Words are never enough
Musings on words, books, and the way they connect us imperfectly
Cross-posted to my website.
I’ve been thinking a lot about human connection lately. In the age of AI, ManyChat comments, and DM automatization—all from companies selling their products by touting their ability to foster genuine, human connection—not to mention the various hacks to stop the endless scroll and engagement metrics we’re all obsessed with, it definitely gives me some food for thought.
I remote taught for almost an entire year during COVID, so I am no stranger to the challenges of fostering human connection online. Before that, I wrote my master’s thesis on literacy in blogging communities, which is a fancy way of saying I did field research and wrote about how words connect us online. But I also think that books give us a unique way to connect and converse with each other across so many boundaries. It’s why I’ve dedicated my life (literally) to the written word. And Not a Strong Enough Word is, at its core, a romance about how words limit us but also connect us.
I even talked to my therapist about this yesterday. So you know it’s serious. (Also, before we proceed, I’m going to be talking briefly and with almost no detail about grief and miscarriage today. If that’s a sensitive topic, you may want to come back later.)
But first…
I am currently drinking straight up black, hot coffee. It’s less than ideal, but we weren’t able to do a comprehensive grocery trip last week, so I ran out of oat milk. It was either black coffee or no caffeine, and we all know it’s May so I need my fix.
Speaking of coffee, if you join me for my release event at Little Bean Books, your ticket price includes a themed coffee drink! A fun, bookish evening AND coffee? I know I’m speaking your language.
Words are magic. I believe this with my whole chest. Like I said above, I’ve devoted my entire life to words because I believe they connect us across time and space. A book is forever, in a way. It’s a constant. It never changes, even when we do. Words and books create connection and express feelings. Sometimes they’re not enough, but they’re all we have.
When we lost Olivia, I reached out to a former English professor of mine. Maybe she reached out to me? I don’t remember. It had been years since I had seen her, but she reached out a proverbial hand, anyway. It meant a lot at the time. But she wanted to know how she could help, and I asked her for a list of books about grief. I don’t know why I felt I needed that. I don’t even fully know why I asked for it. Usually, I try to avoid reading about what I’m going through as I’m going through it.
She sent the list. I got the books from the library. I read them slowly, because slow was all I had the capacity for at the time. They didn’t heal me fully, but they made me feel less alone. I think often about how she must have compiled that list, how she knew exactly which books to send. None were about miscarriage, but all of them validated every feeling I had—sadness, anger, fear, desolation. Some were fiction, some were nonfiction. Some had happy endings, and some let me sit in how shitty everything was without judgment. It was maybe the single best thing anyone did for me at that time. It was a way of sending love, of making a connection with me, of showing me exactly how people process the type of grief that will never, ever leave you.
She understood. She must have, on some level. People who have experienced that soul-deep grief often do. We’re connected. Someone said to me once, after the miscarriage, “Welcome to the club no one wants to be a part of.”
It was always interesting to me how my grief made me feel at once more connected to the world and also fostered my innate desire to be left completely alone. Scarlett is like that—she defaults to hermitude. (Is that a word? It is now, I guess.) She thinks everyone is better off without her. She would rather be alone. Deep down, she’s probably afraid of being a burden to those she loves. What she doesn’t realize—or, what she comes to realize—is that love is never a burden. And neither is she.
It would be years before I could write about that experience. My old therapist wanted me to write about it in detail. I said no. I still can’t write about a lot of it. Hell, I still don’t want to even talk about it most days. When I had the idea for Not a Strong Enough Word, I knew I wanted to write a second chance romance about two bookish characters. I knew Scarlett was burned out, and I knew Ryan would love her forever, regardless. That was the kind of story I needed. Words always connected them, and when they find each other again, it’s the words that bring them back together.
But Not a Strong Enough Word was born from the acknowledgment that words are hardly ever enough. And yet, they’re the best we have. Words connect us, even when we would rather remain disconnected. Even when we feel we aren’t worth loving. Especially then.
My professor is thanked in the acknowledgments of this book. I had the privilege of sending her a copy this week. The words I used to thank her will never be enough, but she’s dedicated her life to the written word, too. So, I think she knows.
I hope you find a connection in these pages. I hope you know how loved you are, even if love isn’t a strong enough word.
Not a Strong Enough Word - June 2, 2026 * Not on the Same Page - August 18, 2026 * Not the Way it Ends - November 10, 2026
Preorder now to get the limited edition sprayed edges and goodies from your favorite indie bookstore!
Did I tell you all I finished a draft of Not the Way it Ends? I can’t remember. BUT I DID! You all are going to love this book so much. It’s with beta and sensitivity readers now, but I’m pumped about this one…and also not ready to leave this world behind. Good thing I have months of editing promotion a head of me!
Speaking of promotion…did you know you can request Not a Strong Enough Word on NetGalley? YOU CAN! Go! Request it!
And don’t forget to snag your tour tickets! It’s LESS THAN A MONTH AWAY! (Follow me on Instagram for some ticket giveaways next week, too!
Set in the sun-soaked world of California surf culture, Tattered Tides is an emotional, slow-burn romance about second chances, self-forgiveness, and the healing power of love.
Weston Ashford was determined to have it all. After a tumultuous upbringing, he’d found a family of his own, a safe place to call home, and his calling: surfing. As a World Junior Champion, his future was finally bright, until his past came for him, and one mistake had him sinking straight toward rock bottom.
Years later, he’s fresh-out-the-slammer and stripped of his medal, his future uncertain. When one last chance to follow his dream of becoming a professional surfer presents itself, he takes it with both hands—no distractions, no weakness. That is, until he crosses paths with his coach’s daughter. Weston quickly realizes that, while she’s the only person capable of shaking his focus, she may be the only one capable of healing his heart too.
Willow Graham isn’t supposed to be here. She had plans, and they didn’t include an abrupt move back to her hometown of Pacific Shores, or dropping out of the University she worked so hard to attend. Her entire life unraveled after a traumatic experience she’s still struggling to come to terms with, and her only priority is getting back on track.
Both hellbent on rebuilding their futures and rediscovering who they are, Willow and Weston initially find themselves at odds when their shared spaces cause a tension neither of them are prepared for, but as their forced proximity gives way to mutual understanding, they discover a connection deeper than they ever thought possible.
Will their unexpected bond prove strong enough to overcome the tides between them, or will they end in tatters?
I hope it’s clear that what I try to do with these long-form newsletters (and my books in general) is genuinely connect with you. I do truly appreciate each comment and DM, even if I can’t respond to all of them right away. You’re never talking to a bot. (I tried that and felt super icky about it.) So thank you for being here. Truly. Those words aren’t enough either, but I mean them with my whole heart.
