Last September (as in, almost a year ago now), my fourth book Every Step She Takes released. I was seven months pregnant at the time and struggling with some health complications. But I had decided to run a pre-order campaign, since preorders are so important for authors, and since I genuinely love sending little goodies to readers. So, despite my health at the time, I created the address stickers from the preorder Google Form, I stuffed the envelopes, and I mailed them off before my daughter arrived the first week of November.

Except, it turns out, I did not do that at all.

Yesterday1, I got a message from a reader asking whatever happened to the preorder goodies. I felt terrible, assuming that I somehow missed this one person (or, perhaps as an international reader, her goodies simply got lost in the ether, as sometimes happens with sending things internationally). I woke up this morning2 prepared to rectify the problem, only to discover that I didn’t forget to mail one reader’s preorder goodies: I forgot to mail all of them.

For the past ten months, the preorder envelopes have been living in a cupboard in my office. (This cupboard, specifically. The cupboard my wife told me not to block, and I was like, nah! It’s fine! I don’t need access to anything that’s in there!)

Needless to say, I feel like an asshole. I am so sorry to everyone who preordered Every Step She Takes and completed the Google form and then NEVER RECEIVED ANYTHING! I’m truly embarrassed by the depths (or, more accurately, shallowness) of my postpartum brain fog, because I truly thought this was a task I’d checked off my to-do list months ago. I hope y’all can have more grace with me than I am having with myself at the moment, but please know I am truly so so sorry.

Obviously, I will be putting these in the mail IMMEDIATELY!3 I want to add something a little extra to sweeten the deal, but I’m also afraid if I do that, it will only further delay mailing them out to you. So, honestly, we will see how much my guilt and shame motivate me today! 4

I also hope you all know how much I appreciate your support. Preorders are so important for authors, and it’s always the same loyal, kind, generous readers who preorder my books (and show up for events and gas me up on social media when I’m feeling like a fraud), and I’m so grateful for all of you! I really think I have the best readers in the romance world.

i can’t hear my characters (and other writing woes)

On the subject of feeling like a fraud, writing has been hard lately. I haven’t talked much about my fifth book, mostly because I’m rarely on social media, and I never send out newsletters, so how would I talk to you about it? It’s tentatively called Forever Hold Your Peace. It’s currently a sort of queer My Best Friend’s Wedding but also not? It’s about two goblins who team up to sabotage a wedding to save the groom from his horrible fiancée, without any ulterior motives whatsoever.

Or… that’s what it will be about, once it exists as a book.

A few months ago, I turned in an absolute dumpster-fire of a first draft to my editor. This isn’t, like, false modesty or something. It truly was 88k words of unadulterated garbage. It was missing huge chunks of the story. It had no act three/no ending at all. It had a weird 10k tangent told from the POV of a non-POV character. Pure chaos from beginning to end.

Thankfully, I have the best editor in the world, and she was able to do a lot with what I turned in, and we developed a revision plan that will be challenging (it’s basically a total rewrite), but it will also be for the best. I’m excited about the revision, and it made me excited about this book! I think it will help me unlock the book that I’ve been trying to write for the better part of a year.

Yet, despite that enthusiasm, my writing for the last month has been dismal. Mostly because I haven’t done any of it. I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard. Whenever I have childcare, or a free minute, I sit down at my computer, and I attempt to wrangle the words on the page. And I end up feeling like my brain is full of bees. I can’t concentrate. Nothing sounds right. I can’t connect the thoughts in my head to the words on the page. Sometimes, I can’t seem to form thoughts at all. I start crying because I miss my kids, even though I saw them 10 minutes ago, and they’re just downstairs playing with my wife. I’m as much of a mess as this draft is.

There are many reasons for this soup-brained, hormone-fueled writer’s block. I have ADHD, for one. I’m eight months postpartum, for another, and nursing seems to really impact my emotional regulation. I’m also dealing with some postpartum depression and anxiety.

Plus, I have virtually no childcare this summer, except when my wonderful parents come over to help me out. I’m home with my two-and-a-half-year-old son and my eight-month-old daughter, and I’m trying to take care of them plus write full-time, so yeah, it makes sense that it’s not going well.

But there’s also something else in the mix, something I’ve been trying to name for a while now, and I think I’ve finally figured out how to explain it: my characters don’t talk to me anymore.

