​This year will be THE year. The year I get my act together.

I’ll make the perfect resolution and keep it flawlessly. I’ll find the habit that will fix all my problems. I’ll reach the achievement or fulfill that dream. Whatever I do, this year will NOT end up like last year.

Sound familiar? Oh, yeah, that sounds like how I opened last month’s article about holiday stress.

And yet, less than a week after Christmas morning and all the joy that brings, I set my high expectations on another celebration—the new year. But this time, instead of stress, I battle disappointment.

How can I feel disappointed when everything is fresh and new?

Maybe we feel disappointed when everyone seems to have a life-changing resolution, but we don’t even know what we want yet.

When the habit that was supposed to fix everything fades after a few short weeks.

When the year that was supposed to bring happiness and joy starts out mundane or less than perfect.

When we watch others reach their goals and dreams and we feel left behind.

Disappointment doesn’t always come with a handy step by step guide to get over it. I don’t know that I can lay out a neat bullet point article like I could with stress last month. But my new year did arrive with a realization, a realization that I hope comforts you, and maybe challenges you, if that’s what you need.

When the new year rolls in, we look back over the previous one. It’s only natural. In all that reflection, sometimes we focus on the things that went wrong and just how desperately we want this year to be easier than last year.

Or we focus on the things that went right. We scheme how we can replicate it, and we worry about what this new year might hold.  

Or maybe we focus on all the things we haven’t done yet, the things that seem so far away and distant no matter how hard we work or how much we want them.

I, for one, can get a little mopey.

So we make resolutions and habits and promises. Because if I can just get on top of myself and my own tendencies, everything will HAVE to go right, won’t it? Previous years have taught us that we can’t control other people, and we can’t control our life circumstances, so we control our bodies, our feelings, our habits.

Or at least we try.

So is it a control issue? Maybe. But I suggest that it might be about something deeper.

It might be about hope.

Hope, that thing that keeps us going. That mystical force that seems so out of reach. Everybody puts their hope in something, whether or not we realize we’re doing it. Everybody has something that keeps them going.

When a new year rolls around, our hopes are elevated and renewed. When we look at all the ways we were unfulfilled last year, it’s easy for us to shift our hope to the wrong things.

We put our hope in the new year instead of the One Who knows exactly what’s going to happen in every second of that new year.

We put our hope in resolutions and habits. In the experiences we hope to have. In our own strength, control, and achievement.

Hope in those things will ultimately be disappointed. Our world does not run the way it should, so even the best experience will fade and the strongest person will fail. Our broken world physically cannot fulfill our expectations.

Perfect, Rachel. Thank you for ruining New Year’s.

But there is one hope that will not disappoint us—even if it may feel like it now.

The One Who came at Christmas so He could grow up, die in our place for our brokenness, and rise again so we could live in that hope.

I’m not saying resolutions and habits are bad. I have quite a few habits that have helped me over the past year. But unfortunately, no matter how much water I drink or sleep I get, it won’t solve all my problems. (Dang, I wish.)

So even as we make our resolutions and plot out our habits this new year, we remember our true Hope. Each of us can find a way to keep that hope close, whether it’s preaching truth to ourselves, reading God’s Word, praying, or talking with friends who share the same hope. Maybe there is a habit that could bring you closer to that hope.

And when disappointments come, as they will, we can use those opportunities to shift our disappointment into relationship with Him, reminding ourselves what is true.

And that doesn’t just go for disappointments. It goes for the joys that await this year, too.

Alright, alright, I know it sounds like I spent this whole article putting down resolutions and habits, but . . . do you have a resolution or habit you’re hoping to improve this year? Or maybe an experience or milestone you’re looking forward to? Let me know in the comments below!

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult fantasy novels. But more importantly, I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want and maybe a metaphor about grief. Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates on the dieselpunk Anastasia retelling I’m working on. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! 

This year will be THE year. The year I get my act together. I’ll finish all my gift shopping on Black Friday so I get the best deals. I’ll neatly pencil all my events on the calendar, and none of them will ever conflict with each other. And after all that, I’ll still have time to enjoy a Christmas movie.
​
*Enter stress*

Because the Black Friday ship has long since sailed and I still don’t know what to get my coworkers. Oh, and those cards still needs signed. And how did I totally space our local tree lighting?

The holiday stress is REAL. No matter how much we love the holidays, how we count the days until they arrive, how much fun they bring—they’re still out of the norm. They’re still a lot. And sometimes it feels like too much. (Maybe it is too much.)  

I’m not an expert. Anyone who’s seen my schedule knows that. But I’ve stumbled upon a few things over the past year that have made this year a more peaceful one. Maybe those things will comfort you too.

But first, pray.

I know, I know. It sounds cheesy and hyper-spiritual.

“Well, that’s all good and fine since you’re literally a saint, but what about me, a regular person?”

“What happens when I HAVE been praying, and my stress hasn’t budged an inch?”

“Did I do it wrong? Or did it just not work?”

Saying a prayer will not make your stress magically disappear. Physically, you may not be at peace. Emotionally, you may not be at peace.

But prayer puts us spiritually at peace. It helps us see this season just a little bit more like God sees it. It helps us slow down, take a breath, interrupt our spiraling thoughts. It reminds us that we’re not facing the music alone. And the parties. And the shopping. And the whatever. Because we’re not alone. Jesus is doing all this holiday stuff with us, and I feel like He knows a thing or two about stress.

You don’t need a fancy prayer. Recall an aspect of His character. Thank Him for a good experience you had. Or even just say, “I’m feeling stressed, I need your help.”

You CANNOT *clap* DO *clap* IT *clap* ALL *clap*

You can’t. Don’t try. You will get stressed and burned out. Please don’t ask how I know this.

You cannot do all the things for all the people. Prayer reminds us who God is, but life still reminds us that we are human. We are finite.

The season will not fall apart if you don’t do all the things, because you’re not the one holding all things together.

Pick the things that matter to you. Start with the non-negotiables—job obligations or traditions that you absolutely will not miss. Then build out. What do you want to do? What will bring you joy? What will help you bring others joy? Don’t fear prioritizing!

Would you rather do all the things and not be able to enjoy them or do some things and be able to enjoy the things that you chose?

It’s okay if you miss an opportunity.

You can’t do it all, and you don’t need to feel awful about missing an opportunity here or there. If you have no interest in any of the Christmas things you used to love, that’s a different matter entirely. But if you don’t watch all the Christmas movies this year, or if you decorate the tree a little differently, or if you miss an event, it’s okay. It probably means it would have been too much after all.

The things will happen this season that are meant to happen. And yes, our involvement does affect what happens, but quite frankly, the things that need to happen will happen whether or not we’re involved. It’s more important that we are present in the opportunities that do work out. And sometimes missing an opportunity here or there opens the door for a new opportunity, a new experience, or even a new tradition.

Guess what? The holidays come every year. This isn’t the last Christmas there will ever be. You will either enjoy all the things next year, or we’ll be in heaven and I’m guessing they have a way better Christmas than we do. Those missed opportunities might just come back to you.

Be intentional with what you do have.

You can’t be in two places at once, but you can choose that fun Christmas musical and add a little laughter to a hectic weekend. Your work schedule may be wild, but you can watch the Christmas lights as you drive home. Your family schedule might be hectic, but you can still gather and watch twenty minutes of a Christmas movie.

