Emily Howitt

This post is for all the other writers out there who are frustrated like crazy. Sorry I probably won’t be able to offer you any solid advice, but maybe my thoughts will offer you some solace, or some nugget of wisdom. I’m having career issues. I’m at a crossroads, and I’ve gone from one road to the other twenty times and back, trying to make sense of what the hell it is I’m supposed to do in this life. I want to write. I know that. I live that. But society tells me I need a real job. No, that’s wrong. Society tells me a need a good job. One that I love. No, that’s wrong too. Society tells me I need a job that makes a lot of money. It doesn’t matter what it is as long as I make lots of the green stuff. Or at least a half decent amount. It doesn’t seem that bad on the surface. Go to uni or college. Get a degree. Get a good job (lots of money). Meet a nice guy or girl. Get married. Have kids. Live happily ever after. It’s not that bad. On the surface. Problem is: ...

So ideally this post should have been put up before Easter, or on Easter, but it wasn't written yet and I'm not waiting until next Easter to post it. My hope is that someone who needs the words will see it and it will speak to them. How do we have hope in the darkest, bleakest times? How do we continue to keep hope alive when all seems lost? When all is dark and gray and falling to ashes around us, when our hopes and dreams disintegrate into dust, when it feels like God himself has left us alone, how do we have hope? How do we press on? How do we keep going when we are weighed down by a weight that we cannot even see? How do we have hope? You just do, some say. Or you just pray hard enough. Like it’s your fault. Cause you’re not praying hard enough. Pray tell, (pun intended), what does “praying hard enough” look like? How is it different from regular prayer? Do people put extra passion into their prayers, so God hears them better? Do you think God cares about extra p...

It took longer than I thought it would, but I recently published a novella called The Neighbour. If you're into suspense or romance, it might just be your cup of tea. Here's the blurb: Life was simple for Alissa. Easy. She had an exit plan from life. Nothing and no one was going to stop her. Her mind was made up. She was done. Except for one problem. The neighbour. The neighbour with the good looks and the bleeding heart. The neighbour who inserted himself into her life like it was nothing. The neighbour who’s determined to save her. But there’s a problem with that. Alissa doesn’t want to be saved. And the neighbour isn’t telling her the whole truth. He has a few secrets of his own. What’s he hiding? Will he be able to save Alissa, or is it him who needs saving? And here's a bit of chapter one to get you hooked ;) Blood was trickling down my arm. Blood was everywhere. Coating me. Bathing me. Turning my blond hair into a gruesome red. A deliciously sweet smile o...

Remember when I said I might write a happier  post in a few days? Well, here it is. You are enough. There are voices in your head that whisper: you are not enough . But you are enough. There are people who say to you, "you are not enough," but you are enough. There are things you think you need to do or be or say to make you enough. To make you have value and worth, but you are enough. Just as you are now, you are enough. You have value and worth now, simply by breathing. You are enough. You may think you’re not enough for life. You just can't do life right. You don't deserve the space you are taking up on this planet and maybe you were one of the people meant to die. But let me tell you, that you are enough. You are not destined to take your life. No one is. People are not made to kill themselves. They are made to live. They are made to love. You have purpose. You are enough. Maybe you don't think you're enough for God. Find a new...

Decided to do the flash fiction challenge from Chuck Wendig's blog. You can check him out at  terribleminds . These are the last words that might ever be written. I warned them that it was coming. I warned the others. But they didn't listen. Why do they never listen? They thought it was a game. They never dreamed the law would past. They thought the club was just for fun. Something to do when they were bored. But they were wrong. So wrong. And now they've "disappeared" and it's just me Ally. It's just the two of us left to fight for the written word. For the truth. I still don't understand how this all came about. I saw it coming, sure, but why? I never saw the "why". Until yesterday. I was walking down the street. Words, written ones, anyway, were nearly eradicated by this point already, but it wasn't illegal. It wasn't a federal offence. People just thought it was archaic. They didn't need to read or write, they j...

Hi. It’s me. I’ve risen from the dead. Again. *sigh* So last year around this time I wrote something about New Year's Resolutions being crap , and about starting a blog challenge  that I only followed through on to day 3.  It’s weird reading it back. It seems like a totally different person. It also seems like I was trying to say resolutions are crap while inadvertently setting resolutions and then not following through on them. In fact, all of 2016 wasn’t too great of a year for blogging. I only posted 18 times, compared to 46 in 2015. I’m also seriously worried about my skills, as I don’t think the posts are that great. But not everything we write is gold, right? And that’s how we get better. We write, and then we keep writing, and then when we think we’re the worst writer on earth, we write some more. And maybe someday it pays off. It’s when we stop writing (or doing other creative things) that we have to worry. I’ve been in a weird space lately. I was feeling ha...

I can’t blog. I’ve been pretending for far too long now. I try to write posts related to my books. Or I try to write a post on a happy, positive topic. But I can’t. I can’t do it. When I try to do it, it comes out forced. I don’t think it’s too horrible. I still think it’s okay. It just doesn’t seem, I hesitate to say great, but it just seems off, you know? Like a part of me is missing. Blogging is hard for me. I never really got a handle on what the hell I’m supposed to blog about. Fiction is easy. Fiction comes straight from my heart and even if I’m not feeling particularly “inspired” I can still get into it pretty easily. But I can’t do that with blogging. That doesn’t work. I think of ideas and then they seem stale when I go to write them, or I can’t think of anything to say. And when the words do flow, when I do get an idea for a post, it’s sad. It’s about depression. It’s unhappy. It’s not related to my books. Nor really. And every post seems to be negative, and I don’t ...