For most of my life, I’ve been able to hear characters and stories in my head. That sounds slightly unhinged, perhaps, but I think most writers would say something similar about their author origin story. I’ve always been a daydreamer, and perpetual boredom (courtesy of my novelty-seeking brain) means I’ve spent my entire life escaping to stories inside my own head for entertainment. As a kid, I could sit on the swing set for hours, imagining epic stories. In all my classes in school, I would write stories in the margins of my notebooks or homework assignments. In the car, in the shower, walking home from school… my brain was always somewhere else, waiting for the moment I could sit down at my computer, or get my hands on a pen, and write down my imaginings.

This didn’t stop when I became an adult. When I was teaching, sometimes a character would randomly start talking to me. Maybe during my commute. Or during my prep period. Maybe on the weekends or during summer break. Sometimes, right there in the middle of class, and I would need to steal away to jot words down on a post it or the notes app on my phone.

Sometimes, that character would only talk to me for a few minutes; sometimes, they wouldn’t shut the hell up. I would spend weeks, months, multiple years hearing their voices and imagining their stories. But I was busy all the time, and I rarely had the capacity to turn those voices into a full novel. Until The Charm Offensive.

As soon as I had the idea for the book, Charlie and Dev started talking to me, and I could hear them so clearly. It was the case of the right book at the right time, because it was the last week of school before summer break, and I did have the time to turn their voices into a full novel. While I was drafting TCO, Charlie and Dev were all I thought about. I could hear their voices in the shower, in the car, while I slept. (Literally. I would have dreams about writing a scene and then be able to wake up in the morning, remember what I wrote in the dream, and then write it down. It was freaky and cool and kind of magical.)

That book was so easy to write because I was always writing it, even when I wasn’t. Any time my brain had the space to wander, it wandered to Charlie and Dev. I was able to shut-out all other real-life responsibilities (including, like, feeding myself) to solely focus on the joys of writing. Was it the healthiest? Absolutely not. But it was a singular creative experience that I will always cherish. And right now, when the writing is so damn hard, I would give anything to have that experience again.

You see, the problem is: my brain never has time to wander anymore.

When I’m in the shower, I’m thinking about sleep training and potty training and whether my son is currently drinking water from the dog bowl. When I’m driving, I’m thinking about meal prep and our grocery cart in the Fred Meyer app and whether I’ll have time for a Costco run this week because we’re getting low on peanut butter. When was the last time I nursed Felicity, and is she eating the right portions of solids, and when is her next nap? As I lie in bed at night, I’m stressing about our finances and my son’s speech therapy and whether I’ll have the chance to interact with another adult tomorrow.

(And all of this ON TOP OF the constant barrage of fears and intrusive thoughts that come with living in a fascist state that’s literally on fire.)

Instead of hearing dialogue in my head, I hear my never-ending to do list on a loop. Do I need to forward the laundry? Is the dishwasher dirty or clean? Have I vacuumed yet? Because if I haven’t vacuumed, well, then my daughter is probably eating dirt directly off the floor. She has a true talent for picking up rug lint and every tiny pine needle the dogs drag inside. I want to be impressed by her preternatural pincer grasp, but the other day she choked on a leaf by the back door, so.

I spend most of my time thinking about how I should be writing, and then when I get the chance to write, I can’t focus on it because there’s so much noise inside my head. And it’s not the right noise. It’s not character noise.

It used to be that my characters were always in the back of my mind (and often even in the forefront of my mind during times when they shouldn’t be). So, when I sat down to write, the words came instantly. Because my brain had been turning those words over for hours or days, just waiting for the chance to write them down.

But my characters aren’t talking to me anymore. Or, maybe they are, but I can’t hear them over all the other noise. And I really miss them.

In some ways, I think their increasing silence speaks to a natural shift in my stage of life. I’m not desperate for mental escapism like I once was. I’m not as bored as I used to be. I love my life, and at times, I am more present in it, which means my brain can’t take detours to imaginary worlds. Some of these are good things. When I’m with my kids, I want to be with my kids, physically and mentally.

But the constant chatter of the mental load of motherhood isn’t beneficial to me or my kids or anyone, really. It’s just noise.

I don’t have a solution to this problem. How do I quiet the bad noise and let in those voices that used to fill me with such creative joy? (This isn’t a rhetorical question. I’m open to any and all suggestions at this point.)

I guess I also don’t have an end to this newsletter, except to say… sorry? And thank you?

