Lily Writes

It’s six degrees outside, my coffee is strong, and my husband is starting to suspect I read a lot of gay wolf shifter romance.

The house is still half-asleep. Music hums softly in the background. This is how most writing days begin.

I’m usually awake around 4:30 a.m., scrolling messages in bed while my phone is still rigged for red light—carefully calibrated so I don’t wake my partner… or the cat. I answer texts and memes from family scattered across time zones, people who clearly go to bed much later than I do.

Once that’s done, I switch to my Kindle and read a few chapters of whatever book I’m currently devouring.

I read constantly. All the time. Rarely from paperbacks or hardcovers—though I hoard those too. I love my Kindle app. I can read anywhere, anytime, and no one knows what I’m reading.

Well. Almost no one.

My husband is starting to catch on.

We share an Amazon Prime account now, which means he gets the “books you might like” emails.

“Wolf shifters?” he asked one morning, holding up his phone, visibly confused.

“Oh yeah. Let me see that.”

“Gay wolf shifters?” he clarified, still gripping the phone.

“Yes! GIVE ME THAT.”

So… he’s on to me.

By 5:30, I’m out of bed—feeding the cat, making coffee, settling at the dining table. I pull out my bullet journal and map out Worlds, Connections, Threads. I answer a few more texts—these from my sisters, who are also up at 4:30, just checking in.

Then the headphones go on.

Music blocks out time and space, and whatever book I’m working on becomes my reality. I lose track of what month it is, let alone the day of the week. These early hours are my most productive—five to seven thousand words in a three-hour writing block isn’t unusual.

When I finally come up for air, my husband—who has learned to wait until I make eye contact—checks in about the day’s plans. He handles the grocery shopping (bless him; I find it tedious). We flip a coin for cleaning. Neither of us loves it.

If I hit a fork in the road while writing, I step away. I’ll play some Animal Crossing or pull out my watercolors and let my brain wander. I play out scenes like a movie in my head, testing paths—if this happens, then that happens—until one sparks. When it does, I’m back at the computer, getting it down fast.

First drafts are down and dirty. Just get the words out. Dialogue comes first. Always. The structure starts with voices—usually sassy ones. I like banter.

Sex scenes are always last.

I need to understand the relationship first—who these characters are, when they fall in love, when they emotionally commit. Only then do I let them get busy. Sometimes in a first draft, I’ll leave myself a note: add sex here. When I come back, I’m usually right. That’s the spot. Other times, I change my mind. It doesn’t need anything else. It’s perfect as it is.

On non-writing days, I have to leave the house. See real people.

And when I do, I’m watching.

I listen. I take notes. I carry a small Field Notes notebook in my sling bag—names, places, meals, snippets of conversation. An arguing couple at the next table. A detail you wouldn’t think matters until it suddenly does. Everything is potential story fuel.

Evenings are for reading.

I reread authors I admire, the ones who get inside my head and make me care. If a book surprises me, makes my heart clench, pulls emotion out of me—I know I’ll return to it. I give five stars to books I know I’ll reread.

I love authors who take familiar tropes and still manage to surprise you. Who build worlds that feel both fantastic and real. Who wrap you up and don’t let go.

Right now, I’m making my way through Holly Day’s bibliography.

Her books are amazing.

At the end of the day, all that reading, watching, listening, and early-morning quiet pours back into the stories I tell—love stories built on banter, connection, and the moments that matter most. If you enjoy romance that leans into feeling, found family, and characters who linger with you long after the last page, you’ll probably feel at home in my books. They’re written the same way my days begin—quietly, intentionally, and with a lot of heart.