When we release the things we can’t and don’t need to control, we make room to be present and intentional in the moments that we do have and can control.

I can’t control everyone else. I can’t control my work or my friends or my family. I can’t control the weather or anyone else’s schedule.

But I can control myself and how I respond to the situations that come.

So pray first. Know you can’t do it all. Release missed opportunities. And be intentional with the opportunities you do have.

It won’t magically cure all the season’s stress. But it’s a little something that might help, just a bit.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have Christmas movies to watch. And maybe some last minute gift shopping to do. 

​How have your holidays been this year? Is there something special you're looking forward to? Do you have any special ways you handle holiday stress? Let me know in the comments below! 

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult fantasy novels that walk the line between the darker elements of fantasy and the weirder elements of cartoons. But more importantly, I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want and maybe a metaphor about grief. Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates about what I’m reading, watching, and writing. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! 

On today’s episode of Disney heroines that hold up surprisingly well . . .

Alright, I don’t actually know if I’ll turn this into a series or not. You’ll have to let me know in the comments below whether you think it would be worth my while.

But for now enjoy my assorted thoughts gathered from watching a Disney classic with my siblings.

Classic Disney movies get a lot of flack. And sometimes it’s deserved. Outdated and hurtful cultural representation can pop up out of nowhere. Heroines are subjected to sexist interpretations. And I still want to shake some sense into Ariel’s head. Classic stories can at times be a land mine.

But sometimes, classic films surprise me. Sometimes they seem to know how to craft characters and stories better than we do today, or at the very least, in a different way than we use now.

We live in a different time, and therefore the tools at our disposal and the effect they have are different. But we can still learn a lot from the classics, both things we shouldn’t do and things we should start again.

And I found some in the 1953 Disney classic Peter Pan, of all places.

Before we get started, we need to address that elephant in the room. Or crocodile. Or however you wish to refer to it.

Remember what I said about outdated and hurtful cultural representation? I don’t feel that I can write about this film without acknowledging that this film uses racist caricatures against Native Americans. Despite all her other wins, Wendy and the other characters in the film reinforce these stereotypes. In no way, shape, or form do I condone the caricatures and stereotypes in this film. They were wrong then and they’re wrong now. This is one of those cases where we can learn from what they did wrong, so we can avoid those mistakes in our own writing and real-life interactions.

Now let’s get started. Because this is an article about a Disney heroine that held up surprisingly well in the decades between then and now.

And I’m talking about none other than Wendy herself.

If I’m truthful, Wendy always irked me just a little bit when I was younger. Peter and the other boys got to have sword fights and outsmart pirates and Wendy got to sit there on the rock and watch. It seemed like she was pushed aside and forced to look on while the boys got to have the real fun.

And yes, a Wendy sword fight would have been epic.

But on my most recent watch through, I realized that Wendy is an especially strong heroine, and in many ways counter cultural to the era that she was created in. She might have a few things to say about our own heroines as well. 

The Real Leader of the Lost Boys

If I asked you who the leader and protector of the Lost Boys was, most of us would answer Peter. And the movie likes to pretend it agrees.

But there’s only one person that can get the boys in line with only a few words.

And it’s not Peter. It’s Wendy.

From the very start, Wendy is the leader and protector of her brothers. She sticks up for them against their easily angered father, even when gets her banished from the nursery.

Her leadership and protection extends to the Lost Boys. She reminds the boys of who they really are and what they really want. With only a few words, she reminds them that they really do want to go home. When pirates capture them all, the boys would have caved immediately had she not been there. Wendy rallies them against the pirates and encourages them to stand strong in their beliefs, even when it looks hopeless.

So from the start to the end, Wendy plays a traditionally masculine role in the story, even though it’s never stated outright.

And yet she does it all without becoming controlling, or quite frankly, ending up like Peter himself. Peter has to rule through control and putting others down, while Wendy’s kindness makes her strong.

Wendy is the only person who can see through Peter’s bravado and call him out on it. She is the only person who disagrees with him and questions him. And when it comes down to it, she’s the one who’s willing to outright defy him and leave.

And this movie was made in the 50s! Fifties-era girls rarely got to be the leaders or protectors of anything. Which makes Wendy even more astounding.

Your Mother and Mine

When Disney remade Peter Pan in 2023, I stumbled upon an ill-fated review of the film. The reviewer criticized the fact that Wendy took a more pivotal role and joined in on the fights alongside the boys. “It takes away the core of her personality, her very femininity!” they bemoaned. “Wendy was and always will be a mother.”

I have to wonder if they watched the same Wendy that I did.

(To be fair, I wasn’t a huge fan of the remake either, but that wasn’t the reason why.)

Peter Pan—both the movie and the character—seems determined to push Wendy into the mother role. The only reason Wendy gets to go to Neverland at all—even though she’s the one who believes in it the most—is because Peter thinks she might take care of them.

But Wendy quietly pushes back against this, too.

During the extremely cringeworthy scene in the natives’ camp, Wendy is told that she cannot join the celebration with the boys. She’s told that her job is to gather firewood and clean up after everyone else. And what’s her response? To quietly fall in line?

Nope. She straight up just goes home.

But even as she quietly insists she’s worth more than cleaning up after the boys, she also recognizes and celebrates the immense value of motherhood.

Even as she recognizes that she has worth beyond cleaning up after the boys, she also recognizes the immense value of motherhood. It shapes a pivotal moment in the film and in the Lost Boys’ lives. (Mary Darling deserves her own mention here too as a rare and fantastic example of a Disney mom.)

Wendy can say that she’s not the Lost Boys’ mother even as she celebrates mothers. She doesn’t have to tear down one to lift the other up. That dynamic is becoming a rare and beautiful art.

Wendy recognizes that she has worth beyond what she can do for the Lost Boys.

Wendy’s Wonder                
              
And yet she remains one of the most idealistic characters in the film.

That’s the best thing about her. She doesn’t have to lose any of her softness to be strong. She doesn’t have to lose her wonder to be a leader, or her kindness to be a protector.

Rather, those things are her strengths. Her softness, wonder, and kindness enable her to challenge the norm, to take on that role of leader, and to recognize her own worth.

In the end, Wendy’s sense of wonder saves them all, her stubborn belief that Peter Pan is real and that he will come to save them. She might not pick up a sword and beat off an approaching pirate (although I fully believe she would have thrown hands with a mermaid), but she rallies all the boys to keep believing.

Her wonder is what earns her a spot on Disney heroines who hold up surprisingly well.

So what do you think? Is this worth a series? Who’s your favorite Disney heroine, or any heroine you’d like to see me cover? Let me know in the comments below! 

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult/new adult fantasy novels that walk the line between the darker elements of fantasy and the weirder elements of cartoons. But more importantly, I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want and maybe a metaphor about grief. Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates about what I’m reading, watching, and writing. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! 

Have you watched Black Widow?

My sister and I rewatched it for the second time recently. I still had to look away during the opening credits sequence. We laughed over the jokes we’d forgotten and gasped over moments that caught us off guard.

What surprised me most was how this is a perfect “girl power” story done right.

In a twist that shocks no one, I very much support girl power stories. Some Christian artists tear down any example of “woke feminism,” the mystic and buzzy words that spell doom for most heroines.

