Reclaiming the Joy of Writing and Creating, Not Just Publishing & Selling
I sat down at my desk this morning with a half-formed thought about personality frameworks and digital ministry, my coffee still steaming beside me, and realized I’ve been asking myself the wrong question.
I’ve been asking “what product do I need to finish this week?” instead of “what do I actually want to create today?”
The difference between those two questions is everything.
My word for 2026 is intentional joy, and I’ve been thinking a lot about what brings me joy in my creative life versus what creates obligation. What lights me up versus what weighs me down. What honors my calling versus what serves a capitalist framework that says creativity only counts if it produces something I can sell.
And here’s what I’ve realized: I want to write and create. I don’t want to just publish and sell.
The Productivity Trap I Didn’t Know I Was In
Somewhere along the way, I internalized a lie: being a writer means being an author means publishing books. And if I’m not working on THE book—the one that’s next in line to be published—then I’m not really writing. I’m not really creating. I’m just... what? Wasting time?
My husband asks me all the time: “What do you want to do?” And I always answer the same way: “I want to write.”
Not “I want to publish books.” Not “I want to build an author platform.” Just: I want to write.
But I’ve been dismissing my writing every single day because it wasn’t advancing the novel. I’d write a blog post exploring DISC personalities and digital ministry—doesn’t count, not the book. I’d film a video about my creative process—doesn’t count, not the book. I’d spend hours creating a framework for personality-aligned creative work—doesn’t count, not the book. I’d research public domain works for future story ideas—doesn’t count, not the book.
And it wasn’t just the “content creation” I was dismissing. It was ALL my creativity.
The meals I cook for my family? Just daily maintenance, not real creative work. The way I arrange our space to feel like home? Not productive. The hours I spend consuming other people’s books, videos, and creative work to fill my own well? Definitely not productive—that’s just procrastination, right?
I beat myself up constantly. What have you even accomplished? You’ve been “working” for months. You don’t have anything to show for your time. You’re not producing anything.
But here’s the truth I’m finally seeing: I’ve been creating every single day. Writing, filming, designing, cooking, making, learning, consuming. All of it is creative work. All of it feeds my soul. All of it counts.
The lie I believed—that we’ve all been sold—is that creativity only matters if it produces a marketable product. A book to sell. A course to launch. A product to promote. And anything that doesn’t fit that narrow definition gets dismissed as “not real work.”
I’m done with that lie.
Who I Actually Am (And What That Means for This Space)
Do you remember the early days of blogging? Before “content strategy,” “sales funnels,” and “monetization plans”? When people just... created? They posted about whatever interested them that day. They explored ideas in public. They built archives of their thinking and learning, organized by categories, readable by anyone who stumbled across their corner of the internet.
That’s what I’m going back to. I’m blogging on Substack.
Because here’s the truth about me:
I’m a lifelong learner who goes down rabbit holes. One day, I might be researching the theology of creation and how it applies to digital ministry. The next, I’m knee-deep in understanding how different DISC types manage their creative work. Then I’m exploring married couple romance tropes for my next book, or completely restructuring my planner to better support my emotional regulation this season, or thinking about how the book of Esther informs my understanding of platform building. My brain doesn’t stay in neat lanes, and I’m done apologizing for that.
I’m a multi-genre creator working across mediums. I write clean Christian romance and cozy mysteries under A.P. Peoples. I’m developing teaching resources about building digital ministry. I create videos documenting my creative life—and I’m returning to YouTube to share planning and goal-setting videos using my SSS framework. I design frameworks for personality-aligned work. I make meals and create a home. These aren’t separate identities—they’re all me, and they all feed each other.
Part of reclaiming joy means working through the rejection sensitivity dysphoria (RSD) that comes with my AuDHD. RSD is an intense emotional response to perceived rejection or criticism—and it had me so paralyzed about creating videos that I walked away from YouTube entirely. But I’m learning that the joy of creating is worth pushing through that fear. (If you want to hear more about my journey with RSD and what I’m learning about my neurodivergence, I’m sharing that story in my return-to-YouTube video.)
I’m a creator whose creativity shows up in my kitchen as much as my keyboard—the meals I cook for my family, the way I arrange books on shelves, the way I make our apartment feel like home. That’s creative work. It brings me joy. And I’m done dismissing it because it doesn’t produce a product I can sell.
