didn’t follow a straight line to children’s book authorship.

She was a theater performer, designer, and tech professional. And finally came motherhood, the role that made all the others make sense: storyteller for the next generation.

In this conversation, Vicki shares how every creative detour shaped her voice, why children’s books need both heart and strategy to succeed, and what happens when you’re brave enough to start over in an industry that doesn’t make it easy.

Highlights

Every creative experience becomes material

Vicky calls herself a “serial creative,” and she means it as a strength, not a scattered identity.

Theater taught her character development. Design gave her visual thinking. Technology showed her interactive possibilities. Motherhood gave her purpose.

“I’m a bit of a serial creative. So I ended up here after I had kids of my own and decided I wanted to start writing books. After a long career of doing all kinds of different creative jobs.”

The creative life isn’t about finding one thing and sticking to it forever. Sometimes it’s about collecting skills until you find the project that needs all of them.

Stories always win with kids

Working at Google on products for children taught Vicky something crucial: no matter how sophisticated the technology, kids respond to character and narrative above everything else.

“In our research we saw how much character and story really engaged kids. So we were trying to help kids learn coding or become familiar with technology. but it always came back to story and character.”

This insight became the foundation of her transition. Technology could teach, but stories could transform. And transformation is what children’s books are really about.

From interaction design to children’s books

Vicky’s path from Google to picture books wasn’t as random as it might seem. Her background in interaction design actually prepared her perfectly for children’s literature. This is how she described her path:

“‘Well, we actually have an interaction design role in our consultancy, and we need to design a game. And since you have game design background, why don’t you come in?’ So I ended up getting into interaction design that way.”

Both fields require understanding user experience, engagement patterns, and how to hold attention. The medium changed, but the core skills transferred beautifully.

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Parenthood changes everything

Having children didn’t just give Vicky new subject matter. It gave her new purpose and a completely different relationship with storytelling.

“And I was having kids of my own. I was reading books to them. And so I just thought, I want to make one of these.”

Sometimes the most profound career pivots happen not in boardrooms or networking events, but in quiet moments reading bedtime stories and realizing you want to be the person creating the magic, not just consuming it.

Every experience feeds the work

What makes Vicky’s approach unique is how she weaves her entire professional history into her storytelling. Theater gave her character development. Design taught her visual thinking. Technology showed her interactive possibilities.

“This is what’s amazing about writing is that it kind of pulls from all of your experiences in life. So I feel like every piece of my life has played some role in the books that I create now.”

The creative career isn’t about finding your one thin. It’s about discovering how all your things work together to create something only you could make.

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Closing Reflection

Vicky’s story proves that creative careers don’t have to follow traditional timelines or predictable paths.

If you’re a creative entrepreneur wondering whether it’s too late to pivot, too risky to start over, or too complicated to combine all your interests into something meaningful, Vicky’s story is your permission slip to try.

Ready to share your creative journey? Drop a comment and tell us about the winding path that led you to your current work.

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Standout Authors Unbound amplifies the voices of underrepresented writers and indie authors to disrupt an industry that rewards conformity over authenticity.

There was a book sitting on ’s shelf for years.

He could see it. He could hold it. He just couldn’t read it.

His father had written his memoir in Chinese. The story of escaping China during the Cultural Revolution on a rowboat. Three years of manual labor in Hong Kong. A decade of clawing his way back to the life he’d built as a physician.

It was all in there. And Henry couldn’t access any of it.

That quiet distance from his own family’s story is where this chat begins. And what Henry did about it is something I think you’ll find yourself thinking about long after you finish listening.

Highlights

The story that almost stayed hidden.

Henry’s father is 84 years old.

He wrote The Day After Winter more than a decade ago. Got a small publishing run done in China. And then life moved on.

Henry grew up knowing the outline of his family’s story. His great-great-grandfather came to America as a coolie and helped build the railroads. His grandparents trained in the US and founded China’s premier eye hospital. His mother became one of the most cited ophthalmologists in the world, close to 700 publications, her own Wikipedia page.

And his father escaped China on a rowboat during the Cultural Revolution with seven people and a plan that almost didn’t happen.

But knowing the outline and knowing the story are two very different things.

“He worked in construction, he worked in restaurants, he did whatever it took to finally scrape enough money to get over, first to Canada, where they reunited and eventually had me.”

The happy ending was always there. What wasn’t there were all the impossible decisions it took to get there.

The gap between translation and storytelling.

When Google Translate got good enough, Henry finally got a rough version of the book in English.

And he realized something.

His father had written around the most important moments. There were brief mentions of all seven siblings, most of whom never appear again. There were gaps where questions should have been answered. Things left out because they felt so obvious to his father that he never thought a reader would need them explained.

“I had to ask questions that his original narrative didn’t address.”

A few of those stories show you the difference between idealistic and realistic.

When his father’s escape was disrupted, one of the seven people had already gone ahead to the meeting point. When the plan fell apart, his father had to make a call.

He left him behind.

Another story: a professor’s family had secretly given his mother money to help buy a boat. They wanted to come along. There was no room.

They left them behind too.

“My father was very matter of fact about it. But these things didn’t surface in the original writing. I had to link the actions to the consequences.”

That’s the work Henry had to do. Not just translate words. Excavate the truth underneath them.

One conversation changed everything.

Here’s something I think a lot of us can relate to.

You know a story needs to change. You know it could be better. But it’s not your story to change.

Henry felt that tension deeply. These were his father’s words. His mother’s memories. Who was he to rewrite any of it?

So he asked.

“I felt nervous about it. I was like, do you mind if I delete this chapter? Do you mind if I change your words? Because it’s your story at the end of the day.”

His father said yes. Immediately. Do whatever you need to do.

“I think that unlocked a lot for me. I felt way more freedom to create something I believed in.”

That one conversation. That’s all it took.

Sometimes the permission we’re waiting for is closer than we think.

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Writing became the channel for questions he couldn’t ask any other way.

Henry took a sabbatical from his job in biotech to finally finish the manuscript.

And something unexpected happened.

The book became a reason to go deeper with his parents than he ever had. To ask things that would have felt too heavy, too intrusive, outside of this context.

Like why his father barely wrote to his mother during the three years they were separated in different countries.

It turned out to be intentional. His father was afraid that if he stayed too connected, she would come back to Hong Kong. He didn’t want to be the reason she gave up her chance.

“I learned so much through the process about the tough decisions they had to make along the way. These are things that could be hard to ask one’s parent or anybody really. You’re resurfacing trauma. But it gave me a channel and an avenue to do so.”

The memoir gave him permission to go to places the conversation alone never could.

He never thought of himself as a writer, until he was.

Henry’s background is Wall Street and biotech. Not exactly the resume you’d expect from someone rewriting a family memoir.

But his parents sent him to writing camp as a kid. His English was strong where theirs wasn’t. He hated it at the time.

Later, he started sneaking writing back into his work life. Monthly updates for his team, always opened with a story. His colleagues weren’t used to it. They kept showing up for it.

“I think what drives a lot of anything really is just great storytelling. When you want to get people moving behind something, whether it be a work initiative or just because they like to read a book, you need good storytelling.”

He never stopped being a writer. He just had to find his way back.

Never give up, but face what’s actually in front of you.

I asked Henry to give me one phrase that captures his father’s story.

He told me about Admiral Stockdale, a POW in Vietnam for seven years. Someone asked Stockdale how he survived. His answer was surprising.

The optimists were the ones who broke. They told themselves they’d be out by Christmas. By Easter. By next year. And when those days came and went, it crushed something in them.

“You have to always believe that you’re going to make it out. But you also have to have the discipline to confront the reality that’s in front of you today.”

That’s his father in a sentence. He never gave up, never pretended away what was hard. He just kept moving through each challenge until he found his way out.

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The Substack that turned into something he didn’t plan for.

Henry started writing on Substack because building a platform is part of the publishing game now. That was the practical reason.

But it became something else.

“I started to realize that this process has been a process of me understanding my parents better. And as a result, understanding how they chose to parent me and understanding myself better as a person. And at the very last, understanding how I want to be a father to my kids.”

He didn’t intend for that. The arc just appeared as he kept writing.

A publisher even suggested his Substack could become a second book. His father’s story first, then Henry’s story of inheriting it, and maybe one day his own children adding their chapter.

“I just found that to be really interesting. I hadn’t thought of it that way previously.”

That’s what writing does. It takes you somewhere you didn’t know you were going.

How do you make your story stand out?

Before finishing the manuscript, Henry read every memoir and nonfiction book he could find about China from the 1930s to the 1990s.

Not to copy anyone but to understand the landscape. To find what was missing.

The pattern he kept seeing: books that felt more like history lessons than stories. Narratives that gave everything equal weight, so nothing actually landed.

“How can you delightfully surprise your readers?”

That’s the question he kept returning to. When you reveal the story, how do you let the cinematic moments breathe instead of rushing past them to get to the next fact?

“The ability to stand out needs to go beyond just the facts of the story itself. It needs to go to how you reveal certain things at certain moments. How you gain the trust of the audience.”

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Closing Reflection

Henry just wants to put something in his father’s hands.

That’s the thing underneath all of it. The querying, the rejections, the platform building, the questions asked late in life that should have been asked sooner.

His father is 84. The publishing process moves slowly. And Henry is not willing to wait.

“My goal is just to get something in his hands. I think it’ll be meaningful for all of us as a family.”

If you’ve got a story like this sitting somewhere, a story that belongs to someone who lived through something extraordinary and never quite got to tell it the way let us know in the comments.

You don’t have to be a writer to start. You just have to go first.

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Standout Authors Unbound amplifies the voices of underrepresented writers and indie authors to disrupt an industry that rewards conformity over authenticity.

What if the history you learned in school was missing most of the story?

discovered this when a publisher approached her to write about influential women. She started researching Latina contributions and kept hitting dead ends.

Stories that should have been everywhere were nowhere to be found.

So Ashley teamed up with to write the book that should have existed all along, The Book of Awesome Latinas, a book that profiles 74 Latinas whose contributions had been buried, erased, or simply never told.

In this conversation, Ashley and Mirtle talk about what it takes to recover lost history, the power of collaboration, and why representation matters.

Highlights

A book born from frustration.

Before the profiles, the research, and the collaboration, there was Ashley hitting wall after wall trying to find Latina stories that should have been everywhere.