Here’s the thing though. As I grew up, and especially during my teen years, I couldn’t relate to the heroines I saw and read. No matter how demure I was forced to look on the outside, inside I never felt like I fit common feminine stereotypes.

So as I made more viewing and reading choices for myself, I craved those heroines who were different. I sought out strong heroines, women who challenged injustice and abuse, women who did the things everyone said girls couldn’t do.

And I found Natasha and Yelena.

Marvel certainly hasn’t always hit the mark with their heroines. Heck, it took them over a decade to get Black Widow herself right. (I refuse to discuss the travesty that is her representation in Iron Man 2.) But they did finally get there. And we're going to explore how--as well as how it works for your own leading ladies. 

No One Gets Pushed Aside

If you’re like me, you might have come here to create a strong female character that isn’t “aggressive” or “abrasive” to your audience.

And we’ll get there. But I also want to challenge that idea. 

With women-led stories, when commentators call them aggressive and abrasive, it’s often code for something else. Aggressive means it steps a little too close to my own pet prejudices, challenging me in uncomfortable ways. Abrasive means that the heroine is too loud, too strong, too something or another, and she makes us feel threatened.

Stories like Black Widow should make me uncomfortable. It’s hard to not cover my eyes when girls are dragged screaming away from the only family they know, and said family watches them go. And I need that discomfort.

Aggressive and abrasive can also mean something else, though, and we’ve all read a girl power story like this. Where the heroine tears down everyone around her, regardless of gender, so she can lift herself to the heights she needs.

Black Widow deals very up close and personally with some very evil men. And yet, never once did they tear down a man to lift their woman up.

I hear you. “But Alexei—” you say.

And it’s true. The characters—and us, the audience—mercilessly mock Alexei. But we don’t mock him because “he’s a man and all men are dumb and stupid.”

No, we mock him because he’s Alexei. He could have been a woman and we would have laughed the same way. His character traits and the things we may or may not mock him for are not tied to his gender. And in the end, he has the chance to choose something more heroic, just like our heroines do, whether or not he ultimately takes it.

There aren’t very many men in Black Widow, but there’s at least one good dude, even if it’s just the guy who gives Natasha a safe house, or references to how Clint Barton has helped her. Which is so important especially when dealing with heavy subject matter like this film does, where the men would and could be villains.

But in making sure the heroines don’t put anyone down, the film also doesn’t allow anyone to put down the heroines. No other character, regardless of who they are, eclipses Natasha and Yelena. The women take center stage here. But they didn’t push anyone out of the way to get there.

Because they didn’t have to push anyone down to get where they are, Natasha and Yelena are actually stronger. They don’t steal their strength from someone else, male or female. And because of that, their inherent strength is more, because they have enough to stand on their own.  

The Female Gaze (alternatively titled The Importance of Pockets)

Just because they included good guys doesn’t mean they downplayed evil and injustice. Dreykov still exists. There’s a reason I cry during the opening sequence. It is brutal and it is heart-wrenching and it captures feelings that touch every woman on this planet in a way.

On the flipside, the film also includes the unique joys that women experience—whether that’s sisterhood or the value of an outfit with lots of pockets. (If you know you know, and you’re probably a woman.)

I should also note that none of their struggles centered around romance. That’s not to say that it wasn’t represented—Melina had whatever she had with Alexei.

But neither Yelena or Natasha can have children, but they don’t treat themselves like they’re broken. Neither Yelena or Natasha are at all interested in romance right now, and they don’t act like they’re incomplete. (Unlike some other Marvel projects I could name . . . cough, cough, Age of Ultron.)

In a culture that, for all the empowering messages it claims, also tells women that they only matter if they’re attached to someone, it’s refreshing to see a film that neither slanders marriage and family but also recognizes that marriage and family is not a woman’s purpose.

If you have a minute to kill (and I’m guessing you do if you’re reading this), here’s a interesting exercise I stumbled upon in the depths of Google one day. Someone placed the Black Widow Avengers poster beside the Black Widow poster for her titular movie. I won’t even say anything, just take a look at them and guess which film was directed by a woman.

Everything from her costume color to her hairstyle to the angle she faces the camera is affected by a women’s viewpoint.

And if you’re a dude and you’re despairing and thinking this counts you out, let me point out that a man wrote the Black Widow screenplay. Learning these angles and ideas is for everyone, not just women.

This Princess Saves Herself

Hear me on this: There’s nothing wrong with a man saving a woman.

But the vast majority of women have had to save themselves. They have had to fight and kick and claw and scream their way out. So stories where a man saves the woman from all her troubles can feel trite and insulting.

This movie allows for that. Natasha, Yelena, and Melina sever their own nerve so to speak to escape Dreykov and rescue the women around them. 

And yet not every woman is an untouchable savior. Melina allowed Yelena and Natasha to be trafficked and even assisted their trafficker. Natasha attempted to kill Dreykov’s daughter to complete a mission. Yelena . . . okay, Yelena is actually fine for now, although she gets into sketchy stuff later in the MCU.

The heroines are allowed to be messy and imperfect and sometimes deeply wrong.

This is why it was so important that Taskmaster was a woman. Her struggle, Natasha’s struggle, and the ways they mirror each other even as they’re hurting each other has a very raw power. We all support women helping women, but women also sometimes hurt women. Watching Natasha make that right, however imperfectly, means something, much more than if Taskmaster was just another male villain.

When all is said and all is done, the movie is allowed to be a story about women and the myriad of relationships between them. But notice that this movie never says “this is a story about women.” There’s no impassioned go-girls speech. Instead, the filmmakers simply let their heroines take the lead and followed them into all the messy, confusing places of being a girl in this world.

There’s not only something beautiful about that, there’s something powerful. 
​

The keynote session centered around the need for traditional heroes. The speaker made her point eloquently. But even when the talk finished and the audience wandered back out into the hallway, something didn’t sit right with me. I looked over my notes, but nothing stood out. I agreed with the points she made!

I shoved my notepad in my bag and left for my next session. But every so often over the month afterward, I’d puzzle over what had unsettled me. After a lot of thought, I finally realized—the speaker seemed to claim that a lack of traditional heroes was the downfall of our society.

And then she laid the blame for the lack of traditional heroes at the feet of antiheroes.

Merriam-Webster defines an antihero as “a protagonist or notable figure who is conspicuously lacking in heroic qualities.” This doesn’t have to mean that they’re morally gray, but it often does. Hence why this speaker blamed antiheroes for our modern problems.

That idea was what I resisted. But why?

I’m not always the person who takes the more “traditional” route. I’ve built my entire brand around unconventional heroines. So was I pushing back because of some natural rebellion, some fatal flaw in myself?

I’m inclined to believe no. Because traditional heroes have influenced me deeply, sure. I’m a Spider-Man fan like anybody else.

But the books and movies and shows that influenced me (and my writing!) most deeply were the ones that starred antiheroes. 

And so I was left balancing the need for traditional heroes with the undeniable good that antiheroes have worked in my life. My resistance didn’t stem from a belief that we didn’t need more good heroes. My resistance came from laying the blame at the feet of one specific character type.

She wasn’t the first Christian speaker I’ve heard take this position. Many Christian artists think God-glorifying authors are better off avoiding antiheroes altogether, or at the very least regarding them with suspicious scrutiny.