I’m a consumer who finds joy in other people’s creativity. Reading books, watching videos, listening to podcasts, studying other people’s work—that’s creative INPUT, and it’s just as valuable as output. Sometimes the most creative thing I can do is fill my own well by consuming what others have made.
I write about faith, creativity, systems, and motherhood. Sometimes all in the same post. Because that’s how life actually works. My faith informs my parenting, which shapes my creative practice, which requires systems that honor my neurodivergent brain, which circles back to how I understand God’s design.
I have a neurodivergent brain that thrives with multiple interests, not a narrow focus. The advice to “pick one niche” has never worked for me. My AuDHD brain lights up when I can connect ideas across disciplines. Trying to force myself into a single lane doesn’t make me more focused—it makes me miserable.
I’m choosing intentional joy. And that means building systems that work FOR me, not against me. It means honoring my Soft, Sacred, Slow philosophy not just in what I teach but in how I actually operate. Soft—working with my design, not fighting it. Sacred—remembering this is about worship and calling, not just productivity. Slow—sustainable for the long haul, not just the next quarter. My planner isn’t just a place to track tasks—it’s become a tool for emotional support, helping me honor my seasonal capacity, set boundaries I actually need, and remember to celebrate what I did accomplish instead of only seeing what’s left undone.
The AuDHD Reality Nobody Talks About
Can I be honest about something? Writing novels is slow. Like, really slow. I’m working on my next book right now, and some days I feel like I’m making progress at the speed of continental drift. And my AuDHD brain really struggles with that.
I beat myself up constantly. What have you even accomplished? You’ve been working on this book for months. You don’t have anything to show for your time. You’re not producing anything.
But here’s what I’ve been dismissing while I fixate on THE book:
I’ve been writing blog posts almost weekly. Posts about faith, creativity, personality, and platform building. Words that help people. Teaching that serves a purpose. Stories that connect.
I’ve been creating videos. Documenting my creative process. Sharing what I’m learning. Building community through showing up on screen.
I’ve been developing products. Digital guides. Frameworks. Resources that will serve people long after I create them.
I’ve been cooking meals. Planning menus. Creating nourishment and gathering spaces for my family. That’s creative work—it just doesn’t produce something to sell, so I dismissed it.
I’ve been making our apartment feel like home. Arranging spaces. Creating beauty, comfort, and order for the people I love. That’s creative work too.
I’ve been consuming other people’s creativity. Reading their books. Watching their videos. Letting their ideas fill my well so I have something to draw from. That’s not procrastination—that’s creative input.
And yes, I’ve been slowly, steadily writing the book. But it’s not the ONLY thing I’m creating. It’s not the only thing that counts.
My neurodivergent brain craves tangible proof of productivity. It needs completion. It needs to see the thing I made. And that’s where two practices I’m building for myself come in.
First, there’s my planner—my paper command center where I can physically see my week, check off completed tasks, and track the daily acts of creating and caring that might otherwise disappear into the mental fog of “I didn’t do anything today.” It’s not about optimizing every minute or hustling harder. It’s about remembering that I showed up. That I made the meals, did the cleaning, spent time with my kids, worked on the book, wrote the blog post. My planner helps me regulate my emotions by creating realistic expectations for what I can actually handle in a day, honoring my energy levels instead of fighting against them.
Second, there’s compiling everything I wrote each month into an ebook I can download and print. Physical proof. Tangible evidence. “Look, here’s what you created in January. Here’s February’s collection. Here’s the body of work you’re building—and it’s not just the novel. It’s ALL of it.”
This isn’t vanity. This is executive function support. This is how I remember that I AM creating every day. I AM writing. I AM making things. The book will come. But in the meantime, I’m still a creator, and all of it counts.
What’s Changing (The Practical Stuff)
Okay, enough philosophy. Here’s the actual shift happening around here:
Everything is free. I’ve removed paid subscriptions entirely. This has always been digital ministry, and I want to honor that fully. All my writing here—past, present, and future—is freely available to anyone who wants to read it.
I’m blogging, not building a product pipeline. Throughout each month, I’ll write and publish posts about whatever I’m learning, researching, or exploring. Faith and creativity. Personality frameworks and platform building. Book reviews and writing updates. Motherhood and ministry. Systems and storytelling. Whatever captures my multipassionate attention that day gets written and published to my blog.