“I was getting really frustrated because I couldn’t find a lot of information about Latinas in history books or even online.”

So she started an Instagram page to share what she could find. Then she realized she needed help, real help from someone who knew how to dig up stories and structure them into something readable.

That’s when she reached out to Mirtle, who had newsroom experience and a knack for profiles.

How they found each other.

Ashley knew she needed help take on such a big project so she reached out to Mirtle, a journalist with newsroom experience.

Mirtle’s response? Radio silence.

“I only have one amendment to her story and that’s that I ignored them completely for six months... I did have an e-copy of her book. Did I read the e-copy of her book? I did not.”

Mirtle was drowning in 200-300 emails a day at her journalism job. Ashley’s pitch got buried.

But persistence pays off. Six months later, they connected and discovered they were perfect collaborators. Collaboration unlocked what neither could do alone.

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Structure made the impossible possible.

Mirtle created a repeatable format for each profile: headline impact, origin story, family context, career achievements, and lasting influence.

Having that framework meant they could tackle dozens of stories without getting overwhelmed or losing consistency.

“By asking myself those questions, I can find themes or things... to explore later on.”

Daily reflection questions helped Mirtle spot patterns across the research that became narrative threads connecting the individual stories.

Platform building happens before the book.

The traditional publishing path worked backwards from what most people expect.

“Publishers will find you because you have an audience already, right? It’s like the opposite of what you would expect.”

Ashley’s Instagram page became the proof of concept. The audience came first, then the book deal.

But it’s not just about follower counts:

“Don’t let social media numbers be your only way of thinking that that is the way to build a platform... there are plenty of people who have a lot of followers and their books don’t sell.”

Real community beats vanity metrics every time.

Ashley discussed the importance of building community to sell the book.

“I would rather have 100 people that actually want to interact with me, that actually appreciate what I’m writing, than 100,000 empty likes.”

Instead of chasing follower counts they’re building genuine connections with people who care about the work.

Turn constraints into strategic advantages.

Even though Ashley and Mirtle live across the country from each other, they turned that distance into an advantage.

“She can tackle the Southeast and I can tackle the Pacific Northwest.”

Instead of being limited by distance, their different locations let them build community in multiple regions simultaneously by doubling their reach on opposite sides of the US.

The work is bigger than the book.

What started as frustration with missing history became something deeper: a way to show readers they’re not alone in their struggles.

“We just want anyone who reads this book to feel that one that they carry the strength of their ancestors with them and two that they’re in good company.”

The profiles aren’t just about celebrating individual achievements. They’re about creating connection across time and experience.

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Closing Reflection

Ashley and Mirtle prove that the most important creative work often starts with noticing what’s missing.

They didn’t wait for someone else to write the book they wanted to read. They built a structure that worked, and got it done.

If you think your project is too big, too important, or too overwhelming to tackle alone, this episode is your reminder that collaboration can unlock what individual effort can’t.

What’s your author story? Maybe you’re wrestling with a project that needs a collaborator. Maybe you’ve been ignoring emails from potential partners. Or maybe you’re sitting on stories about representation, recovery, or resistance that need telling.

Drop a comment and share what you’re working on. Your work matters too, and this community is here for it.

What if the thing you think is holding you back actually makes you stand out?

figured that out in first grade.

She read a comic where the villain didn’t need strength or weapons to defeat every superhero in the room. He used words. And something clicked for a kid who felt powerless, out of place, and a little too weird for Wyoming.

“He who controls the words, controls the world.”

She didn’t want to be a super villain. She wanted her voice to direct her life and her stories to open doors. And they did. Over and over again.

In this conversation, Angela, a two-time Bram Stoker Award winner, former president of the Horror Writers Association, editor, publisher, and community builder, talks about what it actually means to own your creative life from the inside out.

Highlights

A letter to the editor changed everything.

Before the awards, the magazine, and the community, there was a simple letter.

Angela wrote to the editor of a publication she genuinely admired, not with a pitch or an ask, but with real, specific appreciation for what they were building.

That letter turned into one of the best writing gigs of her career, leading to interviews with people like Joan Jett and a trajectory she never saw coming.

“I have gotten so many places by just connecting to the person behind the publication and just saying a compliment, a genuine compliment.”

We forget that publishers and editors are writers too. They’re humans who rarely hear thank you. A little genuine connection goes a long way, and Angela’s whole career is proof.

Writing for a newspaper taught her to deal with rejection.

Working in newspapers teaches you something brutal and useful.

You can pour yourself into a story, spend hours crafting something that matters, and watch it get pulled for a tire ad without a second thought.

Angela says that experience wired her differently when it came to rejection in publishing.

“When I get rejected, I don’t really worry about it. It’s just not the right time. Not the right story. It’s not a big deal.”

She didn’t always feel this way. A critique group in high school was so brutal it stopped her from writing poetry for years. Now she has a Bram Stoker for poetry.

The lesson she carries: be careful with other people’s work, and don’t let anyone’s harsh words become the final word on yours.

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Your weird is your work.

Angela was writing Gothic horror the way everyone else wrote Gothic horror.

Then her mentor, Bryan Thao Worra, stopped her cold.

He pointed out that she was mixed Asian, obsessed with tech, and drawn to science fiction. So why was she writing stories about babysitters in haunted houses?

She took his advice and wrote “Vanilla Rice,” a story rooted in her own experience of mixed identity, belonging, and the painful things families pass down. It sold. And she’s sold nearly every story since.

“Once I started putting what I love and what excites me into my work, it just took off. I think that is the key. Putting what makes us different into our work because we’re excited about it, and we pass that excitement on through the story.”

Horror is hopeful.

Angela talks about horror the way most people talk about therapy.

Because in a real sense, that’s what it does. It lets you rehearse the worst. It puts you in the scenario, makes you figure out what you’d do, and sends you out the other side a little less afraid.

There’s science behind it. During COVID, research found that horror fans were among the most emotionally resilient people. They weren’t caught off guard by being locked inside or facing existential uncertainty. They had already practiced.

“Horror is the genre that faces the fear and then tries to show us how to empower ourselves so that we don’t fall prey to that fear.”

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100 people who actually care beats 100,000 who scroll past.

Angela had a post go viral once.

Millions of people saw it. And she sold almost nothing because of it.

Then she built a community, almost by accident, by dropping a few magazine staff members into a platform called Mighty Networks and forgetting about it. When she came back, 80 people had shown up and were talking, supporting each other, buying each other’s books.

“I would rather have 100 people that actually want to interact with me, that actually appreciate what I’m writing, than 100,000 empty likes.”

Social media is designed to farm your attention, not build your audience. The Authortunities she built does something different. It creates trust. And trust is what makes people actually buy.

Creation is sacred. Even when it’s messy.

Angela describes being a creator not as a job or a hobby, but as a state of being.

Her upcoming book, Art Not Arson, grew from a 52-week Substack series about the creative journey. The idea is simple and deep at the same time: we are going to create no matter what. The question is whether we build something or burn something down with that energy.

“We can build a bridge or burn the bridge, but we’re going to do something by the act of being human.”

Every creative person she’s met is proof. The drive doesn’t go away. It just needs somewhere to go.

We control our own destiny.

Angela has an eighth grade education. She left school twice. She’s been told she couldn’t do things because of her gender, her background, her degree, her age.

But she’s on her third bucket list.

Her message isn’t that the path is easy. It’s that the path is yours.

“I’ve constantly had people tell me why I couldn’t do something. And I have done everything that I wanted to do.”

What we call “I can’t” is almost always “I’m choosing not to.” As uncomfortable as that may sound, it’s also liberating. It means we have the ability to make our own choices.

When we stop waiting for permission, we realize we were holding the key the whole time.

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Closing Reflection

Angela is proof that a weird kid from Wyoming with an eighth grade education and a love of monsters can become an award-winning author, a magazine publisher, a community builder, and a voice worth listening to.

She didn’t do it by being like everyone else. She did it by leaning into exactly who she is.

If you’re sitting on a story, a quirk, a weird obsession, or a genre that people raise their eyebrows at, this episode is your sign to keep going.

And if you’re an author with a story to share, leave a comment and tell us about your work. You deserve the spotlight too.

Thank you , , , and many others for tuning into my live video with !

What if the genre you dismissed as too dark was actually the most honest thing you could read?

Lee Murray has spent twenty years writing horror from the edge of the world. She’s won five Bram Stoker Awards, a New Zealand Prime Minister Award for Literary Achievement, and a medal from the King.

And she’ll be the first to tell you she’s barely making grocery money. That gap between recognition and reward is just one of the things Lee is refreshingly honest about in this conversation.

She also talks about what it really means to put yourself in a story, why horror is one of the most grown-up genres out there, and how building community from the bottom of the world changed everything for her.

Highlights

“Write what you know” means something deeper than you think.

Most writers hear that phrase and think about surface-level experience. When she was starting out, Lee did too.

She wrote about marathon running because she had run 25 of them. She knew the material. But something was still missing.

It wasn’t until she started writing from her identity as an Asian woman in a Western country, about her experience with depression and anxiety, and the tension between cultures she carries every day, that her writing found its real power.

“What I think they mean when they say put yourself in this story is you need to write the story that only you can write. You need to write the things that resonate for you, that make you frightened, that make you feel something. You need to put those things into the story.”

That kind of vulnerability is harder than craft. And it takes longer to find. But when you do, readers feel it.

Horror is the most grown-up genre in the room.

There is a particular kind of prejudice that follows horror writers around.

People assume it’s B-grade, gratuitous, not serious literature.

Lee pushes back on that because horror is where we go to face the things we can’t say out loud: losing control, shame, the unknown. All the parts of the human experience that we aren’t supposed to talk about.

“Fear is the most primal feeling. What frightens us, what worries us, what gives us the chills — exploring that is a universal thing because we all are afraid of something. And it drives our behavior.”

Monsters, she explains, are almost always metaphors. For trauma. For oppression. For the generational weight we carry without even realizing it. Horror allows us to hold those things up and examine them.

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Everyone has their own process.

Lee describes herself as a slow writer. She does not do vomit drafts. She can’t turn off her editor brain long enough to just get words on the page.

For a long time, that felt like a flaw but now she sees it differently.