You might have guessed that I’m not one of them. In this blog post, I’ll explain why I think antiheroes matter for Christians, and why I believe (when used thoughtfully) they have just as great, if not greater an impact, than a traditional hero.

What Antiheroes Do That Good Guys Can’t

I’ve noticed two main ways that antiheroes succeed where the “good guys” can’t.

One: They can feel more human. And because they feel more human, they connect with readers differently. This is why stories like Six of Crows and Arcane: League of Legends stick with me. Each character made excellent choices and flawed choices, but I could see myself in both of the extremes.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying good people don’t exist! This is why fictional traditional heroes matter—they remind us of the good that remains in the world. (Which is exactly that keynote speaker’s point!)

But even the best earthly person has a flaw.

Antiheroes connect with our flaws. That forges a different and unique bond that draws us deeper into their story, for better or for worse.

Two: They illustrate the consequences of evil without us going there ourselves.

I’ll discuss this more later with a personal example (or you can fast forward if you’re a rebel), but when I read a book with a flawed protagonist, it exposes those same thought patterns and ideas in me—BEFORE I meet the same destructive ends that these characters do. Stories matter, and because of these antiheroes, I changed so I wouldn’t become them. They used that unique bond to create change.

Maybe Labels are the Real Villains

I’ve talked a lot about antiheroes and heroes and all that. But I think labels like that hold us back.

When I say that my book has a traditional hero, now I HAVE to make sure their morals are pure so outraged readers don’t contact me.

When I announce I’m writing an antihero, now I HAVE to make sure they’re the right amount of skewed without making everyone clasp their pearls.

And if I’m worrying about those things, then I’m not worried about writing a good character.

What would happen if we swept all the labels aside and created human characters?

Sometimes they’ll have traditional heroic morals. Other times they’ll humor their dark side a bit. But they’ll be real. They’ll be authentic.

Sometimes they might be antiheroes.

The Ambiguity of “Moral Ambiguity”

So why can Christian authors be so afraid of antiheroes?

Because we don’t know what moral ambiguity is.

Many Christian artists who despise antiheroes often speak about the evils of morally ambiguous stories. The prevailing belief seems to be that if you work with antiheroes or even very flawed characters, you’ve chosen a story without morals.

I don’t think this is true. I’m not even quite sure it IS possible to write a story without morals.

Here’s why. Merriam-Webster defines moral as “relating to principles of right and wrong in behavior.”

Every person, whether they acknowledge it or not, has their own principles of right and wrong—even if they believe (or think they believe) that their actions don’t matter. They still have things that they will or will not do. They may not have a healthy sense of morals, but they have morals nonetheless.

So if we create characters that are complete persons like I talked about above, they naturally have morals. They have their own sense of what’s right or wrong.

But for the sake of this example, let’s say I did somehow create a character completely without morals. Guess what? I am still also a person, and I bring my own morals and worldview to the story.

But let’s say I wrote something completely without my own morals or my characters’ morals. The reader who picks up my book also brings their own morals and worldview to how they view this story.

Merriam-Webster defines moral ambiguity as “a lack of certainty about whether something is right or wrong.”

So in that sense, I’m not quite sure it’s possible to truly have a morally ambiguous story. My character might not be sure what’s right or wrong, but those stories will lead me or the reader to make our own decisions on whether they were right or wrong.

For instance, I love the Six of Crows duology. The Crows might think that committing fraud is a good way to solve their problems. Maybe the author does too (I doubt it). But I don’t, and I’m reading the story through that lens.

Somewhere in every story there are morals. Someone—the character, the writer, or the reader—has principles about whether something is right or wrong.

So Christian authors who worry about moral ambiguity are actually worried about books with bad morals. Which is a VERY valid concern.

Because a reader’s sense of morals can be strengthened, challenged, or even changed by my story. So if I write an antihero with questionable morals, it’s all the more important that I, the author, write from a place of healthy, secure morals. Because I can’t count on the reader bringing those morals to the story.

And hey, if I do that, I’ll avoid that moral ambiguity, if it does indeed exist.

Which brings us to The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes—aka one of the books that impacted me the most deeply.

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and . . . Myself

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes did something that none of the other Hunger Games books could. I started Ballad certain that I wouldn’t like it nearly as much as the original books. After all, I knew what Snow would become. I would NOT feel any sympathy for him.

Spoiler alert: I did. The Snow we meet at the beginning of Ballad didn’t seem quite so bad. Was he a bit judgy? Sure. But he just wanted to provide for his cousin and grandmother. Maybe I could relate after all—just a tiny bit.

The story continued, and Snow made worse and worse choices. I’d cringe a little bit—oof, that particular choice was pretty bad—but I could see how he got here, why he made that decision. Who’s to say in his situation I wouldn’t do the same?

And then the epilogue punched me in the face.

It left no doubt—Snow was absolutely evil, completely wrong both in what he valued and in what he chose. He had been that way from the start.

And I had sympathized with him.

Ballad made me confront the darker and less honorable parts of myself in a way that Katniss and all her good morals could not. Does that mean Katniss is useless? Far from it! But Snow’s story captured unique advantages that hers could not.

Ballad shaped how I think about and value other people. Lucy Gray and Katniss Everdeen didn’t make that change in me. Coriolanus Snow did, of all people.

I can argue for antiheroes all day long, but when it comes down to it, this is why I can’t lay all the blame at their doorstep. Because flawed stories and flawed characters have personally impacted me for good.

All Things in Balance as They Should Be

We humans tend to overcorrect. We read about the need for traditional heroes and resolve to never write an antihero or anyone else whose good morals are not crystal clear ever again. Or we read about the good that antiheroes can do and we throw out traditional heroes. (I’m guilty of both.)

But we need both heroes and antiheroes in different ways and for different purposes.

Don’t worry about creating a good hero, or a good antihero, or a good anything else. Create good characters first. Discover what makes them human. Give them both good and bad parts of themselves and make them a whole person. Look past the labels.

And by all means, create your traditional hero. Create as many as you like! We need them. But don’t relegate antiheroes to the platform that lifts them up.

What if we all released our labels and created raw, human characters instead? What if we confronted the good and the bad of our own morals and our readers’ morals on the pages?

I think that might have more power than a thousand “traditional” heroes combined.  

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult/new adult fantasy novels that walk the line between the darker elements of fantasy and the weirder elements of cartoons. But more importantly, I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want, plus maybe a metaphor about grief? Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates about what I’m reading, watching, and writing. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! ​

Only a couple days after getting back and crashing after Realm Makers, I set out for Taylor University’s Professional Writers Conference.

While Realm Makers was a brand new experience, I’ve attended the Taylor conference since the very first 2016 one. (My one bragging right.) So yes, I took another trip and attended another conference, but I knew the drill and already felt pretty comfortable.

Thursday

Rather than get a hotel like past years, this year I stayed with my friend, Laurel (because she hadn't had enough of me on that Realm Makers carpool).

This year started out with an advanced track with two sessions. Thursday centered around deep point of view (writing like you’re in the character’s head, which leads to a more immersive story). When I read the schedule, while I knew I could still learn, I thought I had a good handle on deep POV. But I learned SO much. I love that Linda Glaz (our instructor) used hands-on examples and let us practice all the skills she taught us.