I might also share videos, photos of what I’m creating at home, snapshots of my life as a stay-at-home mom and writer. Because all of it—the words, the images, the meals, the videos—is part of my creative practice.
I’m also returning to YouTube. I’ll be sharing planning and goal-setting videos, showing how I use my planner and the SSS framework in this new season of life. But this isn’t about productivity for productivity’s sake—it’s about planning as a form of self-care, as emotional regulation, as a way to honor my actual capacity instead of pushing past my limits. It’s about bringing back the joy in planning, just like I’m reclaiming the joy in writing and creating. You’ll find those videos on my YouTube channel, and I’ll occasionally share them here too.
You’ll receive one email per week. Every Sunday, you’ll get The Sunday Sabbath devotional plus links to anything else I published that week. That’s it. Simple. Not overwhelming. Just a gentle weekly touchpoint. Some weeks might have three or four posts to choose from. Some weeks might just be the devotional. And that’s okay.
If you want to read posts as they’re published throughout the week (instead of waiting for Sunday’s roundup), you can visit my blog anytime and browse by topic using the tags. It’s organized like old-school blogs were—by category, by date, however you want to explore.
I’ll be creating monthly ebooks for myself—compiling everything I wrote that month into a tangible archive I can download, print, and hold. My AuDHD brain needs this physical proof that I’m creating, especially when the novel feels slow. If you’d like to download them too, I’ll make them available. Some months they might be robust, some months just a few posts—and that’s okay. This is about celebrating what I did create, not setting a quota for what I should create.
Your first Sunday email arrives this week, with The Sunday Sabbath and links to anything I publish between now and then. Right now I’m on a deadline for my next novel, so some weeks might be quieter than others. And you know what? That’s okay. That’s the beauty of this system. Some weeks will be full. Some weeks will be quiet. I’m giving myself permission to honor the season I’m in and trust that the creating I’m doing—even if it’s not producing a finished product every single week—still counts.
How You Can Support This Work
If this writing blesses you, encourages you, or helps you in your own creative journey, here’s how you can support:
One-time donations are available via the Stripe link in my footer. I’ve never been comfortable with recurring subscriptions for ministry work (and it creates this irrational pressure), but I deeply appreciate it when people choose to say “thank you” financially.
Shop my books and resources. This is actually where my income comes from—royalties from my fiction, and the digital and print-on-demand products I create for Christian creatives. When you buy my books or resources from my shop, you’re supporting my ability to keep writing and creating.
Share what resonates. If a post speaks to you, share it with someone who needs it. That’s how this work finds the people it’s meant to serve.
This model lets me focus on the joy of creating—books, yes, but also blog posts, videos, teaching resources, frameworks, meals, home—rather than obsessing over what will produce the most marketable product.
Coming Home to Joy in All Its Forms
This shift feels like coming home to myself.
Back to why I started writing in the first place—not to build a business or optimize a strategy, but because I love creating. I love exploring ideas through words. I love the act of making—whether that’s writing a blog post, filming a video, designing a resource, cooking a meal, or arranging books on a shelf.
I’m reclaiming the joy of creating for creation’s sake. The freedom to write about whatever interests me. The permission to make videos just because it’s fun. The acknowledgment that cooking dinner and making a home is creative work too. The recognition that consuming other people’s creativity is part of my own creative process.
This is creativity as worship. Creating as exploration. Creating as ministry. Creating as joy.
The goal isn’t a product. The goal is the process. The writing, the making, the living, the learning—that’s the point. If publishable books come from it, wonderful. If shop products emerge, great. But the creating itself is enough. It counts. It matters.
And I’m inviting you to join me on this journey—not as “subscribers” consuming “products,” but as fellow creators and fellow humans reading along as I think out loud, make things in public, honor all forms of creativity, and build a life centered on the joy of creating rather than the pressure to produce.
Welcome to my blog. Let’s see where intentional joy takes us.
If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear about it in the comments. And if you’re a creative who’s been dismissing your own daily creating because it doesn’t fit the narrow definition of “productive work,” know you’re not alone. All of it counts. The writing, the making, the cooking, the consuming—it’s all part of your creative life. Let’s reclaim the joy together.
Connect & Support
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