“I tend to kind of have an idea, kind of know where it’s going, and then I kind of write it... I’ll write a sentence and I’ll go back and revise the sentence and then I’ll write the next sentence. That makes me a slow writer. But at the end of the day, I tend to find that I don’t change too much.”

She has no stories on the backburner. Nothing is abandoned. Everything she has written has found its place.

Find the gap that only you can fill.

Lee did not set out to create a niche. She just started writing the stories she wanted to read and could not find anywhere else: horror thrillers set in the New Zealand bush, feminist Asian horror, stories about mental illness.

“Sometimes it’s a good idea to look for the gap. Where is the gap that you can fill that only you can tell that story? Your story.”

And once she found that space, she did something most people won’t do — she invited others in. She believes you don’t need to protect your niche because there’s more than enough room for everyone.

When you bring more writers into the space you helped create, the whole genre grows.

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Survive and thrive through community.

Publishing from New Zealand is difficult because the industry mostly looks the other way. Traditional publishers are largely absent and literary agents are almost nonexistent. Shipping a $12 book to New Zealand costs $35.

And yet Lee has built something that spans the globe and she did it by showing up.

Through anthologies that built readerships around shared ideas. Through mentorship that she gives and receives. And through joining every writing group she believes in.

“If you want something to happen, you need to step up and do it.”

That lesson came from her parents, who ran school committees and sports clubs because they wanted to see those things exist. Lee brought the same energy to horror. And horror gave her a tribe in return.

Success means something different for everyone.

Lee is not a millionaire bestseller, but she also doesn’t aim to be one.

Instead she has a community she loves, a genre she is proud of, and a body of work that has earned some of the highest honors in the field.

“Once you’ve defined what is successful to you, what would successful look like, then you can step forward and say, how am I going to get there?”

That question is worth asking because the answer changes everything. The path to a bestselling series looks nothing like the path to a life built around craft, community, and meaning. There is no “right” path, only the path you choose to take.

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Closing Reflection

Lee Murray reminds us that horror is not a guilty pleasure. It is literature doing serious work in a world that needs it.

Her journey shows what happens when a writer stops acting the part and starts putting the real, complicated, vulnerable parts of themselves on the page.

If you are an author who writes stories that feel too personal, too niche, or too strange for the mainstream, we want to hear from you.

Leave a comment and tell us about your work. You deserve the spotlight too.

Standout Authors Unbound amplifies the voices of underrepresented writers and indie authors to disrupt an industry that rewards conformity over authenticity.

What if the life you’ve already lived was the most compelling story you could ever tell?

has performed in 42 countries. She’s lost a husband, raised two sons, cleaned houses when times got hard, earned a master’s in mental health at 50, and built an anthem for Latina women almost by accident.

And she wrote all of it down.

Her memoir, Embracing Life: One Stage at a Time, is exactly what the title promises: a life lived in stages, each one teaching something the next one needed.

In this conversation, Adela shares what compelled her to finally write her story, what the music world never tells you, and why she believes sharing is the most powerful act of change there is.

Highlights

Your family doesn’t know your story. Neither does the world.

Adela grew up in Gary, Indiana. At 19, she married a jazz musician and moved to New York City. And once she left, she rarely went back.

“Nobody really understands me when I go back home. They think that it’s a glamorous thing. Yeah, it could be glamorous, but usually musicians don’t have houses or cars. We’re usually trying to work and usually that money is for you to live on.”

That gap between how a creative life looks from the outside and what it actually costs on the inside is exactly why she wrote her book.

Her family knew she was a singer. They didn’t know the rest.

The show must go on. Until you decide it doesn’t have to.

After losing her first husband, Adela did what she had always done.

She pushed herself from the back burner to the front.

She kept working. She raised her boys. She put them through college. She kept singing.

And then, at 60, she thought she was done performing.

Then Cuba called.

“When I got back from Cuba, I felt that my life had gone full circle. A little bit of publicity, people start calling you again. Before you know it, you’re singing again, you’re working again.”

For Adela, the ending she thought she’d written was really just another stage.

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The writing life isn’t glamorous either. But it’s worth it.

Adela is candid about what putting a book together actually looks like.

Late nights. Three a.m. bursts of momentum. A head that felt like it was going to explode. A Spanish translation that took just as much out of her as the original.

“A book is, my God, it’s so much work. I mean, it was two years of pretty much intense work because you’re trying to meet your deadline, you’re trying to keep going because if you stop, a month might go by before you get that energy rolling again.”

She also learned the hard way not to delegate her own story.

“You own your book. You own your story. You own your life. Before you send it out, you should go through it again and again.”

Inspiration doesn’t wait for the right moment.

One of my favorite parts of this conversation is when Adela talks about where songs come from.

A patch of water outside a hotel window in Japan became a song about a girl crying on the beach in Ipanema. A morning spent looking at the sun became a new track. An anthem for Latinas in business came to her three days before the gig.

“Those inspirations, they flow. They flow through you. You might come up with a verse or two verses or just a hook. You already have a form, you have an idea.”

The lesson she keeps returning to: write it down. Whatever it is. Before it disappears.

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Role models change everything.

Long before the memoir, Adela started a website called MujeresLatinas.com. She wrote short profiles of Latina heroines. She created a workbook for young girls. She mentored.

All of it came from a single statistic she read in the New York Times about dropout rates among Latinos.

“I said, how embarrassing. I have to do my thing. I have to help. I don’t have daughters. I’m just going to treat them all like daughters.”

She wanted young Latinas to see themselves in someone who had already done hard things. Because she never had that.

“If you have somebody that looks like you, it’s easier to follow. You believe in them more because you feel that you’re closer. So you have a chance also.”

Sharing can create change.

At the end of the conversation, I asked Adela what she most wants readers to take away from her book.

Her answer is immediate.

“Sharing is the most important thing in life. Sharing can create change. That’s what I say on my website. It’s because they’re not getting the information that would stimulate them. So we have to share this.”

Seven decades of stories. Forty-two countries. One stage at a time.

And she’s still building.

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Closing Reflection

Adela doesn’t talk about her life like someone summarizing a resume.

She talks about it like someone who has actually lived it fully, messily, and on purpose.

The most surprising insight was how much life gets compressed into silence: the the years nobody asks about and the sacrifices people assume aren’t there because the performer showed up and smiled.

Writing is how Adela closes that gap.

If you have your own author journey to share, leave a comment and tell us what resonated most.

Thank you , , , and many others for tuning into my live video with !

spent years on stage singing, dancing, journaling on tour with the Trans-Siberian Orchestra and RENT before she ever called herself a children’s book author. She taught Theatre Arts, raised two kids, and kept writing in the in-between moments and small pockets of time that most people would let go to waste.

Steena’s debut picture book, Lupita’s Brown Ballet Slippers, is about a young Latina girl whose peachy pink slippers don’t match her skin before her recital. It’s a story rooted in her own childhood dancing in Texas.

Steena is a member of the Las Musas Latinx collective, a Northern Lights Book Award winner, and a homeschooling mom. She writes about the long, unglamorous work of not giving up on her Substack, Pencil & Persistence.

This is a conversation about what it takes to believe your story is worth telling and what happens when you finally do.

Origins and Inspiration

Before you were a published author, you were a performer who toured with the Trans-Siberian Orchestra and RENT. What were you writing about back then and when did you first realize those pages might become something bigger?

As you mentioned above, I was journaling while on tour as a vocalist with the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. At the time, I’m not sure I realized I was a writer—but I was already writing, capturing the emotions and experiences of life on the road.

It wasn’t until I became a mother that I discovered picture books at my local library. I checked out stack after stack to read to my children. Somewhere in the mix of reading, acting out the stories for them, and not-so-secretly falling in love with reading alongside them, I realized I wanted to try writing a story of my own.

I quickly started researching and eventually found SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators), where I joined my first critique group. From there, I was off and running—determined to learn how to craft a picture book and, eventually, how to become published.

Who were the books or authors that made you feel seen as a kid and how does that absence or presence show up in the stories you feel called to write now?

I was a bit of a late-bloomer when it came to reading. I really didn’t discover books in a meaningful way until later in life. But the first book that truly made me feel seen—like the story was written just for me in some way—was The House on Mango Street. There was something about the voice and the honesty in those pages that stayed with me.

Because I came to books later, I think it shapes the kinds of stories I feel called to write now. I want kids to feel that spark earlier than I did—to open a book and feel like it understands them, or that their story matters too.

Craft and Writing Life

Your Substack is called Pencil & Persistence. What does persistence actually look like on the hardest days? And what do you wish someone had told you during the toughest stretch of querying?

Persistence, for me, doesn’t always look like writing thousands of words or sending out a batch of queries. On the hardest days, it’s much smaller than that. Sometimes it’s just jotting a few notes in my phone before bed, messaging a writing friend to ask how their revisions are going, or rereading a passage that once made me believe in the story again.

I’m still in the querying trenches, and it’s not easy. That’s actually one of the reasons I started Pencil & Persistence—to create a space that uplifts writers who are walking this same long road toward publication. Because persistence isn’t always loud or impressive. Often it’s quiet. It’s choosing not to quit today.

What I wish someone had told me during the toughest stretch of querying is that the waiting can feel really personal—but it isn’t a measure of your worth or your writing. This process is slow, subjective, and so much of it happens behind the scenes.

So on my hardest days, persistence simply means this: I’m still here. And tomorrow, I’ll pick up the pencil again. ✏️💛

You’ve been hosting virtual classroom visits for young readers. What happens on the other side of that screen when a child encounters Lupita for the first time?

Oh, I love school visits! They’ve been one of the highlights of my author journey. It’s such a joy to share Lupita’s story with young readers, and seeing their faces light up with curiosity is the best part. Even through a screen, we get to read the story together, talk about rejection and how to keep moving forward, and even dance to music.

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Representation and Identity

As a Mexican American author writing for children, did you ever feel pressured to make it feel more universal?

I did wonder about that at times. But the truth is, the heart of the story—the feelings of dreaming big, facing rejection, and finding the courage to keep going—is what connects with readers. Lupita’s Mexican American identity is part of who she is, and I didn’t want to smooth that out to make it feel broader. In my experience, the more specific and true a story is, the more readers can see themselves in it.

Lupita’s story centers on having slippers that don’t match her skin. Where did that idea come from and what did it feel like to finally see it on the page?