The conference provides meals on campus, and it’s always a great time to meet new people. I connected with writers I’ve met at the conference before, writers I know online, and writers new to me.
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I headed back to Laurel’s, but she was making an airport run, so I befriended her cat, unpacked my bags, and settled in with a book. When she did get back, we chatted, messed around with various curiosities (including but not limited to a giant ceramic frog), and generally harassed her cat. 
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Friday                 
                                           
I had breakfast on campus for the first time this year, and I loved the extra time to connect with other writers and attendees before we headed off to our second session.

Saturday’s advanced session was on proposals, and it might be the best class I’ve ever attended on proposals. Linda Glaz laid everything out so clearly. We practiced again, this time with our one sentence pitches. I worked up the courage to share mine, and her response and encouragement made me feel so confident. (That’s when I knew I was going to write this book.)

Her two sessions—where I practiced a pitch and developed my main character’s voice—inspired so much. I came home and immediately began planning and drafting a novel. Because by golly, if Linda Glaz thinks my pitch is good, then I’ll write the book to go with it. (If you give a Rachel a pitch, she will want a novel to go with it.)

That ended the advanced track and we moved on to the general conference. Zena Dell Lowe did all our keynotes, and they centered around why we need more traditional fictional heroes today. I’m not sure I agreed with everything she said—while I DID agree that we need more traditional heroes to balance things out, I’ve got some different opinions particularly on to antiheroes. (I’ll write a blog post, don’t worry.) Still, she made some excellent points and gave me SO MUCH food for thought, and you know me, I love anything that makes me think.

The breakout sessions I attended on the first day centered around platform and marketing. Becca Schriner’s session stood out—in the crazy world of the internet, I always need that reminder that I DO have cool things to post and blog about just because I’m myself. I also loved the evening group where we could ask any platform/marketing question and get it answered.

At the last moment, Taylor announced that Jori Hanna would hold one on one appointments, so I got one with her. I’ve met with her for the past two years at least. She’s the main reason my Instagram looks the way it does now after I attended her class on short form video and discovered it was my jam. It’s like a little platform checkup each year—she looks at my website and Instagram and such, shows me where I’ve grown, and helps me see where I can improve. (She’s the reason you get two blog posts this month, so if you don’t like it, take it up with her.) I loved that she also attended the conference alongside us and that we got a chance to just hang out.

I was brave and signed up for the open mic session, where I shared a few pages of a short story that I hope to share with my newsletter soon (whenever I sit down and edit the darn thing).

Then I headed back to Laurel’s house to hang out with her and Naomi, who joined us for the evening. 

Saturday
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I had an interesting mix of breakout sessions on Saturday—everything from getting an agent to self-publishing to comics!

I had an appointment with Becky Antkowiak discussing how to set good goals. All the resources I’ve found immediately jump to five or ten year goals, which stresses me out. (If you are clutching your five-year planner as we speak, bravo. I’m not that girl.)

While I need to know my “destination,” I struggled to break it into small pieces that I could start now. Becky helped me do that. (Current goal? Draft my latest novel by December 31. And now I’ve got the steps so I can get there.)

I’ve also been considering whether I still want to traditionally publish. Self-publishing has changed a LOT since I started writing. It’s no longer the publishing industry black sheep. You can self-publish at a very high level of quality. After several authors I know self-published and succeeded, I wondered whether I should alter my course and pursue self-publishing instead.

Enter Cindy Lynn Sawyer’s self-publishing session. Based on how I reacted to all the nitty-gritty details I’d have to handle myself (*picture me pointing at the checklist and screaming “what the HECK is that”), self-publishing isn’t my place right now—but I would have never have known that if she hadn’t laid it all out.
And then I attended a comics session. What was I doing there? I don’t know. I can’t even draw. But I have read exactly two graphic novels and wondered how the comic writing process differs from writing a typical novel. I did learn a lot, and even though comics may never be my thing, I think I have acquired good knowledge. 

I finished out with another session on fiction proposals, which complimented the advanced track session nicely. We attended our closing keynote and then it was over. But I hung around and had dinner with Laurel and her friends before making the drive back home.

The Taylor writing conference has always been a safe and happy place. Each year, I spot familiar faces, and each year, I meet someone new. It’s a smaller group and a smaller setting than Realm Makers, and unlike Realm Makers, YA fantasy authors are sometimes the minority. But I always come away inspired. I love that I can meet people who write very different things than I do and we still learn from and encourage each other. 

We’ve made it to another August, and here I am, piecing everything together and restarting normal habits after two writers’ conferences. As I write this, I’m staring down “back to school and work” on my weekly calendar, which unfortunately requires me to come back to “normal.” So I’m processing all I learned and all I experienced, because I know I’ll need that fuel, especially these next couple weeks. And since it turned out to be such a long update, I decided I’d post it here, instead of only on my newsletter.
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So let’s get started with my very first Realm Makers!

Thursday

I carpooled with my friend Laurel to Grand Rapids (thank goodness, because city driving terrified me). We chatted about anything and everything, which included but was not limited to poking fun at Michigan billboards. (Seriously, why did Michigan have so many horribly designed billboards on that particular highway?)

This was the first time I can remember that I went to a CITY city. Driving into Grand Rapids, seeing all the tall buildings, and navigating the city streets blew my Indiana country mind.
Laurel was running a booth at the first ever Realm Makers Expo, so I helped her set up, which meant I also got a sneak peek at the convention center and all the expo booths. I’m so glad I arrived a day early. Orienting myself helped fight off that overwhelm.

Until I got to my hotel room. I don’t know if the day’s excitement caught up with me or if it just hit me that I was really here and really doing this. But by the time I found my room, unpacked, and met all my fantastic roommates, I was exhausted and wondering just a bit what I was doing here. A quiet hour in the room and a frozen yogurt trip with my friends Hope and Seth reset my perspective. (Always believe in the power of frozen yogurt and friendship, guys.)
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Friday

Random Discovery: Hotel fountain and fountain time! If I got around in the morning and had a few minutes left, I’d hang out beside the fountain. It helped me take some quiet and start the day well.

I successfully navigated from the hotel to the convention center. As it turns out, hanging around the convention center lobby is a great way to meet people! The Realm Makers staff even trusted me enough to put me on the appointments desk, which made me feel very special.

The conference kicked off with S. D. Smith’s keynote. I’d heard him speak via the Young Writer’s Workshop before, so I enjoyed hearing him teach in person. He has a unique presenting style that I’ve never heard anywhere else. (And skipping forward a bit—I got to meet him and he is just such a genuinely nice person.)

After the keynote, I made a mad dash back to the hotel for my Mabel Pines cosplay. Considering I procrastinated on my costume until the week before, I’m pretty dang proud of that costume. When I ventured back downstairs, the hotel lobby was filled with the usual fancy businesspeople in suits—and a growing crowd of cosplayers. I even worked up enough courage to join the costume parade. (I also may or may not have given directions to Wayne Thomas Batson.)

The awards banquet was like a FANCY fancy dinner. Luckily, we had exactly one person at our table who knew which fork to use. Also, can I just say, the dessert was the best cheesecake ever.

But way better than the cheesecake was the awards ceremony. I’ve read the Realm Awards results online for years now, but hyping up the books I love and celebrating every win in person was very special.

