Still Scared, Still Writing
November Calls Me Back
The cold has been unbearable this week.
I've been shivering out of my skin, wrapped in layers, trying to stay warm. It’s challenging to do anything when my joints are cold and my fingers become like rigid icicles.
Makes it hard to type—and that’s exactly what I’m drawn to do at exactly this time of year—the moments building up to Halloween and welcoming November.
There is a calling that comes every year since I was 19 or 20—like a vibration in my bones. It is the ritual of starting a new book after October ends and Samhain comes to pass.
It's Pavlovian at this point.
November used to be National Novel Writing Month. While NaNoWriMo recently folded, and I hadn’t participated with that organization in a few years due to some controversies, I've written so many books during November because of the organization and event that the month itself has become a signal.
November means more dedicated writing time.
The truth is, I would like to dedicate my life to writing, but I am still scared.
This time last year—end of October, beginning of November 2024—I wrote the first draft of The Wind Sings Sorrow, book one in my Ter'Ahn's Chosen series.
Now I'm feeling that cyclical return—the draw back to that part of my creativity.
I'm thinking about where I'm going in the plot of book two, recognizing all the things I need to figure out: the science fiction technology that has to stay consistent, the canon that's now been established, and the universe that's growing more complex with each chapter.
But that’s where it starts to get complicated.
You see—my secret is I am terrified of sharing my work with the world.
Just last night, I pulled a card asking about my current relationship with my writing. The Raven appeared—the card of secrets and hidden knowledge kept from the light.
The irony wasn't lost on me. I sat there staring at it, frustrated but unable to deny the accuracy.
The card spoke directly to what I've been doing—treating my stories like secrets, keeping them close, protecting them (and myself) from exposure. "Hidden secrets, the gathering of knowledge, and the spreading of rumors," it read. "The raven card urges you to discover the truth behind hidden secrets."
The card asks: why am I hiding this part of my life from others? And maybe more importantly—from myself?
And the shadow reading for the card was much like an energetic gut punch: "You cannot control how other people think about you, but you can control your reactions. Assess your own truth and stay strong."
That's it, isn't it? I'm terrified of how people will receive my stories. Terrified they'll misunderstand them, dismiss them, or worse—that the stories will reveal too much of who I actually am. But the Raven urges me to stop hiding and step into the truth of what I'm here to do.
More Than a Trilogy
When I’ve heard people share with others about The Wind Sings Sorrow, they usually refer to book one as “part of a trilogy.”
For the record, I don’t know how this started as I’ve never actually said how many books it will be officially. However, I'm pretty sure Ter'Ahn's Chosen is going to be at least five or six books. There's so much story to tell, and each book only covers a short span on time, so… buckle up.
But these novels are so much more than a trilogy, literally. They’re a representation of how I see my legacy, my contribution to Earth.
They’re like… kind of a big deal to me.
That’s where the fear comes in.
My stories are how I share my form of truth. My spirit. My expression. The things I cannot otherwise manage to express.
As I amp up to start writing again, I find myself nervous-excited about going deeper into these characters that people already feel like they’ve gotten to know. But unlike my real life, which no one but me really gets a say over, I feel a sense of not wanting to disappoint my fiction readers.
They’ve already started to fall in love with my characters.
That’s why I’m pumped to really get into Jian's backstory and invite readers to understand his motivations. To explore Zos’s protectiveness. To see Atalanta rocket through emotion after emotion as she battles the two wolves inside her. To reveal little bits and hints about Ashton. To continue watching Sprogit’s development into full bloom. To see how much Barifka plays a role in the grander story.
I don't know the answers to where I’m going yet, and that's what revs me up and stokes my creative fire. Just like with the first book, when I sat down to write, I had outlines and scenes in mind—and then my characters told me a whole different story.
It is as it has always been when I write what I’m meant to write. It flows. It prophesizes. It connects with people in a way I, as a human, cannot.
Snapshots vs. Legacy
When I blog, there's a sense of impermanence.
What I write here is a snapshot in time—one moment in my life.
I'm constantly growing and changing and becoming something different.
A blog I write today might not reflect how I feel two days from now, three weeks from now, or five years from now. It's literally just a moment, which makes it feel, in some ways, less vulnerable to share.
Trust me, it wasn’t always like this. I had to do a LOT of work around visibility and what it means to show up authentically.
But fiction? The stories I tell are my soul's legacy.
I don't know if this will make sense to anyone else, but Safrianna, the human, will likely be unremembered. My poetry and even my blogs can touch people immensely, and yet they're still snapshots—personal, yes, but not the legacy I’ll leave behind.
People will not remember me when I'm gone for my blog. Hell—they might not remember me at all.
But if they've read one of my stories? If one of my characters changes their life? That is the legacy.
I've already begun to witness this—people seeing themselves in my characters, using them to awaken some part of themselves, to acknowledge something they'd been hiding, or to dive into their feelings more deeply.
People might not remember my name. Hell, I'm publishing my speculative fiction under a pen name, AJ Eastwood, not even Safrianna, so they might never even know who *I* really am.
But people have the capacity to remember my stories forever.
That's why the stories feel so much more vulnerable and scary to put out there.
They feel far more permanent.
The plots matter. The technology has to make sense. The canon has to stay consistent.
When I'm looking at the world-building right now—trying to figure out how the space technology actually works, what the different spacefaring species technologies are like, what the limitations of our antagonists are, what the potentials of our protagonists are, what will happen when they face ever-increasing levels of danger—all of this becomes part of the permanent record.
No pressure.
The Dream I've Always Known
I've known I wanted to be an author since I was a little kid. I've had this calling in my blood to be a writer since I was pretty much old enough to hold a pencil. I've always valued storytelling and storytellers.
And yet, for nearly 40 years, I've been carrying other people's doubts alongside my own certainty.
Ultimately though, I know I’ll disappoint someone in my writing (actually, pretty sure I already disappointed several people with some choices in the first book, but in the end they loved it anyway). So hey, I’m talking myself out of my own spiral as I write.
It’s okay to disappoint people. I guess I’m just a little worried I’ll disappoint myself.
I want to do my best. I want to share authentically. I want to stand in my power.
Alright, then. I will. Because that’s what I’m here to do. Simple as that, right?
In Part 2 of this mini-series, I'll share more about why putting my stories out into the world feels so tender and vulnerable—and why that very tenderness is exactly why I have to keep going.
In the meantime, I just want to be so honest. I’m scared. It’s scary to even write this blog. To admit how scared I am to stand in my power in front of the world as an author.
But people like you, reading my words, keeps me going. So… Thank you. Thank you for seeing my dream and believing in me, too.
I’m still scared. But I’m still writing.
Still Dreaming Bigger,
Safrianna Lughna
aka AJ Eastwood
Want to learn more about the Ter'Ahn's Chosen series?
Check out The Wind Sings Sorrow and dive into a universe of fierce protection, impossible choices, and characters who will stay with you long after you turn the last page.
This is Part 1 of a 3-part series exploring what it means to write from the soul—and why sharing that work with the world is both terrifying and necessary.
