Lily Writes

Write.

Paint.

Write some more.

A simply lovely rhythm.

Creative. Restorative. Escapist.

The United States’ 250th birthday has come and gone, and I’m surprised by how ambivalent I feel about missing the celebrations. I’ve been looking forward to this anniversary for nearly a decade.

I still remember the Bicentennial. I even have boxes of memorabilia tucked away in the basement that I planned to unpack this year. Instead… they stayed in storage. Because this isn’t quite the America I expected to celebrate.

I still recognize it in the places I love most. At the farmers markets. The art fairs. The trails. The cities and small towns. The conversations with strangers.

That’s still my America.

But watching the national stage unfold leaves me discouraged. Frustrated. Wondering how leadership became so disconnected from the values I grew up believing mattered: integrity, accountability, compassion, and service.

I miss my parents.

They passed away in 2022 and 2023, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about them. Part of me aches to hear what they’d say about everything happening now. Another part is grateful they don’t have to witness it.

Dad would have been furious.

Mom would have been by my side, organizing, writing letters, showing up, and encouraging everyone around her to do the same.  

History is unfolding around us every day.  Future historians—and probably quite a few lawyers—will spend decades trying to untangle this era. I’m not sure I’ll be around to read those books. Some days I wish I could. Other days, I’m not so sure. Maybe living through history once is enough.

So I create.

That’s become my answer. Not because I want to hide from reality. Because I need somewhere to put hope.

The Vanguardian series has been that place for me. A world where ordinary people confront corruption, refuse to surrender, and keep choosing courage over fear. They’re the heroes I need sometimes.

Pink Matchmakers gives me something different. Joy. Small-town gossip. Ridiculous misunderstandings. Found family. Slow burns. People falling in love while everyone else in town watches—and comments.

It’s impossible to doom-scroll while writing a scene where baby goats escape, a fake boyfriend becomes real, or a matchmaking AI quietly rearranges people’s futures.

Speaking of Pink Matchmakers…

I just finished the first draft of Love Crush. It’s Haggar Jones and Blue Collins’ story—an MM romance for the True Hearts branch of the series. It’s an age-gap romance. A best friend’s son romance. A gloriously slow burn. And I adore these characters.

Several scenes take place at Bicker Brothers Restaurant, which has quietly become one of my favorite places to write.

The other night I asked my partner where he wanted to go for dinner.

Without missing a beat, he answered, “Bicker Brothers.”

He reads my books.

For one glorious second I almost reached for my phone to make reservations. Apparently, I’ve crossed the line between world-building and actually living there.

Honestly? I’m okay with that.

In two weeks we’ll be packing again. This time we’re headed west. Seattle to Portland, with plenty of stops in between. We’ll visit family, revisit favorite places, and undoubtedly discover a few new ones.

I love Michigan. The Great Lakes feel like home. I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

But the mountains…

The mountains speak a language I understand. Every time I see them, I feel the same thing I do when a new story begins. A quiet pull. An invitation. A reminder that there are still places to explore. Still stories to tell. Still beauty waiting around the next bend.

So I’ll keep writing.

I’ll keep painting.

And when the real world becomes too loud, I’ll spend a few hours making another one—one filled with hope, kindness, and happily-ever-afters.

Sometimes that’s exactly the kind of world my heart needs.