Chapter One... Again

Our worth vs. worthy endeavors + exciting news

Photo by Ylanite Koppens

Friends,

Last week I turned in my MFA thesis, and I have officially concluded my master’s studies. While this is a celebration in many ways, I will be honest; I’ve been wrestling with angst. I’ve left the nest of structure, accountability, and due dates and found that the one thing that remains is me.

I feel untethered and uncomfortable in the untethering.

In media res is the Latin term for “in the middle of things” and it’s the narrative technique used in the opening of most novels in which storytellers drop their audience into a protagonist’s day-to-day world. Backstory, relationships, and current circumstances are already at play when a story begins.

However, given the nature of good narratives, the reader also knows that this unsuspecting character is about to be thrust into some twist of fate, some blindsiding circumstance. In some cases, perhaps the protagonist saw it coming, but either way, life as they know it is about to change. A new season has arrived, a new chapter to a life already in motion.

Otherwise, there’s no story.

I’ve been thinking about this in relation to concluding my MFA, but also because the title of this post is a direct borrow from the title of this month’s book recommendation, Chapter One Again by Keelia Clarkson—and oh, the timeliness of the book. More on this lovely novel in a bit, because for the moment, I want to focus on its fantastic title.

I keep coming back to the idea of “chapter one again” because not only is it resonant for my current moment, but life in general. Our lives are a series of new chapters that arise in media res. Normally, I’m a fan of the “chapter one” moments in life. I thrive on change, new adventures, growth…at least the ones of my own choosing. Traumatic upheavals like the ones in many novels I can do without, thank you very much.

But considering my anxiety over feeling untethered, I’m not sure how I feel about my newest chapter one. I’ve prodded my angst, prayed about it, inspected it from various angles. On the surface, I think it comes down to the unpredictability of the writer’s endeavor, the volatility of the publishing world, and the very real danger of demoralization in the pursuit of publication.

I think it’s the latter where the deeper root lies.

Between some of my own discouragements and horror stories of other writer friends, the publishing business can make one question one’s worth. Perhaps that sounds dramatic, but a writer’s words are the work of their hands, and even if that work is not exclusive, I think it’s fair to say a person often ties their worth to their work.

I have three adult sons who are each wrestling through the idea of vocation. One recently graduated from college, one is taking a gap semester, and one just graduated from high school. Suffice it to say, vocation has been the topic of much discussion, prayer, and yes, angst, the past few years. None of them feel rooted in a particular path yet, and as their mother, I feel the weight of that. I’m particularly sympathetic, as I’m wrestling with my own issues on the topic.

For example, what if we spent all that money on my degree and it amounts to…nothing?

The thought, literally, terrifies me.

Yet…

This summer I am working through a study on Genesis with a group of women from my church. This past week we happened to be studying Genesis 2. Verse 15 gave me pause: “The LORD God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.”

In the previous chapter, God created male and female and called the day’s work very good. Then, God gave them the work of their hands. Another verse came instantly to mind: “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them” (Eph 2:10 ESV). You and I are God’s workmanship, and he does all things well.

Our work does not prove our inherent worth. Our existence does.

Interestingly enough, this is a major theme of my current work-in-progress, and I suppose I landed on the lesson I need myself. It seems I’m still learning.

Our life and our work are rarely linear. Plot twists take us on new paths. Loss happens. Sickness arrives uninvited. Vocations begin and end. In my context, traditional publication is not guaranteed. Even independent publishing presents hurdles and barriers. It takes expertise, time, and money to publish a good product.

And yet, as I begin another new chapter, I’m deeply encouraged by the knowledge that I have a God who is personal enough to tenderly place me in the garden of his choosing, and who is big enough to create the garden. And more importantly, he calls me very good with or without the work.

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June Book Recommendation

I had the privilege of interviewing Editor-in-Chief of Wallflower Journal, Keelia Clarkson, here at Letters and Literature last year, and I’ve been looking forward to her debut novel ever since.

About the book from the publisher:

“Jane is a successful ghostwriter living her dream in New York City, collaborating with movie stars and musicians while quietly longing to publish her own novel.

But just as her career comes to a crossroads, she’s called back to her hometown of Avila Falls, a charming mountain town with a colorful cast of characters, where a chance encounter with her high school crush stirs unexpected questions about her NYC life. These doubts deepen as Jane tries to find her place back in Avila Falls; begins a new project with Liv, a pop star grappling with her own identity; and reconnects with a friend and mentor who runs the local bookstore, And Then There Were Books.

Jane begins to see her hometown differently and sparks begin to fly. She questions whether the version of herself she’s created is truly who she wants to be. Could the answers she’s searching for lie in the very place she once ran from?”

Writer? NYC? If you’ve been following this newsletter for any length of time, you’ll know I was fully invested from the start! What I didn’t expect was the timeliness I mentioned in my earlier reflection.

I moved to New York City at seventeen to pursue the performing arts, and I wrestled greatly with my sense of worth attached to that pursuit. In fact, my salvation story directly ties to the grappling, and so Jane’s narrative was relatable. However, I never imagined I’d find myself staring at the same issue wrapped in a new package some twenty-six years later.

Ultimately, Jane must discover if her worth is tied to her “important” life in New York, or something else entirely. My guess is we all live some version of this story. Whether it’s vocation, parenthood, relationships, the grandeur of our circumstances, (or for minimalists, the lack thereof), we have a way of making the wrong things the measure of our worth.

Beyond the theme, the setting of Avila Falls gives glorious Gilmore Girl vibes and the author evokes a mood so palpable, I found myself pondering what to call it for days after. I still haven’t put my finger on the right word to encapsulate the mood, but I do know I loved it.

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June Giveaway

Of course, this month’s giveaway is Chapter One Again!

The winner will be chosen at random and notified via email. If you entered last month’s giveaway and your initials match M.E., please check your inbox. :)

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Writerly News

Friends, I have two exciting bits of news to share this month.

First, speaking of Keelia Clarkson and Wallflower Journal, I am thrilled to announce that I am joining the Wallflower team as Senior Editor!

Not only have I been a subscriber to this lovely online magazine since its inception, I’ve also written for them. I love the ethos, beauty, and literary focus of the publication, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to join their creative force.

Secondly, one of my short stories was a finalist for a contest with Ember & Vine Press and will be published in an anthology to be released in September of 2026!

About the anthology:

From a single spark, a story takes hold.

This short story collection gathers award-winning fiction shaped around moments of ignition—the quiet ember of longing, courage, defiance, or hope that begins small but refuses to go out. Each story explores what happens when that spark is given air: when it grows, entangles, and transforms the lives it touches.

Curated and edited by Julie Cantrell and Janyre Tromp, these stories reflect a wide range of voices and settings, united by their attention to craft and their belief in the power of narrative to reveal truth. Some stories smolder. Others climb. All of them linger.

Together, they form a tapestry of beginnings—proof that even the smallest ember can give rise to something living, reaching, and enduring.

Having words in print is such a milestone as an author, and I couldn’t be more thankful for this incredible opportunity.

If you’ve stuck around for the entirety of this longer post, thank you, friends. Your continued support means more than I can say.

Until next month,

Tiffany