The idea for Lupita’s mismatched slippers actually comes from my own life in dance. I started tap, jazz, and ballet at three, and performance was such a huge part of my world all the way through college, where I ended up majoring in music, theatre, and dance. I remember noticing, even as a little kid, how shoes, tights, and costumes were almost always one shade—never quite matching my own skin. It stayed with me.

Seeing that idea come to life on the page with Lupita was so meaningful. It felt like finally giving a small but important part of myself—and all the kids who might have felt the same way—a place to be seen and celebrated.

How does your performing background, teaching experience, culture, and motherhood find their way into how you write for kids?

Everything I’ve done—performing, teaching, my culture, being a mom—shows up in how I write for kids. Dance and theatre taught me about rhythm and movement, so I think about how a story flows and how words feel when you read them out loud. Teaching and motherhood give me a window into how kids see the world—the little joys, the worries, the things that make them laugh. And my Mexican-American culture is in the heart of my stories, in the details and traditions that shape how my characters live and see themselves.

Seeing your story interpreted by an illustrator for the first time is a moment most authors never forget. What was it like to see Melissa Castillo bring Lupita to life, and did it match what you had imagined?

Seeing Melissa Castillo bring Lupita to life was everything I hoped for and more. She got her spirit exactly right, and then added details I hadn’t even imagined. That moment—seeing a character I’d carried in my head for so long fully realized on the page—was unforgettable.

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Looking Forward

You are involved in many communities like Las Musas and SCBWI. What has belonging to those spaces meant to you, especially during times when the writing felt hard?

Community has been everything for me. Leaning on writing friends, whether through Las Musas or other spaces, keeps me going on the days when writing feels hard. Just hearing their encouragement, their kind words about my work, or knowing they’re struggling too, reminds me that I’m not doing this alone. Those connections make the ups and downs of writing feel manageable and even joyful, and they’re a huge part of why I keep showing up to the page.

What’s the story you’re most afraid to write and are you writing it anyway?

The story I wrote—my middle grade novel—was one I was scared to write, but I went for it anyway. It’s loosely based on my upbringing and a difficult part of my childhood. I didn’t realize at the time how much that experience had shaped me, and writing about it has been both hard and healing.

What are you working on next?

Right now, I’m revising several picture books and even revisiting old manuscripts that had been tucked away in a drawer for years. It feels really good to breathe new life into those stories and see where they might go next.

Closing Reflections

Who are the authors in your circle who deserve a little more of the spotlight?

Honestly, I have so many writing friends who deserve more spotlight—it’s impossible to choose! In my head, all of my critique partners are already winning awards and charming readers everywhere. Their talent, hard work, and support inspire me every day, and I feel lucky just to get to cheer them on.

And last question. If standing out isn’t about shouting louder, what does it look like for you?

You don’t stand out by shouting—you stand out by showing up, staying true, and letting your story shine.

Steena’s work reminds us that showing up quietly is still showing up. She didn’t find books early. She didn’t have a clear path. She had a journal on a tour bus, a stack of picture books from the library, and two kids watching her fall in love with stories all over again.

That’s where Lupita came from. A feeling she’d carried since she was three years old, noticing that her shoes never quite matched her skin.

This is exactly why I started Standout Authors Unbound. To make room for writers like Steena. Writers who are still in the querying trenches, still revising old manuscripts pulled from drawers, still choosing not to quit.

If you’re a writer with a story to tell, or know someone who is, I’d love to hear from you. Share this piece, leave a comment, or reach out directly. The next story we celebrate could be yours.

Standout Authors Unbound amplifies the voices of underrepresented writers and indie authors to disrupt an industry that rewards conformity over authenticity.

What if the stories you grew up with weren’t just coping mechanisms but catalysts too?

didn’t call herself a self-care alchemist because it sounded cute on Instagram.

She earned that title the hard way.

Through a diagnosis that forced her to stop.

Through toxic relationships that slowly trained her to accept crumbs instead of nourishment.

Through the uncomfortable realization that she was pouring herself into everyone else and running on empty herself.

In this conversation, Samantha shares how self-care led to boundaries. And how writing her book No More Crumbs became the vehicle that transformed her pain into purpose.

Highlights

Self-care is a strategic act of self-reinvention

For Samantha, self-care wasn’t a luxury. It was survival.

“When I got the diagnosis, I recognized and realized that I wasn’t taking care of myself. I was not centering myself and putting the care that I was putting in other people and other... I needed to start focusing on myself.”

She realized she had mastered showing up for others while abandoning herself. And many of us do the same thing without even noticing.

Self-care, in her world, is not reactive. It’s proactive. It’s a strategic decision to rebuild your life from the inside out.

Boundaries are the beginning of self-trust

Toxic relationships don’t usually announce themselves loudly. They creep in slowly. They normalize small compromises. They condition you to accept less than you deserve.

Samantha talks openly about how reconnecting with herself changed everything.

“I have now learned how to reconnect with my body, reconnect with my internal knowing and discernment system. And now that I’m able to do that, if it doesn’t light me up, if it’s not a heck yeah, let me go ahead and do this because this makes me feel really good.”

Filling your cup isn’t selfish. It’s sustainable.

We live in a culture obsessed with output.

Samantha reframes the entire conversation.

“I always say you gotta fill your cup up to the brim until it’s overflowing and only give from the overflow because that way you have enough energy for yourself so that the overflow is a space where the extra lives and where you could help others as well.”

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It’s about the journey. Always.

We talk a lot about outcomes.

Book deals. Sales numbers. Milestones.

But Samantha grounds the conversation in something deeper.

“It’s about the journey, right? Because you mentioned experimenting, but it’s also about the experience that you’re having along the way, the people you meet along the way.”

Cultivating trust in oneself as the core of effective change

At some point, growth stops being about tactics and starts being about trust.

Not trusting the algorithm.
Not trusting the loudest voice in the room.
Not trusting what everyone else says you “should” do next.

But trusting yourself.

“Trusting yourself minimizes reliance on external voices, fostering resilience, authentic identity, and the courage to make bold life changes.”

That kind of trust doesn’t appear overnight, and once you develop it, everything shifts because when you trust yourself, you stop outsourcing your life.

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Closing Reflection

Samantha reminds us that self-care isn’t cosmetic.

It’s courageous.

It’s the decision to stop accepting crumbs.

It’s the willingness to look at your patterns honestly.

It’s the daily act of choosing yourself, even when it feels unfamiliar.

If you have your own author journey share, leave a comment and tell me what about your project.

Thank you , , and many others for tuning into my live video with !

Standout Authors Unbound amplifies the voices of underrepresented writers and indie authors to disrupt an industry that rewards conformity over authenticity.

What if the stories you grew up with weren’t just memories… but blueprints?

didn’t become a children’s book author by accident.

Her journey is rooted in family, culture, food, and the kind of storytelling that gets passed down long before it ever gets published.

In this conversation, Alyssa shares how her grandmother shaped her imagination, why writing for children is more complex than most people realize, and what it really takes to survive the publishing industry when rejection is basically part of the job description.

Highlights

Rejection is a part of the path.

Alyssa is honest about how brutal publishing can be.

The rejections come fast, often without explanation, and it can start to feel like the industry is asking you to prove your worth over and over again.

But she reframes it completely.

“Great work often emerges from navigating rejection, not avoiding it.”

Her story is proof that persistence matters more than perfection.

Sometimes the only difference between the author who makes it and the author who quits is one of them keeps going.

Writing for children means writing for more than children

Children’s books may look simple on the surface but Alyssa explains how layered they really are.

Because you’re not just speaking to kids. You’re also speaking to parents, educators, librarians, and entire communities deciding what stories belong on shelves.

“Writing for children requires balancing multiple audiences simultaneously—kids, parents, educators—and aligning themes that resonate across these groups.”

That kind of storytelling takes clarity, a theme strong enough to hold everyone, and a message simple enough for a child but deep enough for the adult reading it too.

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Cultural representation is legacy.

Alyssa’s books celebrate food, culture, and identity.

She reminds us that storytelling is one of the most powerful ways families pass down pride, memory, and belonging.

“Materials like books and storytelling serve as cultural legacy vessels, passing down identity, pride, and shared history across generations.”

These stories are proof that kids deserve to see their world reflected back at them with care.

Timing matters more than we want to admit

One of the most honest parts of this conversation is Alyssa’s reflection on opportunity.

“The timing of opportunities can be as influential as effort or skill—industry shifts often respond to societal reckonings and momentary cultural openness.”

Her success after the George Floyd reckoning revealed something uncomfortable but real: Sometimes the world becomes ready for stories it previously ignored.

The goal is to stay prepared so when the window opens, you’re ready.

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Community is everything.

Alyssa pushes back against the myth of the lone author.

She talks about how much authors need each other.

To share resources. To amplify each other’s work. To remind each other that this life is hard… but not meant to be lonely.

“Community and collaboration amplify impact; diversifying inputs and supporting others creates a feedback loop that accelerates growth and visibility.”

Publishing can isolate you. Community brings you back.

Purpose creates staying power

At the heart of Alyssa’s work is alignment, representation, storytelling integrity, and books that mean something.

“Sustained impact and fulfillment originate from aligning your work with core values like representation, storytelling integrity, and social purpose.”

Success is great but purpose is what lasts.

And Alyssa’s stories are built to last.

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Closing Reflection

Alyssa reminds us that children’s literature is never “just for kids.”

It’s culture. It’s memory. It’s legacy in picture-book form.

Her journey shows what happens when you keep writing through rejection, stay rooted in your values, and surround yourself with people who understand the work.

If you are an author who has a story to share, leave a comment and tell us about your work because you deserve the spotlight too.

Thank you , , , and many others for tuning into my live video with !

What if the version of you who started writing fan fiction late at night was already training for the career you’re living now?

Romance author Anna P.’s writing journey didn’t begin with a polished manuscript or a clear five-year plan. It started with curiosity, role-playing boards, and fan fiction written for the joy of it, long before she gave herself permission to call herself an author.

In this conversation, Anna shares how growing up in a family rooted in journalism shaped her love of storytelling, how she moved from aspiring journalist to fiction writer, and how confidence is often built quietly, project by project, long before success looks official.

Highlights

Writing what you love is non-negotiable

Anna doesn’t treat passion as a bonus. For her, it’s the foundation. She’s clear that enjoyment isn’t optional when you’re committing months or years to a story and then asking yourself to show up for it again during marketing.

