Tag: #books

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We were on a break

Jen Sinclair

When I sent my last newsletter in May, I was working on a manuscript I had committed to finishing and publishing this Fall. But, not long after sending that newsletter, I realized I needed to step back. I was burnt out and so overwhelmed with work that I was paralyzed and couldn’t get a single thing done. A friend suggested I unplug from writing for a few weeks. And while I was reluctant at first, it turned out to be exactly what I needed.

After my break, I started writing…another book. I immediately thought of that infamous line from Friends, when Ross tried to explain to Rachel that he only cheated because “we were on a break.” It turns out that while I was on a break from one manuscript, I had a fling with another one. Awkward, I know.

In all seriousness, setting aside a draft until I can make it work is part of my process. One day, I’ll be able to give that original manuscript the love and attention it needs and deserves. But for now, I’ll keep working on my never-ending to-do list and several other projects, including my third book, launching in May 2026. Stay tuned for the official announcement coming soon. 🙂

Thank you doesn’t seem big enough for how much I appreciate every person who has read my books, written a review, and dropped me a note. I appreciate you coming along while I finally live my dream. Oh, and you might want to hold on because the ride is just beginning.

I’ve joined Substack!

I’ve moved my newsletter to Substack. If you’re there, I’d love to connect with you.

Blog, Uncategorized

One writing rule I thought was stupid…

Jen Sinclair

There are a lot of rules when it comes to writing. Things like, show don’t tell; don’t write a prologue; and get rid of adverbs are just a few of the fun ones we’re bound to beat our heads against a wall about at some point or another.

But the one that gave me the biggest headache had to be this one:

Write what you know.

The first time I heard this nugget in Dr. Raymond’s creative writing class at Stetson a billion years ago, it struck me as ridiculous. It’s called fiction. By its very definition, it is not what I know.

Did Anne Rice know what it was like to be a vampire? Possibly, but unlikely. Was Lee Child a badass ex-MP who went around fighting the powerful? Nope.

It took decades and a lot of grumbling to figure out the real meaning for me was to write the feelings I know. The reasons why characters behave the way they do.

And while I haven’t been an artist, a billionaire playboy, an astronomy professor, or the president—I have been wounded. I’ve lost. I’ve won. I’ve been gutted over grief. I’ve had dreams slip away. I’ve had my heart broken. And I’ve moved on despite it all.

This is what creates a story people stay up late reading because they connect with and feel right along with the characters. It gives them a stake in what happens.

So I guess I’ll keep writing what I know—the heart of the story—because that’s where the real magic happens.

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Concerts and conflicts…

Jen Sinclair

I love live music.

For me, there is no better feeling than singing and dancing as a collective. Energy surges. Joy is contagious.

General admission was the only way to go in my youth. I’ve had the pleasure of watching some killer bands, like Audioslave, The Rolling Stones, Metallica, Oasis, and Alter Bridge from the floor beneath the stage. I loved it because I could do what my brother, Tim drilled into me from a young age: stand and dance at concerts.

As time passed, things changed and I bypassed the floor for any number of reasons: the people I went with, the price of tickets, my weak bladder. But age hasn’t stopped me from buying a seat and dancing the night away with the collective.

I realize there are people who disagree with this, largely because they wind up sitting behind me. This usually leads to shoulder pokes or passive-aggressive shouts all aimed at telling me and the women around me to “sit down” and “have some courtesy.” (Interestingly, my six-foot-three-inch husband has never been told to sit.)

Friends, these are not orchestra concerts. These are country or rock shows where over 80 percent of the venue is on their feet from the first song through the encore.

Historically speaking, I am accommodating to a fault. I was raised by my mother to go out of the way to make others feel better even if it comes at my expense (like apologizing after someone bumps into me).

But the older I get, the less I want to bend over backward for anyone trying to guilt/shame/order me into doing something they believe they’re entitled to more than I am.

I no longer care to please the few—whether that’s at a concert, a school board meeting about book bans, or the front lines of a women’s clinic. Instead, I’ll continue to stand and advocate for those around me who need my voice because they aren’t where I am yet.

Yesterday, I bought general admission tickets to see my favorite band, Old Dominion in June. For the first time in decades, I’ll be in the section where everyone stands. Alongside my daughter, we’ll all dance and sing and laugh and cry and feel the music together without shame or guilt.

Just as it should be.