Lily Writes

As a child, you assume everyone is like you.

Then you grow up and realize—no, they’re not. You start keeping secrets. You hide the parts that make you different.

Later, you realize everyone else is hiding too. They’ve got their own secrets. And eventually, you figure out the truth: people are so wrapped up in their own stories, they’re not even looking for yours. Sometimes, they don’t even hear when you tell them.

That’s the lens I use when I build my characters.

Sure, my books are entertainment. Cotton candy. Escapist. Not meant to change the world. But the characters? They’re the foundation. Deep, layered, messy, contradictory. What you see on the page is just the tip of the iceberg. What drives them is far more intense—and always true to who they are.

It’s why I write series. Because I believe there are no NPCs in my world. Not even the coffee clerk or the parking attendant. Everyone has a story.

Rodney, the cold strip club owner in Chasing Jane? He’s getting his story.
Calvin, Alexei’s personal chef? He’s getting his story.
Dasianay, Bella Beaumont’s stylist? You’d better believe she’s getting her story.

They’re all already alive in my head, waiting patiently for their turn on the page.

So, no—I don’t get writer’s block.

Here’s how I keep the words flowing:

Routine. Habit. And feeding the beast: Curiosity.

I’m up by 4:30 a.m. Coffee in hand. Wordle. A quick scan of the news (usually a disappointment). Then I open the laptop, reread where I left off yesterday, and slip back into the flow.

It goes like this:
What if this happens next? I run the scene in my head like a movie. Start. Stop. Flip the card. What if it goes another way? Run it again. Over and over until something clicks—until one variation feels electric. Usually within half an hour, I’ve cracked the next piece of the story.

By 8 or 9 a.m., I need a break. I check the news again, message my sisters or kids, maybe hit the gym or take a walk with earbuds in. That’s when I play what I call the Flip-Card Game.

Back at the keyboard, the words come fast. The first draft is almost always dialogue-heavy. Raw, rough, messy—but alive. (I type fast: 95–105 wpm, thanks to high school typing class on an old Selectric. Best elective I ever took. They call it “keyboarding” now. I call it survival. I use it every day, just like math and reading.)

Mornings are for creating—fresh words, new scenes. Afternoons are for sculpting. Proofing, charting, chasing continuity, fleshing out the rough bits.

If it’s sunny, I’ll take a notebook onto the deck. Draft character sketches, plot outlines, or just let myself paint watercolors while the Flip-Card Game runs silently in the back of my mind. Music always helps—it’s the best soundtrack to shake loose a block.

Evenings? I rarely write. I read. My Kindle app lives on my phone, so I always have someone else’s world in my pocket. I’d rather dive into another writer’s imagination than turn on the TV. (Well—except for Formula 1. Hooray Cadillac, and congrats on signing Checo and Bottas! Bring on 2026. Oh, and Great British Baking Show or Taskmaster now and then. That’s about it.)

Because the truth is—I don’t need more screen time. I’ve got enough characters waiting in line already.

And every single one of them has secrets.

Something not everyone knows about me. I’m not just a writer.

One of my original acrylic Sunflower Series paintings (2022). The sunflower is not only a symbol of light and resilience, but also the national flower of Ukraine. My father was born in Alberta to homesteader parents, a fragile infant who couldn’t nurse or tolerate cow’s milk. He survived thanks to a Ukrainian midwife who taught my grandmother to make a steamed wheat broth for his bottle. Without her, he wouldn’t have lived. All of my life I have admired the strength and generosity of the Ukrainian people. Stay Strong. 🌻