Thanks for being the best readers ever. Thanks for sticking with me during this weird lull. Thank you in advance for one day buying Forever Hold Your Peace and hopefully not holding any of this against me.

With genuine love,

Alison

PS— No, really, I will send out those preorders today!

But even on a personal, microcosmic level, 2025 was kind of the worst. I spent basically all of 2025 pregnant and miserable. I started the year with IVF. In late February, right before my 38th birthday, we did the embryo transfer that resulted in my pregnancy. Our daughter in our miracle (of science) baby, and I’m completely obsessed with her. My wife was born with a disability that makes it impossible for her to safely carry a pregnancy, so the fact that I was able to carry for her through reciprocal IVF is one of the most beautifully special things that I’ve ever done. But even though I am beyond grateful for my body and for my ability to carry our babies, I really fucking hate being pregnant.

For 40 weeks, I am utterly exhausted, and my brain turns into thick soup, barely capable of executing the most basic functions. Add to that parenting a toddler, and you have a recipe for overstimulation, depression, and basically no writing. I spent first trimester violently sick, and once my morning sickness finally passed, I spent the rest of my pregnancy in horrible body pain. (My hips! My lower back! My pelvis! Do I suffer extra because I’m old by gestational standards or is everyone secretly that miserable while pregnant?! And why don’t pregnant people complain more? I complain the entire time.)

This pregnancy brought new, unique challenges as well. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. They discovered a pelvic tumor in our baby girl on the 30-week growth scan that required extensive monitoring and prompted so much additional stress. (She’s okay! It turns out babies can get ovarian cysts caused by their mother’s hormones! So fun!)

Our daughter Felicity was finally born healthy and whole in early November after a horrendous labor experience that made me very happy that we are done having children. But then I held our baby girl in my arms, and my deranged postpartum brain was like, “well, maybe one more?!” Babies are so damn cute. That’s how they get you.

But by the rational light of Prozac, I am excited to have my body belong to only me again (once I’m done breastfeeding of course). I’m also excited for the day that I’ll have more time to dedicate to my writing. Technically, I write full-time. But also, technically, I am a stay-at-home mom. That’s two full-time jobs, and in case you’re wondering, the math don’t math there. I’m so lucky that I have a flexible job that allows me to be home with my babies AND I wish I had more time to devote to my work. It’s like the Mommy Wars are happening entirely inside my brain, Work Alison versus Mom Alison, and this past year in particular, I felt like my career took a backseat to family.

I don’t regret that. It was a conscious choice. But when I reflect back on the year, I feel a strange sense of grief for all the writing I didn’t do. Like I’m mourning the hypothetical things I could have accomplished if my circumstances were different.

I don’t do traditional New Year’s resolutions, but I do like to make time to intentionally reflect on the past year and intentionally think about what I want from the upcoming year. So, without further ado…

finding some things to celebrate:

• I published a book in 2025, and I am proud of it for existing. EVERY STEP SHE TAKES was a labor of labor… I wrote it and edited it while pregnant with both of my kids, and while in-between pregnancies while learning how to write and parent at the same time. While it was extremely difficult for me to find the time to write it, every time I did sit down to work, I had so much fun. It’s the book that helped me rediscover the joys of writing, and for that reason, I will always love it. If you want to celebrate its existence with me, you can buy the physical book here and the audiobook here. (Sorry y’all but I’ve got to make a living somehow… support my baby-making habit and all that.)

• In 2025, HERE WE GO AGAIN became a Stonewall Honor Book and won the Lambda Literary award for lesbian romance, and that’s pretty neat. It also hit the USA Today Bestsellers list during Pride month. (Here and here.)

• I participated in the Queers and Quills here in Portland, and it was one of my absolute favorite book events ever. I got to meet so many amazing readers and hang out with so many of my favorite queer romance authors, and the vibes were so welcoming and wonderful. I cannot wait to do it all again in 2027!

• I was also invited to attend the LA Times Festival of Books again this year, which is just on its own level. 10/10 an awesome time.

• I sold my 5th book to my editor at Atria Books. It hasn’t been announced yet, and I can’t say too much about it (mostly because I haven’t finished writing it), but I pitched it as queer My Best Friend’s Wedding. Which, incidentally, is my least favorite 90s romantic comedy. So this should be interesting! (Its working title is FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE, and I am really hoping they let me keep this title.)