After the banquet, no one hurried to leave. We took pictures with friends, with tablemates, with the awards finalists, and with other cosplayers.

I got a picture with two other Gravity Falls cosplayers—who turned out to be Realm Awards finalist Lindsey Lewellen and her daughter Ann. I also met an epic Kaz Brekker cosplayer whom I very much regret not getting a picture with.

But to be fair, the event staff were telling everyone left that we needed to leave so they could close up the building. Since it was dark out, I took the skywalk back to the hotel. 

Saturday

Random Discovery: the river behind the convention center. I arranged to eat lunch with my friend Suzie next to the river, which was so calming and relaxing. I’m always here for natural moving water.
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We kicked off with Sarah Arthur’s keynote, which was secretly my favorite. I then headed to Lindsay Franklin’s breakout sessions on emotional and spiritual health in writing. And boy, did I need that. She spoke about exactly where I’ve been the past year (if you follow my newsletter, then you know it’s been a struggle lately). I was constantly caught between laughing at her fantastic sense of humor and crying because I just felt so seen and relieved.

I did guiltily sneak out of her session though—because I went to Sara Ella’s book signing! I even arrived early enough to get a physical ARC for her upcoming book. She is such a sweet and kind person.

I crossed off a Realm Makers bucket list item and attended a session by the legendary Carla Hoch—so I now know enough about fight scenes to make me potentially dangerous. Although she’d say I’m not actually the most dangerous person, because I’m not willing to start a fight. Not right now, anyway.  

Then it was off to the expo! Be proud of me, I was self-controlled and only bought four books (I think?), two stickers, and a candle.

The faculty book signing was that evening, so I wandered around taking pictures, meeting authors I love, and getting books signed. I met Kara Swanson, who has been one of the biggest influences on my writing, both through her own books and through her teaching. I then retreated to the bookstore and helped Suzie out. 

Sunday

Sunday morning opened with a beautiful worship service. I loved the mix of traditional hymns and more modern worship songs. The message (given by Bradley Caffee) spoke into all those places of hurt and suffering, both when it comes to our lives and when it comes to writing, in an especially touching way.

Off to the expo again! This time, I met Katie Leigh, which was absolutely insane because I was a hardcore Adventures in Odyssey kid. It felt like a full circle moment.

I also went to Mariposa Aristeo’s ARC drop and book signing. (I actually skipped my lunch break so I could be there.) I’ve followed Mariposa since long before she announced her book, and when I arrived twenty minutes early to find a dozen people already waiting (to the point the staff relocated the line because we were blocking the path), I couldn’t have been happier. I had so much fun meeting her.

I went to Nadine Brandes’ book signing after that, which was such a huge moment, since Nadine’s books were the first Christian fantasies I read that made me go “I want to write like THAT.”

I quickly ate a sandwich by the river and then ducked back inside to help check badges for a panel discussion on genre hopping. I can see genre hopping in my future, so I felt very reassured to hear that yes, it can be done and it can be done successfully.

The conference closed with N. D. Wilson’s keynote. I’d heard a lot of YWW students who swore by his teaching sessions, so I enjoyed getting to hear him speak for the first time. Then I squeezed in one last hour at the expo—during which I met Mike Nawrocki. WHAT. My childhood self would never believe any of this.

And then the closing announcement came over the speakers. Just like that, it was all over. I stayed to help Laurel take down her booth, and it was surreal watching everyone take down the booths that I watched them put together just a few days earlier.

I returned to the hotel for a late dinner and a few hours chatting with my roommates before we all went our separate ways the next morning. 

Monday

And for those wondering, Laurel and I had just as much fun on the way back, which may or may not have involved exploring a used book store and getting ice cream.

Takeaways

It’s so hard to condense that weekend down to even a blog post like this. I met so many wonderful people—authors who have inspired me for years, friends I’ve only ever met online, and friends that I do know in person but got to share this experience with.

It’s also impossible to sort out my biggest takeaways, but let me try.

I’ve been able to implement what I learned in Lindsay’s classes already in the few weeks I’ve been back, as that conference high fades and it’s back to the real world. I know I’ll carry those tools with me to deal with burnout, fear of failure, perfectionism, and more. But beyond that, I know I’ll remember the relief I felt as I heard her take the big scary struggles I’d been battling for months and calmly say “I have slides about that.” The way she approached these topics made me realize they’re not as big and dark as they feel, that they can be overcome.

I’ll also be taking Bradley Caffee’s Sunday message with me. All of us have things in our past that we didn’t choose and we wish we hadn’t had to deal with. All of us have things in our present that we don’t want. But that message has shaped how I look at all those things.

But—and my introvert self can’t believe I’m saying this—the best part was meeting people. Being somewhere I could use the word “dieselpunk” and everyone automatically knew what I meant. Being somewhere people were hyped over my book that I hadn’t even written yet—and I was hyped over theirs. Being somewhere where I could help people out and just listen to them for awhile. Where we wear costumes and ask people for pictures and don’t feel bad about it.

I’d heard that the big draw of Realm Makers is being somewhere with hundreds of people who just “get” it. And based on my experience at my first Realm Makers, I definitely believe that. I’m already scheming and saving with hopes to go next year, planning out potential costumes, and plotting what books I’ll bring with me. 

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult/new adult fantasy novels that walk the line between the darker elements of fantasy and the weirder elements of cartoons. But more importantly, I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want, plus maybe a metaphor about grief? Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates about what I’m reading, watching, and writing. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! ​

If you’ve followed my emails this year, you know that my writing hasn’t gone quite the way I had hoped.

I had planned that I would complete my first fantasy novel this year, and it would be THE ONE. (Whatever that means.)
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I didn’t expect perfection, or at least that’s what I told myself. But I did expect smooth sailing. After all, I’d drafted six publishable novels before this. I would pitch THE ONE, and, if I acknowledged my wildest dreams, I’d publish THE ONE.

None of that happened. THE ONE joined the sad collection of brilliant concepts that I gave up halfway through. Something was off and I couldn’t put my finger on what.

Not even five years ago, I was finishing novels left and right. I still looked back on those stories and characters and loved the work I did.

Now, even when I did struggle through a story and reach the end, I didn’t even like it all that much. I could see the glimmer of something good deep inside them, but they fell far short of all I dreamed they would be. I’d lost that connection that I once had.

And now I couldn’t even finish a story.

I felt like I’d lost the ability to write. No. Worse than that. I felt like I’d lost my creativity, my ability to create a story and a world and characters.

I couldn’t remember a time when I couldn’t write. I’d always had that ability. Stories had always been there. I’d always been writing one story or another. And now when people asked about my writing, I had nothing to show for my hours and hours of work.

I felt like I was letting someone down somewhere.

I was letting myself down.

I know I’ve said a lot about myself, but maybe you can relate, too. Something you could do once is gone, and it feels like it’s taken a part of you with it.

Lots of factors can cause this, some of them serious. So I’m not at all saying  this discussion will cure it all. There are things that are bigger than what we can handle alone.

So I asked my writing mentors and instructors how they handled it. Was this even a normal feeling? Turns out it was. And each instructor, without fail, said I needed to step back.

That was the last thing I wanted. I wanted to push forward! I wanted to accomplish things! I wanted to impress all those people who were waiting on me to do something spectacular! I watched so many good opportunities slide past. I felt like I was missing out and left behind.