“Write something that genuinely makes you happy, because readers are going to know that you’re faking it.”

Representation starts with honesty

Anna’s debut novel was about seeing herself on the page and offering that reflection to readers who rarely get it. Writing characters that felt real, flawed, and familiar became an act of visibility, not just creativity.

“I wanted to put myself… I wanted to talk about someone like me who had all of these, you know, these flaws and these imperfections.”

Your first negative review is a milestone, not a failure

Instead of fearing criticism, Anna reframes it as proof that your work is reaching real people. Courses and workshops helped her build resilience and feedback became information.

“Your first negative review is a true sign that you have arrived.”

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Marketing works better when it’s personal

Anna is honest about how strange marketing can feel, especially for writers who would rather stay behind the scenes. What helped wasn’t louder promotion, but quieter connection.

“When people message you or connect with you, you’re not selling your book, you’re selling yourself because you’re connecting that personal relationship.”

Persistence builds momentum

There’s no romantic version of consistency here. Anna talks about writing wherever she can, however she can, without waiting for ideal conditions.

“The challenge is to just sit down and write, whether it’s on your phone or your computer or whatever, just sit down and write, see what happens.”

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Closing reflection

Anna’s journey is a reminder that confidence is often built in private, long before anyone is watching. Through fan fiction, early drafts, awkward marketing experiments, and critical feedback, she kept showing up.

If you’re an author who started quietly, doubts the marketing side, or wonders whether your voice is “enough,” this conversation is for you.

Share your journey in the comments. Someone further behind might be waiting to see it.

is a children’s author and educator with over 17 years in the classroom, creating stories that celebrate Latin culture, bilingual identity, and the power of language. Her work is rooted in honoring the stories she wished she’d seen growing up and reminding children that their culture belongs at the center of the page.

Through her platform, Sylvia lifts up diverse picture books, highlights Latine authors, and builds resources for educators and families who want children to feel seen, supported, and proud of who they are.

Origins and Inspiration

You’ve said you’re writing the stories you wish you’d had growing up. How did your bicultural upbringing shape that realization and how did that same part of you show up most vulnerably in your upcoming book?

Growing up in Texas near the U.S.–Mexico border, people often assumed I was Mexican. That was never something that offended me, but as a child, I felt a strong desire for people to know that my roots extended further south. I was proud to be Central and South American. At home, my mom cooked Salvadoran food, my dad played Ecuadorian music, and my Spanish reflected both worlds. From an early age, I was constantly navigating multiple cultures and identities.

That experience made me realize how rarely I saw books that reflected that kind of complexity. Most stories didn’t leave room for kids like me, kids who didn’t fit neatly into one box. Writing the stories I wish I’d had growing up means returning to those early feelings of wanting to be fully seen, and that’s where the vulnerability comes in.

In my upcoming book, I Am From Aquí and Allá, that part of me shows up through small, everyday moments—language, food, music—and through the message that we don’t have to belong less to one culture in order to claim another. We can be fully both, and I wanted to create the kind of story that affirms that truth.

The Classroom Behind the Stories

You’ve spent over 17 years in the classroom. How did that experience influence the kinds of stories you feel called to write now?

Spending over 17 years in the classroom showed me the power of books to spark curiosity, conversation, and connection. As an elementary ESL teacher, I saw how deeply students respond when they recognize their own culture on the page. I could tell they were eager to share their own stories with their peers. That became especially clear when I organized a Multicultural Night at my school and watched students confidently celebrate where they came from. Those experiences helped me see that representation matters, and it’s what motivates me to write stories centered on cultural foods, music, and traditions that affirm identity and belonging.

When you imagine your students reading your work one day, what do you hope they recognize in themselves?

I hope they recognize that they can be proud of where they come from and that their identity is unique and special, even when it’s shaped by two or three cultures. For Latino students in particular, I hope they see a celebration of community, reflected in our shared language, foods, and traditions. Most of all, I want them to feel confident being bicultural and empowered to share their own stories.

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Craft, Picture Books, and Community

You share and recommend a lot of picture books from diverse and Latine authors. What makes a picture book stand out to you as something that truly matters?

Picture books that center cultural identity and self-love stand out to me because they validate experiences that were absent from my own childhood. I often think about how powerful it would have been to see myself reflected on the page and how that sense of being seen might have shaped my confidence and relationships in school. When children recognize their own lives and cultures in a book, it sends a clear message: their stories matter, their voices are important, and they belong.

How do you balance lifting up other authors’ voices while also making space for your own creative work?

When I started writing my first draft of I Am From Aqui and Alla, I didn’t fully understand how much work goes into this process or how supportive the kid lit community can be. Being on the other side of it now has given me a whole new appreciation for children’s book authors/illustrators and the vulnerability it takes to put a story out into the world. I try to lift up other writers by sharing and celebrating their work because I know how much that visibility matters. At the same time, I’ve learned that making space for my own creative work is important too. For me, it’s not about choosing one or the other, but about contributing to a community where we’re all supporting each other while continuing to write the stories only we can tell.

Representation and Lifting Up Voices

You’re on a mission to “lift up OUR voices.” What does that phrase mean to you personally?

“Lifting up OUR voices” means challenging the gaps in representation that still exist in children’s literature and working together to change it. As an ESL teacher, I encourage students to believe their voices matter, yet I often struggled to find picture books that reflected their cultures and languages.

Those gaps made it clear that progress has been limited, and realizing that has pushed me to advocate more intentionally. Lifting up OUR voices now means supporting Latine creators, pushing for greater visibility in publishing spaces, and contributing my own stories as part of a collective effort to ensure our voices are seen and valued.

From your perspective, what progress feels most meaningful right now in Latine children’s literature and where do you still see important gaps?

One of the most meaningful signs of progress right now is seeing more Latine creators and more Latine stories being published. What really stands out to me is when authors and publishers are intentional about moving beyond stereotypes and telling nuanced stories that reflect the true diversity of our communities, especially stories from Central and South America.

At the same time, there are still important gaps. Many Latine books are hard to find in mainstream bookstores, school book fairs, and classrooms, and certain cultures and experiences remain underrepresented. I’ve often discovered more diverse voices through social media rather than traditional spaces. Another area I still don’t see enough of is bicultural identity, which is something I hope to contribute with my upcoming book

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Your Upcoming Book

At its heart, what do you hope children, and the adults reading with them, walk away feeling after experiencing your new book?

At its heart, I hope I Am From Aquí and Allá leaves both children and the adults reading with them feeling proud of who they are and where they come from. I want the book to be a celebration of biculturalism, especially for those who have felt like they’re not “enough” of one or the other. I’m proudly American, and I’m also fully Salvadoran and Ecuadorian. I hope readers see that wholeness reflected on the page. Ultimately, I want the story to celebrate both our shared connections and the unique flavors, rhythms, and traditions that make each culture special.

Looking Forward

As you move closer to publishing your debut book, how has your relationship with your own voice changed?

My relationship with my voice has grown stronger. I used to talk myself out of sharing my ideas because of fear and self-doubt, and I didn’t believe my words really mattered. I was hesitant to share early drafts, but this journey has taught me to do it anyway, even when I’m scared.

Along the way, I’ve realized this story isn’t just for me, it’s for bicultural kids who deserve to see themselves reflected. Finding a supportive community of writers has also made a huge difference. Learning from and connecting with other authors has helped me trust my voice more and feel more confident telling my story.

What excites you most about this next chapter as an author, educator, and advocate?

I’m excited to continue learning and building community. I love connecting with authors and educators, and I get especially excited when I discover a new Latine author or illustrator and can share their work with teachers and families who are looking for culturally meaningful books. Through my platform, @storiesbysylviagallardo, I enjoy highlighting incredible Latine creators whose stories deserve to be in classrooms and homes. I’m also really excited to have a Spanish version of my upcoming book and to keep growing as a writer along the way.

Closing Reflections

Who are the authors in your circle who deserve a little more of the spotlight?

Lisa Cortez is a Speech Language Pathologist who wrote The Adventures of Marie and Leela. Her book is in English and Spanish. I feel a lot of students who are receiving speech services can benefit from a bilingual book that helps them with sounds in both languages. Follow her @theadventuresofmarieandlee

Josefina Cabello is a Spanish teacher and author. She wrote, A Veces en Ingles, a Veces en Espanol. A story I would have wanted as a child and one that resonates with many bilingual children. Join her characters as they go on adventures listening to both languages. Follow her @mrscabellosc

Evelyne Perez is from my hometown, El Paso, Tx, and she wrote Brown y Brillante as well as Autism: A New Friend and Buds Vs Bullies. Follow her at @evelynetheauthor.

And last question. If standing out isn’t about being louder, what does it look like for you?

For me, standing out isn’t about being louder. As a Latina educator and advocate for multilingual learners, it’s about being intentional. It’s about making sure my students feel seen, valued, and proud of who they are. Their bilingualism and biculturalism aren’t things to downplay, they’re strengths that deserve to be celebrated.

As an author, standing out means sharing my story and honoring the diversity within the Latine community. We’re often grouped into one box, but our experiences, cultures, and identities are so much more layered than that. I believe our stories are best told by us, because we’re the ones living them every day.

Sylvia’s work reminds us that stories should be affirming. Her love of picture books, her years in the classroom, and her commitment to lifting up Latine voices all come together in a body of work that helps children feel seen in their language, their culture, and themselves.

This is exactly why I started Standout Authors Unbound. To create space for writers like Sylvia. Writers who are building community through story, honoring lived experience, and expanding what belonging looks like on the page.

If you’re writing from a place of identity or cultural truth, or know someone who is, I’d love to hear from you. Share this piece, leave a comment, or reach out.

Standout Authors Unbound amplifies the voices of underrepresented writers and indie authors to disrupt an industry that rewards conformity over authenticity.

What if writing the story you’re afraid to tell is the exactly what your readers have been waiting for?

Leigh Carron, author of Fat Girl and other body positive romance novels, didn’t set out to follow trends, chase algorithms, or fit neatly into what the publishing world expects. She set out to tell her truth. And in doing so, she’s built stories centered on body diversity, biracial identity, desire, and authenticity, even when it felt risky or uncomfortable.

In this conversation, Leigh opens up about choosing self-publishing, navigating imposter syndrome, writing spicy romance that centers fat and marginalized bodies, and learning how to market without losing herself in the process.