• Felicity is really, really cute. And her big brother, August, kisses her before bed every night, and it really does make it all worth it. (My sister also had a baby this year, and my niece is so adorable, she’s like the opposite of birth control.)

• Heated Rivalry. That’s it. That’s the whole bullet. I am constantly celebrating the existence of Heated Rivalry.

finding things to get excited about:

I am rooting for 2026 to be better, but that will only happen if we make it happen. So, part of looking ahead to 2026 is thinking about how I want to show up for my community and myself. I know I can focus more on finding joy and gratitude where I can, so I can stay grounded in all of this.

Looking ahead, I’m excited to not be pregnant this year. I’m excited to not publish a book this year. My fifth book will most likely come out in 2027, which means this year, I get to prioritize writing and reading and promoting other people’s work instead of my own. I’m excited to eventually start running again, once my body has healed fully. I’m excited for spring, always.

In 2026, I would love to write something just for fun. Just for me.

I would love to read more just for fun, too.

I would love to write newsletters because I want to, not because I feel some guilt about how I should. (I wanted to write this one. Mostly.) Same for Instagram.

I would love to find a way to teach again. A few years ago, I taught a workshop on writing queer romance, and it was dope. I would love to find a way to do something like that again, to combine my love of romance with my love of teaching in a new way.

I would love to find that balance I was talking about.

2026 will be another year of prioritizing family over my career, and that’s okay. But I also hope to carve out more time to do this thing I love, this thing I am so damn lucky to do.

i’m rooting for you, too.

I hope 2026 is better for you. I hope you find whatever balance you’re looking for. I hope you find the courage and strength to work toward your dreams even as the world crumbles all around us. I hope the year is filled with queer joy and more Heated Rivalry content.

With love and hope,

Alison

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If you also have ADHD, perhaps you can relate to this confession: I have been trying to write this newsletter for over a year now.

Well, not this exact newsletter, but a newsletter. And when I say try, I don’t mean that I have sat down and actually attempted to compose anything. By try, I mean that I’ve been thinking about how I should write a newsletter and mentally berating myself for not writing a newsletter for over a year now. Though not consistently. No, most of the time, I forget that newsletters exist and that they’re a thing I should be doing as an author. And then another author’s newsletter appears in my inbox, and I’m greeted by a fresh wave of shame about my failure to produce one.

It’s one of those items on my to-do list that I remember while I’m in the shower and then promptly forget as soon as I’m out of the shower and actually able to do something about it. It’s the kind of uncompleted task—like so many emails I forgot to respond to and so many blurb request due dates I never wrote down—that will haunt me just as I’m about to fall asleep at night. As I close my eyes, I tell myself I will put it in my planner in the morning. And sometimes, I do write it in my planner. And then I write it again, transferring it to the next week’s to-do list, the next month’s, the next New Year’s Resolution, for the rest of time, probably. Unless I actually send this one.

Part of the problem is that I’m convinced that I’m bad at writing newsletters.1 This insecurity is further fueled by the fact that other romance authors are amazing at writing newsletters. I’m nowhere near as clever as Alicia Thompson or KT Hoffman. I’m not cool like Amy Spalding with her incredible weekly fashion blog. I’m not vulnerable like Anita Kelly or Tarah Dewitt, and I don’t have interesting observations about pop culture like Nikki Payne or Regina Black. I don’t have insightful writing advice—or any advice, really.

That, perhaps, is the crux of it. I don’t have anything interesting to say at all. My life revolves around dirty diapers and trying to fold laundry during episodes of Bluey I’ve already seen twenty times. I really don’t have a lot going on at the moment, and it’s hard to motivate myself to write a newsletter if it’s going to be entirely shameless self-promotion.

so why this newsletter? why now?

I’m currently on maternity leave, though that concept is somewhat arbitrary when you’re self-employed. But for some reason, nothing makes me want to work more than being on maternity leave. There’s something about not being able to work that appeals to my ADHD brain (unfortunately, this will not translate to motivation once I am able to work again).