But the advice didn’t change—take a step back. Reconnect with what I love. Why did I love those early stories I wrote? Why did I love writing? What would keep me going when it wasn’t fun or easy anymore?

So reluctantly, I cleared all the big writing projects I’d hoped to complete this summer. I decided to use these months to write whatever interested me at the time.

I can’t speak to the long term effects of this approach. But I can say that I have had a lot more fun with my writing sessions, the way I used to.

But I want to focus on something else for a moment.

When I was most discouraged, I thought I would never complete another story I loved ever again. (My brain is quite the drama queen.) My brain confused the fact that I couldn’t write right now with the idea that I never would again.

But like I said, I’d always been able to write. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do it yet. I already had. So didn’t I need to just push through and do it? To quit being lazy?

Enter Pilates.

Since I’ve had more time during the summer, I’ve been working out more. And nowhere was this “not yet” concept illustrated more clearly than during Pilates.

Of course I had a rough first couple days. But I slowly built more muscle and stamina, until I could hold the stretches as long as the instructor.

Which made me even more frustrated when I couldn’t. I mean, this was ridiculous! I could hold a perfect bridge yesterday. Why not today?

There were lots of reasons why. Maybe I hadn’t slept well. Maybe I’d been more active than usual the day before. Maybe I was sick. Maybe there was no reason! (That was the one that infuriated me the most.)

Pilates stresses listening to your body. Not in a creepy “I can heal myself with my mind” way—paying attention to which muscles hurt, which areas feel good, where I’m struggling, where I’m getting stronger. I’ve learned to notice where I can challenge myself and where I need rest so I don’t hurt myself. Crazy thing—God designed our bodies like that.

When I write, I can listen to my brain and to my heart. What can I do today? Where can I stretch? Where do I need rest?

So I did what I could do that day. And sometimes the next day I still struggled. But sometimes the next day I could do it again.

And during a Pilates class, I finally realized. Writing might be hard now. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t write at all. I could do what I was able to right then.

And just because it’s hard right now doesn’t mean that I’ll never create a story again. It means I can’t right now, and I need to rest and slowly build those muscles again.

I wasn’t a Pilates failure because I couldn’t hold one particular stretch. I could do an easier stretch instead. I could take a break. It didn’t matter. I was working out, I was getting stronger, and I was having fun.

So I couldn’t draft a full length novel right now. But I could write a short story. I could play around with new ideas. I could revisit old characters. It didn’t matter. I was writing, I was being creative, and I was having fun.

Just because I can’t do it today doesn’t mean I never will. Just because I could do it yesterday doesn’t mean I have to do it today.

I don’t know what your thing is—whether art or exercise or work or something completely different. But what has been true for me these past months is true for you, too. Just because you can’t do it today doesn’t mean you never will. Rest if you need rest, and reconnect with why you love whatever it is.

It will come back when you’re ready. Challenge yourself a little bit at a time. You’ll get there soon enough. 

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult/new adult fantasy novels that walk the line between the darker elements of fantasy and the weirder elements of cartoons. But more importantly, I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want, plus maybe a metaphor about grief? Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates about what I’m reading, watching, and writing. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! ​

I was twenty-three before I watched my favorite kids’ cartoons.
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To be fair, I got a late start. Due to life circumstances that were out of my control, I was a heavily sheltered kid (which my heavily sheltered friends will know comes with unique pros and cons).

But then I got older, and those circumstances changed, and I made my own decisions about my media and entertainment. And along the way, I stumbled across some cartoons that became a comfort.

It was easy. I didn’t have to invest too much time, just twenty minutes here or there. No matter what happened, I knew it would work out (mostly) by the end. It was safe. It was familiar. It was comforting.

But it also brought shame with it. After all, I was twenty-three. A grown person. Other people my age watched mature dramas, and I curled up in the corner with Disney Channel reruns.

I figured it was just because I had a late start. I was living the glory days I didn’t have, and sooner or later I’d find those more mature stories.

And don’t get me wrong, I love mature stories, too. (Six of Crows and Arcane, anyone?)

But the opposite happened. I traveled even further down the cartoon wormhole and found even more shows that I love and will pop on after a long day at work.

More than that, I found other adults who feel the same. I can talk about my favorite cartoons around them and not feel silly or childish.

Cartoons aren’t just for kids anymore, and maybe they never were. More and more, shows intended for kids attract older teens and adults with them. (Consider Gravity Falls—while the show is aimed at kids and aired on Disney, the creator recently released a spin-off book exclusively for older teens and adults.)

So, as I put on my favorite cartoons and wind down, I can’t help but wonder why cartoons—and other kids’ media—captivate adults so much.

Does it say something about how we view adulthood?

THE NOSTALGIA FACTOR

The world kinda lacks nostalgia. 

 We get up early, we go to work to make money, but we can’t even spend that money on fun stuff, no, we pay bills and repair our car and get gas. (Don’t get me started on insurance calls.) We come back home exhausted after a full work day, catch up on a few chores around the house, and by then it’s time to fall into bed and scroll news videos that make us feel horrible, but we somehow feel worse if we scroll past.

Kids’ media brings back those simpler times. Sometimes it’s because we grew up with a show and it takes it back. Sometimes (like in my case) we may have never grown up with the show ourselves, but the vibe brings back our childhood anyway.

Not to use a Gravity Falls example again (but I absolutely will), I was about twelve or thirteen when the first season aired. I never watched the show then, but when I did watch it about ten years later, it transported me back to the twelve-year-old me who could wander the woods for hours in my own make-believe world searching for conspiracies.

(In hindsight, it’s good younger me didn’t watch Gravity Falls. Or Phineas and Ferb. She would have been insufferable.)

I wonder if that’s why we come back to the colorful screens of kids’ cartoons and media. Being grown up isn’t all we hoped and dreamed and imagined, and all we want now is to go back to that simpler time. It’s not that we didn’t have problems then—we did, sometimes really big ones. I can’t quite put it in words, but everything felt smaller and bigger all at the same time.

The nostalgia factor can go beyond screens. Like I mentioned, I felt embarrassed for being an adult and loving kids’ media and cartoons. We all think we know what adulthood should look like, and we all study the other adults around us and think they’re absolutely killing it out there.

But deep down inside, even on our best days, we all feel like three kids stacked in a trench coat.

It seems silly to say it all changed with a meme, but it did. I don’t have the screenshot anymore, but it said something like, “your twenties are for enjoying all the same things you loved as a kid, except you’re not embarrassed about it anymore.”

Once I adopted that mindset, nostalgia and wonder didn’t stay in my screen, they colored my life, too. It was okay to do things just because I enjoyed them, even if those things seemed a little silly. It was okay to read a cheesy book because it sounded fun, or to take a walk even if no one else came along. I’m not perfect at it by any stretch, but I’m learning to be myself and to enjoy things—embarrassment free.

This is why I find kids’ media so powerful. It reintroduces wonder and nostalgia into our everyday life.

SIMPLE STORIES, DEEP TRUTH

Remember how I said our childhoods weren’t without their problems? Well, cartoons aren’t either.

Not all those problems were as big a deal as we thought, now that we look back. A squabble with a sibling, or a lost possession, or a silly fear that wouldn’t quite leave us alone.