Highlights

Diversity in writing as lived experience

For Leigh, diversity is personal. Her stories are shaped by who she is and who her readers are, and she writes with the intention of reflecting real bodies and real identities on the page.

“I write spicy, diverse, body positive romance. That’s sort of my niche, my brand, and I love doing that, bringing body diversity and racial diversity to my stories. I want them to reflect me and the people that read my books.”

Empowerment through characters who take up space

Leigh is intentional about who gets centered in her stories. Her characters aren’t there to support someone else’s arc. They get to be seen, desired, and fully human.

“I want to show fat characters being loved on, being desired, feeling good about themselves, not being the side characters in stories, but being their own leads.”

Choosing the indie path without a roadmap

Traditional publishing wasn’t the only option, and Leigh chose to take the leap without having everything figured out. What mattered more was resonance and momentum.

“I decided I’ll just venture out into this wild world of indie publishing. And I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, but… it sort of resonated.”

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Marketing as an ongoing experiment

Marketing isn’t something you master once and move on from. Leigh talks honestly about the trial-and-error nature of showing up, learning, and staying curious without burning out.

“You have to be your own marketer and you have to figure that out... I’m still learning those things. Why do some posts hit? Why do some books resonate and others don’t?”

Writing authentically even when it feels risky

Chasing trends might feel safer, but Leigh chose alignment instead. That decision comes with risk, but it also comes with clarity.

“I have stayed true to what I want to tell and haven’t followed what’s popular in tropes, and I know that can also be a risk.”

Writing through cultural and racial identity

Leigh shares how early experiences shaped her understanding of identity and belonging, and how those experiences continue to influence her storytelling today.

“I learned very quickly that being biracial was not a good thing then. Like that was not something to be proud of. That was something to be worried about and to fear what people would think.”

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Balancing creativity with real life

Writing doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Leigh balances her creative work with a demanding professional career, and some days are harder than others.

“It’s a challenge some days, especially because I’m a change management consultant. So I work with companies in helping them kind of reframe their culture.”

Reader connection over perfection

Not every conversation has to end in agreement. For Leigh, the value comes from connection, curiosity, and dialogue.

“I love the reader interaction, even if we’re not on the same page with things, just learning and having that conversation, I think, is great.”

Advice that leaves room for both art and strategy

Leigh encourages writers to stay grounded in their creative vision while still acknowledging the realities of publishing and marketing.

“Write the story that you want to tell and make that your focus. That’s not to say you shouldn’t be mindful of the marketing and all of those pieces.”

Authenticity is what lasts

At the core of everything, Leigh believes readers respond to honesty more than polish.

“It comes down to authenticity, of being true to yourself. I think that’s what people will see. That’s what will resonate, that authenticity that people can relate to.”

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Closing reflection

Leigh’s story shows us that our most resonate work comes from honesty. We just need to trust our voice and keep writing, even when it feels vulnerable.

If you’re an author navigating visibility, representation, or the pressure to do things the “right” way, this conversation is for you.

You might be sitting on a story that the world has been waiting to hear, so let’s share it.

If that sounds like you, leave a comment about your journey in the comments.

Standout Authors Unbound amplifies the voices of underrepresented writers and indie authors to disrupt an industry that rewards conformity over authenticity.

What if the hardest chapter of your life is the one that teaches you how to finally tell your story?

aka Big Mike’s journey doesn’t follow a neat, inspirational arc. It’s messy. It’s uncomfortable. And that’s exactly what makes it powerful.

In this conversation, Mike shares how he went from being morbidly obese to becoming a boxer and coach, from law enforcement to prison, and from isolation to discovering his voice as a writer. Along the way, he found resilience in the ring, clarity in solitary confinement, and purpose through reading, writing, and education.

This is a conversation about accountability, transformation, and what happens when you stop running from your past and start using it.

Highlights

Transformation through adversity

Big Mike doesn’t frame his past as something to erase or outrun. He talks about it as the very thing that shaped him. The hard moments didn’t define him forever, but they did force him to evolve, reflect, and choose a different path forward.

“I was able to really become a better person. I think that’s a powerful lesson, especially for people who have done those things or similar types of things and can learn to evolve from it.”

Persistence matters more than talent

Progress didn’t come from shortcuts or sudden breakthroughs. It came from staying in the work, especially when it felt repetitive or uncomfortable. Big Mike’s message is simple, but earned.

“Never give up. You know, like just, and I know that sounds corny, but like that it’s so real, like, never stop believing in yourself, right?”

Education and self-reflection create real growth

Growth didn’t happen accidentally. It happened through intentional reflection and learning. Books, writing, and quiet thinking became tools for rebuilding and understanding himself at a deeper level.

“All the growing happened to me through books, through reading, through writing, through that self-reflection.”

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There’s no single right way to grow

Big Mike emphasizes that personal growth isn’t a copy-and-paste process. What works for one person may not work for another, and that’s okay. The real work is figuring out your own rhythm and process.

“I think the most important thing is to figure out your own methods for doing things because everyone works different.”

Writing as a way to understand yourself

For Big Mike, writing is about clarity. Putting words on the page helps him process mistakes, patterns, and decisions he might otherwise avoid.

“I write so I can understand myself, right? I write so I can understand my mistakes, right?”

Community changes everything

One of the biggest surprises in Big Mike’s journey was how powerful community could be. Being surrounded by people doing similar work created momentum, support, and accountability he couldn’t have built alone.

“The most important thing that I got out of my MFA was the building of community, that cohort.”

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Growth requires humility

Big Mike doesn’t position himself as an exception or a success story without flaws. He talks openly about being human, making mistakes, and continuing to learn from them.

“I’m not going to say like that I’m special or anything because I’m not. I’m just a regular guy and I make mistakes every day.”

Fear is part of the process

Avoiding fear keeps you stuck. Big Mike encourages leaning into discomfort, not because it’s easy, but because it leads to real growth.

“Do something that scares you. And that will make you a better person.”

Preparation makes luck useful

Luck alone isn’t enough. The work you do before the opportunity shows up is what allows you to take advantage of it when it finally does.

“You gotta work hard so when luck comes knocking on your door, you’re prepared.”

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Closing reflection

Big Mike’s story is a reminder that writing requires the courage to document your evolution instead of hiding from it. You don’t need a clean past or a perfect path to tell a meaningful story. You need honesty, resilience, and the willingness to keep going.

If you’re an author, a creative, or someone sitting with a story you’re not sure you’re allowed to tell yet, let’s talk about it. Share your journey in the comments.

Thank you , , and many others for tuning into my live video with !

Standout Authors Unbound amplifies the voices of underrepresented writers and indie authors to disrupt an industry that rewards conformity over authenticity.

What if stepping into your voice meant unlearning everything you were taught about staying quiet, fitting in, or waiting your turn?

knows what it’s like to build a successful corporate career while still feeling unseen. After years working in tech and financial services, she found herself drawn to the work of diversity, equity, and inclusion. Not as a trend, but as a necessity.

Then she was laid off.

That moment became a turning point. One that pushed Hady toward entrepreneurship, authorship, and writing the book she wished she’d had earlier in her career, Calladita No More.

In this conversation, Hady and I talk about leaving corporate life, navigating the current DEI backlash, and what it really means to step into your power when the systems around you were never designed with you in mind.

Highlights

Your voice doesn’t disappear just because a role ends

Hady’s layoff wasn’t the end of her work. It was the beginning of something more aligned. After making it known she wanted to work in DEI, she finally landed a role. Losing it forced her to ask a deeper question about where her influence really lived.

“When I got laid off, DEI jobs were already very hard to find. I was lucky to be in one at all. But that moment made me realize I had to build something that couldn’t be taken away.”

DEI work doesn’t stop just because it’s uncomfortable

The conversation around diversity and inclusion has shifted. In some places, it’s been challenged or quietly removed. Hady talks honestly about what it’s like building a business in a space that feels constantly under attack.

“The DEI space has had a big target on its back for some time now. And that’s affected my ability to grow. But the work doesn’t disappear just because the language changes.”

Safety fuels innovation

One of Hady’s strongest points is simple but powerful. When people don’t feel safe to speak, organizations lose their best ideas.

“Innovation suffers when people aren’t safe to talk. When you silence voices, you lose perspective, creativity, and solutions you didn’t even know you needed.”

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Calladita No More is both personal and collective

Writing the book wasn’t just about sharing stories. It was a grounding, therapeutic process that helped Hady process her own experiences while creating something hopeful for others.

“I wanted the book to be joy-filled. It’s honest about how broken the systems are, but it’s also a message of hope and positivity.”

Community is the real safety net

Corporate titles come and go so you need to build relationships along the way. Hady is clear that partnerships and community aren’t optional. They’re essential.

“Always be building partnerships and community so you have something to lean on when you need it. You can’t do this work alone.”

Reclaim your power

A recurring theme in Hady’s story is remembering where your power actually lives — and that’s through your voice.

“I hope the book inspires people to step into their power, to reclaim the power they already have.”

Authenticity is non-negotiable

Hady isn’t interested in polished narratives or corporate-approved language. She wants honesty. Especially for people who’ve been told to tone themselves down to survive.

“I want to help people like me. I want to be honest and transparent about how challenging it is for us out here.”

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Closing reflection

Hady’s story proves we don’t have to wait for others to validate our experiences. You can name what’s broken, tell the truth, and build something meaningful on your own terms.

If you enjoyed this conversation, you’re exactly the kind of writer I created Standout Authors Unbound for. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Share them in the comments or pass this episode along to someone who needs it.

Thanks to , , and many others for tuning our live!

Standout Authors Unbound amplifies the voices of underrepresented writers and indie authors to disrupt an industry that rewards conformity over authenticity.

What if becoming a writer isn’t about choosing a single lane, but about letting your interests collide and trusting what comes out on the page?

is the author My Heart Is A Haunted House and The Garden Of Graves, and she has been writing for as long as she can remember. Long before publishing, long before labels, it was simply something that lived inside her. Over time, that love turned into paranormal fantasy, poetry, and stories shaped by horror, dark themes, and deeply human emotion.

In this conversation, Jessica opens up about what it really means to protect your creativity. Why self-publishing gave her the freedom she needed. How characters often take control of the story. And why comparison, burnout, and turning art into “work” can quietly drain the joy out of creating if you’re not careful.