It’s quite challenging to write while breastfeeding, so I’ve settled for satisfying my desire to work by actually reading books for blurbs. A novel concept for me these past two years. But the cool thing is, I’ve read some TRULY AMAZING BOOKS. Books that have gotten me out of a very long reading slump and made me excited about romance and reading again. So instead of shameless self-promotion, here is some shameless other-people-promotion.

what I’ve been reading

A Lady for All Seasons by TJ Alexander

I was absolutely delighted when I received an early copy of this one, because A Gentleman’s Gentleman (the first book in the series) was easily my favorite book of 2025. The sequel did not disappoint! It focuses on the delightful gossip-queen Verbena Montrose, who was introduced in AGG, and a “lady poet” named Flora, who is also male novelist William Forsyth, who is actually gender-queer and generally bad-ass. In a recent Instagram post, TJ described the book as Sapphic-ish, since sometimes the love interest is a woman, though sometimes he’s a man, and mostly they are neither and defy categorization entirely. I freaking love this. This book solidified my obsession with queer historical romance, and if there isn’t a third book, I will riot.

See You at the Summit by Jordyn Taylor

I knew I would love this book when I saw that it’s about a woman who finally comes out as bi, only to fall for a cishet man. It’s a classic workplace enemies-to-lovers romance with a queer (and Canadian) twist, and the bi rep is glorious.

Toe to Toe by Falon Ballard

In my blurb, I think I described this book as Center Stage meets Magic Mike with a dash of Dirty Dancing. And honestly, if that description doesn’t entice you, I don’t know what to tell you. Falon’s books are always so sweet and heartfelt, and this one was no different. I devoured it.

Good Luck, Babe by Erin Baldwin

This is the only YA book on the list, and it’s my favorite YA book that I’ve read in a long time. (I barely read these days, so take that for what it’s worth.) This one was a real slump-buster for me. From the first page, I was hooked by the main character Noelle’s voice. It’s a sapphic friends-to-enemies-to-lovers Amazing Race-esque fake dating book that is so flawlessly written, I was jealous.

Thirty Love by Tom Vellner

Like everyone I’ve ever met, I’ve been watching Heated Rivalry, and this book scratched the m/m sports romance itch I didn’t know I had. Do I know anything about tennis? Nope. But I know even less about hockey, so!

For the Bride by Becca Grischow

Okay, so I haven’t finished this one yet, but I know it’s going to be a favorite of mine already, and I find myself picking it up every chance I get to read just a few more pages. It’s a sapphic bridesmaids hate-to-love romance (so far… I think…), but it’s also about grief and sobriety? But it works?! I fell in love with Becca’s writing in her debut novel I’ll Get Back to You, but dare I say I am even more enamored with this book already??? Plus, I happen to be writing a wedding-based romance right now (or I will be again, post-maternity leave), so I’m especially enjoying Becca’s take on wedding zaniness.

Reality Check by Lizzie Huxley Jones

Sapphic reality dating show romance? Uh, duh. Sign me up. I’ve only just started this one as well, but it centers on an autistic woman who goes on a Love is Blind type reality dating show to meet her husband and is going to fall for a hot blonde lady instead, so it basically checks all of my boxes.

and one book I regretfully haven’t read yet

Star Shipped by Cat Sebastian

When I heard THE Cat Sebastian was writing a contemporary romance, I legit screamed. Then, when I got asked to blurb it and was sent an early copy, I thought I’d died and gone to romance heaven. And then I promptly… did not read it. And still have not read it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The deadline to blurb it happened to be the week after my daughter was born, so I know that was part of the problem, but the fact that it remains unread on my bookshelf is a tragedy.

Of course, the list of books I haven’t read despite desperately wanting to read them is MUCH LONGER than the list of books I have read, but I’ll save that list for another newsletter (that I will write at some point in 2027, I’m sure).

All of the aforementioned books are future releases, so I highly recommend preordering them/adding them to your TBR.

a little shameless self-promotion

I would be remiss if I ended this newsletter without talking about my own books at all, so here is something! The Kiss Her Once for Me e-book will be on sale Christmas Day for only $1.99, so if you haven’t read it yet, here is your chance!

I also feel like I should mention that I am working on a fifth book! I can’t say too much about it yet (I don’t think?) but I pitched it to my editor as a queer My Best Friend’s Wedding, with slightly less awful characters (but only slightly). It won’t come out until 2027, but I can’t wait to tell you more about it. Once I, you know, actually write the damn thing…

I guess that’s it?

Not sure how to end this newsletter except to say thanks. For reading it. For being endlessly patient with me. For accepting that I might send another newsletter next week or I might not send one for another fourteen months. There’s really no telling which way it will go.

With love and gratitude,

Alison