But we underestimate how big the problems are that kids sometimes deal with. Kid me dealt with big things, even if I didn’t have words for them at the time. And sometimes those hurts, big and small, follow us into adulthood.

Kids’ cartoons and media have a unique stage that allows them to tackle these problems. The stories themselves are simpler—a bad guy must be vanquished or an adventure must be had, and by golly, these colorful two-dimensional characters will find it!

As stunning as complex themes and questions can be, sometimes we need a simple story.

I’ve used Gravity Falls examples so far, so why stop now? One episode in particular struck me, where the monster of the week waited until the main character was tired and frustrated and hurt by a sibling before he attempts a deal.

I could think of so many times and spaces where I felt tired and frustrated and hurt. And it made me consider what “monsters” might poke at those spaces and attempt a deal.

A simple point. Basic, some might even say. But still powerful.

On the other end of the spectrum, another cartoon I enjoyed, The Owl House, dealt with topics like abuse and manipulation—heavy topics, and topics very close to home for me. But within the borders of this fantastical story, they didn’t feel quite so big, and I could approach them more clearly.

Kids’ cartoons and media create a safe space. They can tackle deep topics so well because they’re simple.

We seek out cartoons to relax, to unwind. Through their structure and predictability, their color and humor, they build a safe space each morning or evening or whenever we press play. They give us a safe space to talk about the things that bother us, maybe things that have bothered us for a long time. Sometimes they put plain words to thoughts that swirl around our heads.

So yeah, I still watch cartoons, even though I’m a grown-up. But now I’m not quite so embarrassed about it. Because at day’s end, there’s something special about seeking out nostalgia and wonder—the wonderful things that God placed here for us to find. I’m pretty sure He didn’t mean for us to drudge through our lives. Life can be hard but there’s still things to enjoy.

And at day’s end, there’s something special about saying deep things in a simple way. We all need those spaces. We all need that wonder.

Maybe, we all need cartoons.

What are your favorite cartoons? Drop them in the comments below—I’m always looking for recs. While I’m at it, I’ll share my faves, too.


Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult/new adult fantasy novels that walk the line between the darker elements of fantasy and the weirder elements of cartoons. But more importantly, I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want, plus maybe a metaphor about grief? Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates about what I’m reading, watching, and writing. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! 

​I know, I know. We’re almost halfway through 2025 and I’m doing this now? But you know what, life happens, so here I am. Anyway, here are my most anticipated 2025 reads, which ones I’ve read, and how they’ve measured up. They’re in no particular order, just so you know. I’ve also included content warnings.

Ambessa: Chosen of the Wolf by C. L. Clark
(Fantasy) (READ)
(Please note: this book deals with sensitive topics/content including harsh language, gore, and implied sexual content. Some readers may also want to be aware of LGBTQIA+ characters.)

It is absolutely no secret that I love the TV show Arcane: League of Legends. So I freaked out a little when they announced a spin-off novel. While this one is best enjoyed by Arcane and League of Legends super-fans, I found it very true to the TV show, especially the characters and the brutal moral dilemmas they faced. (Five stars.)

The Codebreaker’s Daughter by Amy Lynn Green
(Christian adult historical)

Amy Lynn Green never misses. I’m fascinated with codebreaker stories, and it looks like the mother/daughter conflict and relationship will play a huge role in this one, which I’m definitely here for. My copy actually just came in, and I can’t wait to get started!

Glass Across the Sea by Sara Ella
(YA fantasy)

Sara Ella’s books just get better and better the more she writes, and I can’t wait for her unique twists on the Cinderella fairy tale in this novel. It looks like it will tie in with the original Perrault fairy tale and I’m super excited.

The Ivory City by Emily Bain Murphy
(Adult historical mystery)
(Please note: The content in this author’s books varies, so I can’t speak yet to this title’s content.)

I’ve read most of Emily Bain Murphy’s books, and I’ll be honest, some have been hits for me and others not so much. But I’m still excited to see what she does with an adult historical mystery, especially one with such an intriguing setting.

A Language of Dragons by S. F. Williamson
(Historical fantasy)

This one might turn out really good or really not, I’m just not sure yet. But it’s Bletchley Park and dragons—an absolutely killer concept. Because I haven’t read any of this author’s stories before and found this through the Goodreads blurb, I can’t speak to any content it may or may not have, so use discretion.

A Lethal Engagement by A. J. Skelley
(Historical mystery)

Man, this year has been all about the clever fantasy and the historical mysteries. But on the historical mystery side of things, this one really sticks out. It seems to have a bevy of interesting elements that you don’t always see in historicals and I’m interested to see how it all plays out, especially since this is my first A. J. Skelley book.

The Secret Investigator of Astor Street by Stephanie Morrill
(YA historical mystery)

The Lost Girl of Astor Street is getting a sequel after all these years? Yes, please! I remember Piper Sail as a wonderfully sensible main character and detective, and I’m looking forward to revisiting her and Astor Street.

Sons of Day and Night by Mariposa Aristeo
(Christian YA fantasy)

I have been following Mariposa Aristeo ever since she put out a series of Disney themed bookstagram reels (seriously, those reels won the internet for a good long while for me). It’s been so neat to follow her writing journey since then, so I was ecstatic when she announced she had a book deal. On top of that, the story for this one sounds so unique and fantastic, and I have a feeling she’ll take it in some unexpected directions.
​
Star Wars: Sanctuary by Lamar Giles
(Sci-Fi)

Guys, we’re getting a Bad Batch novel! Bad Batch is one of my favorite Star Wars projects and I’m hopeful for where we see the characters end up in this book. (Don’t do them dirty. Please.)

A Study of Shattered Spells by Josiah DeGraaf
(Christian adult fantasy)

This one is probably my most anticipated book this year. I love all the dark academia vibes, and, as someone who works at an elementary school, I love the idea of a magic school from the teacher’s perspective. I also love that it looks like an excellently written Christian book that handles harder topics well. Plus, it’s a Christian fantasy for an adult audience, which is not very plentiful right now. It’s had a very successful Kickstarter run so far, and I can’t wait to receive the book this fall.

Sunrise on the Reaping by Suzanne Collins
(YA dystopian) (READ)
(Please note: this book deals with sensitive topics/content including gore, some language, and overall intensity. Some readers may want to be aware of LGBTQIA+ characters.)

This one blew me away, guys, and not just because it’s Hunger Games. Some call this the most brutal Hunger Games installment yet, and I do have to agree with that. And yet it tells such a crucial piece of the story that it changed how I saw all the other Games. It also carries with it some very deep and important themes. Oh yeah, and it also destroyed me. (Five stars.) (Let me know in the comments if you’d want a blog post about my Hunger Games reread!)

Wings of Starlight by Allison Saft
(YA fantasy) (READ)
(Please note: some readers may want to be aware of LGBTQIA+ characters.)

Yes, I was a hardcore Disney Fairies kid. So yes, I didn’t even really read the blurb, I just clicked the want to read Goodreads button. I read it last month, and while it’s definitely not the best book I’ll ever read, it did make my inner fairy-loving seven-year-old very happy. And that’s worth something, I think. (Three stars.)

What books have you been looking forward to this year? Have you read any of these? What did you think of them? Let me know in the comments below! (And also let me know if you want that Hunger Games blog post!)