She’s honest about the vulnerability required to write poetry, the discipline behind finishing projects, and the importance of community when the process gets heavy or isolating.

Highlights

The moment she stopped drawing for herself, she knew something had to change.

Jessica had built a real side art business. It was growing. It was working.

But somewhere in the middle of turning passion into income, the joy slipped out.

“When it went into full-time and now this is my income and I have to draw to make money, it ended up causing a lot of anxiety for me and making me just not want to draw anymore.”

She scaled back. She started reading again. And reading led her back to writing.

Sometimes losing one thing is how you find the thing that was always meant for you.

Her first book started as a poem nobody was supposed to read.

Before drafts and outlines, Jessica was writing poetry like a diary. Private. Unpolished. Just for herself.

But inside one of those poems was the seed of The Garden of Graves.

“The very seed of The Garden of Graves started as a poem, which is now published in My Heart is a Haunted House.”

We often think the work starts when we sit down to write the book. But sometimes it’s already been happening quietly for years.

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Her mom’s stories from the Philippines shaped her writing more than she realized.

Jessica grew up hearing folklore and spooky stories from her mom’s childhood. She carried those stories with her for years without knowing what to do with them.

Then she started writing. And the puzzle pieces clicked into place.

“All the little folklore and spooky stories that she would tell me from her childhood in the Philippines, that has always stayed with me. And I just never thought that I would draw inspiration from that to write until I wanted to write.”

The things that shaped us earliest are often the richest material we have.

Publishing poetry feels like opening your diary to the world.

Fiction comes with armor, Jessica says. You can pour your heart into a character and still keep some distance.

Poetry is different.

“If you put poetry out in the world, you’re taking off the mask, you’re removing the armor. You’ve got no choice but to just be this soft, vulnerable person.”

She knew what every poem in My Heart is a Haunted House was really about. And that vulnerability, the fear that someone might unravel it, was the hardest part of letting it go.

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She would rather be praised for being weird than compared for being similar.

Jessica’s main character hears voices. Her powers don’t fit neatly into any fantasy box. Her book blends genres in ways that might make a traditional publisher nervous.

She did it on purpose.

“I would much rather write a book that is just authentically weird and different and then find readers who love it for exactly what it is than to water it down and make it kind of a copy and paste of all of the other books that are already out there.”

Writing for everyone is how you end up resonating with no one.

Writing is a muscle. And 500 words a day was enough to build it.

When Jessica wrote The Garden of Graves, 500 words was her daily goal. Some days she barely hit 200 and called it a win.

The writing pros might laugh at that number. But she kept showing up.

“It’s like working out for the first time. It was very hard the first time because it’s like a muscle that you’re not used to use.”

Now she doubles or triples that count without thinking about it. The work built the capacity.

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Closing reflection

Jessica’s story is a reminder that writing doesn’t have to be neat, linear, or easily categorized to matter. You’re allowed to blend genres. You’re allowed to change direction. You’re allowed to create work that feels true, even if it’s darker, messier, or more vulnerable than you planned.

If this conversation resonates, you’re exactly the kind of writer I created Standout Authors Unbound for. And if you’re ready to stop second-guessing your voice and start building momentum around your work, let’s talk. Your stories deserve to be out in the world.

If you enjoyed this conversation, check out our written interview!

Standout Authors Unbound amplifies the voices of underrepresented writers and indie authors to disrupt an industry that rewards conformity over authenticity.

is a first-generation Latina author from San Antonio who’s bringing more color, rhythm, and representation into kids’ books. Her ¡123Baila! series and Roqui’s Pandero Beat have earned major recognition and celebrate the joy of bilingual stories.

With a master’s in TESOL, Delia started writing when she couldn’t find the books her ESL students needed. That spark turned into a career built around storytelling, reviewing books, and helping more Latine voices get seen.

She now lives in Puerto Rico, continuing her mission to inspire young writers from immigrant families and to share books that reflect the real depth of Latine culture.

Origins and Inspiration

You went from ESL teacher to award-winning children’s author. What was the moment you realized you needed to write the books your students couldn’t find?

I found myself constantly translating on the spot while doing read alouds because there weren’t enough bilingual and Spanish books. Those written by Latine authors were very few and there weren’t enough stories about a variety of experiences my students shared. Sure, there were immigration stories but where were the joyous Latine stories? The stories of everyday life? This sparked an idea of how can I combine teaching standards and still share a story that my students could relate to.

How have your first-generation experience and TESOL background shaped the way you approach bilingual storytelling for kids?

I was an ESL student during my elementary years. I wanted to write when I was younger but I didn’t know that could be a career so I went into something I was passionate about: Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages. During my time in the classroom I was able to do lots of writing activities for language learning and learn about my students’ journeys while practicing our bilingual storytelling. Read alouds were our go-tos and students were able to listen to their native language (Spanish) while learning a new language (English). Bilingual storytime was what helped narrow the gap between both worlds in the ESL classroom.

Who were the authors you loved growing up, and where do you see their fingerprints in your writing today?

Growing up, my teachers read a lot of animal books so I didn’t connect with a particular author in the elementary years. It wasn’t until 7th grade when we had to read Esperanza Rising and I felt a lightbulb and connection turn on. Today I work at a book festival where we hosted Pam Munoz Ryan this fall as our spotlight feature and I got to listen to her 25th celebration of a book that laid the foundation for my book journey inspiration. Seeing that representation validated that I could be on that journey someday.

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Craft and Writing Life

When you’re creating bilingual books like !123Baila!, what challenges come with making sure both languages carry the same emotional punch?

The 123 Baila board book series was a challenge to work on because it had to rhyme in English and Spanish and it also had to be translated to mean the same thing. I worked on the translation piece first and then focused on ways to fit the rhyme on each line. The good thing is I had editors in the traditional publishing space who assisted with the edits which is how I was able to tweak and make it flow in both languages.

You’ve explored both traditional publishing and self-publishing. What have each of those paths taught you?

Self publishing taught me the most because you’re doing everything yourself (writing, hiring an illustrator, editors, print run, etc). This was a great experience because I learned how the book process works and how to get into big bookstores and register everything. This allowed me to advocate for my own work in the traditional publishing space because I knew the timeline of the book process and how to market months in advance. Traditional publishing taught me how to research accordingly and create pitches related to my stories. Publishers need to sell so when you can convince them how your story ties in with statistics, research, or show how it’ll teach XYZ then you have an advantage when selling the manuscript.

How has your move to Puerto Rico shifted your creative perspective and the stories you’re drawn to now?

Moving to Puerto Rico in 2024 gave me a sense of inspiration because life feels a little bit slower compared to the U.S. Having a slower pace gave me more clarity to go back to my revisions and complete some of my stories that were left as drafts for a while. I have always been drawn to stories about Latine joy and family connections and I’m around this in PR which is beautiful.

What does your writing day look like, especially while balancing creative work with life as a mom to a toddler?

I’m a very type A person so I have a set schedule to work, to parent, and spend time with my family. My toddler has a set routine for play/naps at the same time everyday so I’m able to schedule writing breaks during sleep time. I don’t always write but I do something related to writing: draft, quick sketch of an idea, listen to a song related to my scenes/characters, go on a walk, reflect, jot down a note, etc. Writing isn’t always pencil to paper and taking a pause from actual writing helps me to take my time to create stories.

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Representation and Impact

As a reviewer focused on Latinx children’s literature, what trends are you seeing right now, and where are the gaps that still need attention?

Some trends I saw of 2025 Latinx books (which means they were trends about 2 years ago when authors first signed) were themes of the power of bilingualism, dealing with big emotions, and nonfiction Latine heroes. Some books I’ve love to see more are Latine humorous stories, books about different native dishes, and more stories based outside of the U.S. setting.

Winning an International Latino Book Award for Roqui’s Pandero Beat is a huge milestone. What does that recognition mean for you and for visibility in Latinx storytelling?

Since it was my first book, it felt like a validation that I was going in the right path. The book allowed me to connect with many educators and bring a spotlight to my social accounts. I started collaborating with other authors using my books+theirs in collaboration pieces. Award winners are also invited to in person conferences where I connected with other book lovers so overall it opened many doors and gave me the confidence to continue writing and to continue showcasing other Latine stories.

Beyond entertainment, what do you hope children, especially kids from immigrant families, take away from your books?

My latest book, Ways Papi Says I Love You, is one many Latine immigrant students have related to in recent school visits. It’s the only story I have that’s based outside of the U.S. in a rural ranch setting. The pages show dirt roads, Latine families, a plaza, community helpers, and concrete homes similar to many places throughout Latin America and the Caribbean. Seeing a snapshot of home brings connection and memories to the places immigrant families leave behind. Many of the Latine immigrants who come to the U.S. for more opportunities come from rural settings where they have to leave home for job opportunities. Often times the book publishing space features Latine places where there are big cities, beaches, and have more of a touristy illustration but I wanted readers to connect with the beauty of a rural setting and offer immigrant families a story they can read together (since it’s also available in Spanish) and a story where they can have a slice of home on each page. I remind students that I came from this journey as a first gen and they can also follow this career path and/or share their own stories one day.

What’s the most meaningful feedback you’ve ever received from a young reader?

The most meaningful feedback I received from young readers came from a school visit when I asked them what stories they want to read. They gave examples of funny stories with ghosts, a dog story, food books, stories with grandparents, and many more. I have drafts of all their ideas combined with my own experience. I hope to go on submission these ideas soon!

Looking Forward

You’ve been navigating a career transition. How has that shift changed the way you think about your writing life?

To me, writing is an art. It’s something I want to do at my own pace vs creating for money or because a publisher wants X amount of books. I work as a freelancer in the book industry and create my own stories when inspiration hits. I have an agent who doesn’t rush me and is open to reviewing my work when I’m ready. I am also a mom so I’m constantly paying attention to the kind of stories my toddler enjoys and taking note of what makes a good page turn. I want my writing life to be something I always enjoy and I hope to keep it that way without any external pressures.

What project are you most excited about right now, and how does it build on, or break away from, what you’ve done before?

My latest project is Ways Papi Says I Love you, a story about the 5 love languages based in a rural ranch setting. It comes out in 2026 (almost!) and it’s the story of my heart. It’s the story that landed me an agent and one I feel the closest to since I grew up in a rural place before coming to the U.S. at the age of 6. This story is rooted in the many ways we express love. I’ve had many adult readers tell me how love was shown as kids and how they’re doing things differently now for their own kids. Many first gen Latine readers I surveyed told me that love wasn’t always shown with “I Love Yous” or with hugs/kisses instead it was with a plate of food, with quality time, or sometimes a small gift. I also had this experience and I was able to connect a universal theme (love) to a personal experience (growing up in a ranch) to create a book many readers could relate to (love languages). I hope this book will spark conversations of love preferences and how to receive and give love in a way that’s preferred.

What advice would you give to writers from immigrant backgrounds who still don’t see themselves reflected in publishing?

I always think of the quote that says “If you don’t see it, create it.” There is space for all of our stories and different ways to publish a book. A “No” is not a closed door. I believe we all have a story to tell and if you’re not sure where to get started, ask. Connect with other writers to guide you to a resource or first steps and get the story out there. There’s so many books I’d love to see on shelves and we need more writers out there taking the leap to publish their work.

Closing Reflections

Who are the authors in your circle who deserve a little more of the spotlight?

I could name so so many! There’s a collection of Latine writers called Las Musas that have wonderful stories. There’s also new and upcoming Latine authors I’ve had the privilege of reading their work such as:

• Erika Andrade Smith does hands on Latine board books. Her latest books feature how to roll tortillas into letters and a new book on paletas. Connect with her at @labiblioterika

• Cynthia Ruiz is an upcoming Latina author who has a talent with voice in her writing and is working on a young adult book on loss, grief, mental illness and first-generational trauma. Connect with her at @ibrosdenopal

• is an upcoming picture book writer. Her stories feature her Ecuadorian Salvadoran roots along with yummy recipes! Connect with her at Sylvia Gallardo

And last question. If standing out isn’t about shouting louder, what does it look like to you?

I see standing out as a community win and not as an individualistic highlight. In the book world I love seeing stories I wish I had growing up and love celebrating when my author friends can hold their stories as an official book. When we get to share stories that become a child’s favorite book then it’s a win. One book at a time is how we can continue to bring light to our communities and embrace diversity on the pages.

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Delia’s work reminds us that representation is about being felt. Her stories make space for bilingual joy, everyday moments, and the quiet ways love is passed down in immigrant families.

This is exactly why I started Standout Authors Unbound. To make room for voices like Delia’s and help stories rooted in lived experience reach the readers who need them most.

If you or someone you know is writing from lived experience or building community one book at a time, I’d love to hear from you. Share or comment on this piece. The next story we celebrate could be yours.

Standout Authors Unbound amplifies the voices of underrepresented writers and indie authors to disrupt an industry that rewards conformity over authenticity.

What if becoming an author means learning to trust your voice long enough to put the words down?

is a multi-hyphenate creator and writer who started young. He filled journals before he ever imagined publishing a book. Years later, that curiosity turned into The Seven Laws of Mindful Living, a project he almost didn’t release because of imposter syndrome. But he did anyways.

In this conversation, Vernon gets honest about the messy middle of writing: the fear, the discipline, the rhythm you have to build when life keeps pulling you in every direction.

He talks about balancing creativity with the realities of making a living, why marketing has to start long before a book is finished, and how building community isn’t just a strategy, it’s what keeps the whole journey meaningful.

Highlights

Start before you feel qualified

Vernon’s early journals became the foundation for everything he writes today.

“I wrote my first book in 2016… and then I eventually had the courage to put it out.”

Every author battles imposter syndrome

You’re not alone if you wonder who gave you “the right” to write.

“I was like, who gives me the right to have the authority to talk about these things?”

Find your rhythm, or writing won’t happen

Discipline beats inspiration every time.

“I wrote the entire book in 90 days… I woke up every morning and had a word count goal.”

Creativity and business are both part of the job

You can love the craft and still acknowledge you need to pay the bills.

“I’m always torn between these two worlds… this has got to actually make money because I got bills to pay.”

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Marketing isn’t optional

And it definitely doesn’t start at launch week.

“Marketing should start early, even before the book is finished.”

Community is the real engine

People support authors they connect with.

“I think the most important thing is to have the people like you as a person first.”

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Closing reflection

Vernon’s story is the reminder a lot of us need: writing isn’t about perfection, timing, or external permission. It’s about showing up, being honest, and letting your voice lead even when you’re scared.

If this conversation hits home, you’re exactly who Standout Authors Unbound is for. And if you’re ready to build momentum with your own book, reach out. Let’s make sure your work finds the readers it’s meant for.

Standout Authors Unbound amplifies the voices of underrepresented writers and indie authors to disrupt an industry that rewards conformity over authenticity.

What if the body tells the truth long before we do?

is a writer and somatic practitioner whose work centers on the quiet, everyday ways systemic oppression settles into the body… and how we can begin to soften, listen, and reclaim ourselves.

Soleil is the author of Decolonizing the Body, a book packed with somatic practices that help you slow down, unhook from the stuff you’ve carried for too long, and reconnect with the version of you that feels most true.

We get into her beginnings in journalism, the unexpected virality that changed her career, the emotional labor of writing something brave, and the very real challenge of promoting a book without losing your center.

If you’re a writer who cares about truth, embodiment, and making an impact without burning out, this one’s for you.

Highlights

Writing for the Right Reasons

Soleil reminds us that real writing comes from a deeper internal impulse.

“I don’t do it for the fame… there has to be an impulse other than that.”

Truth Tells the Story

Honest writing lands because readers feel its sincerity.

“The more unflinchingly you can tell the truth, the more that will touch the marrow of another being.”

The Unpredictability of Publishing

You never know which piece of writing will resonate or take off.

“You can never tell. It doesn’t matter how much you’ve written or what has happened in previous attempts to write.”

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Relationships Shape the Work

Community and reciprocity fuel the writing journey.

“So much of it is actually about who we’re in relationship with and how we can consciously cultivate relationships of reciprocity.”

Aligned Marketing Matters

A message lands best when it’s shared with the right audience.

“I think you need to really have an aligned audience for the people that are going to be receiving this message.”

Rest Is Part of the Process

Creativity needs spaciousness, not constant effort.

“If your mind is always working, you’re not going to be able to use it to the best of its ability. It needs a break just like any other part of your body.”

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Word-of-Mouth Wins

Personal recommendations still move books more than anything else.

“Word of mouth promotion is… gold.”

Let the Journey Surprise You

Writing often leads us somewhere we didn’t expect.

“It might take us places we don’t expect to go.”

Bravery Over Perfection

Courageous honesty is what truly connects with readers.

“Just be as honest and truthful and, you know, brave as you can in your writing and it will touch people.”

Follow the Thing Calling You

The most meaningful work usually starts with what we’ve been avoiding.

“Get really clear about what is that one thing that’s been calling that it’s just been hard to make the time for?”

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Closing Reflection

Talking with Soleil is a reminder that honest writing is brave writing that moves people.

When we slow down, listen inward, and tell the truth about what’s really been calling us, the work becomes more than a book or a project. It becomes a reclamation.

If this conversation impacted you, you’re in the right community. Standout Authors Unbound is for writers who want their words to touch people in deep, meaningful ways. If that’s you, or someone you know, reach out. Let’s make sure your story gets the space it deserves.

Standout Authors Unbound amplifies the voices of underrepresented writers and indie authors to disrupt an industry that rewards conformity over authenticity.

What if the story you’re scared to write is the one your readers are waiting for?

writes queer romance under the pen name Olivia Carter. She is the author of Soft Launch, an emotionally rich, medium-angst, high-heat love story.

Andréa didn’t grow up thinking she’d become an author. She simply couldn’t find the stories she wanted to read. Stories with queer joy. Stories with representation that felt real. Stories where diverse characters were front and center, not an afterthought.

Then life handed her a newborn. Inspiration struck when she couldn’t use her hands. So she found a workaround. She started dictating scenes into Google Docs while caring for her baby. And that unexpected pivot opened a door she didn’t know was there.

In this conversation, Andrea talks about discovering her voice in the middle of chaos, choosing a pen name with intention, and learning to create stories that reflect the world she actually lives in.

Highlights

Embracing technology unlocks hidden talent

Andrea discovered her writing ability by using dictation when she couldn’t put her baby down, showing how modern tools can break through traditional barriers.

“I literally started dictating in a Google doc... And so that’s how I realized like, there’s a story here... I don’t think I would have ever called myself a writer had I not relied on modern technology.”

Queer stories matter deeply

Andrea’s work centers on creating authentic representation in romance, filling gaps she noticed as a reader.

“I gravitate towards queer stories. I couldn’t find the stories I wanted to read.”

Marketing expertise transforms book promotion

With her professional background in marketing, Andrea brings industry knowledge to an old fashioned publishing industry, which helps her book stand out.

“I’m just doing the basic marketing stuff I would do for any sort of launch campaign. But it’s just been so fascinating to like apply it to another industry that is honestly a little bit antiquated.”

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Balancing creation and promotion requires intention

Even for a marketing professional, finding the balance between writing and promotion presents challenges.

“It’s a lot to manage... I’m still finding it hard to balance. Like, is this writing time or is this marketing time?”

Representation changes reader response

Including diverse characters on book covers can attract readers looking for stories that reflect their experiences.

“I think that part of this was because the book has a black man on the cover, I do feel like there’s a certain segment of people who are choosing it over the other books in the category.”

Success can be unexpected

Andrea was surprised by her book’s reception despite minimal promotion, challenging her expectations about audience engagement.

“I was not expecting the response... I had that like, well, I’m going to put this out there. Nobody’s going to read it. And then, no, people are reading it. Wow.”

Community support fuels creativity

Finding your people in the author community can transform writing from a solitary act to a sustainable passion.

“It’s amazing when what you can do when you find your people and if you’re dedicated to it, you can make a living. I mean, it’s hard, but you know, some people do it.”

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Closing Reflection

Andrea’s journey is a reminder that creativity doesn’t wait for perfect conditions. It grows in the cracks of everyday life. It shows up when we’re exhausted, unsure, or convinced our ideas don’t matter. And when we choose to write the stories that feel true to us, we give readers a place to feel seen.

If Andrea’s story resonates with you, you’re in the right place.
Standout Authors Unbound is for writers who care about representation. If that’s you, or someone you know, reach out. Let’s make sure your story finds the readers who need it.

Standout Authors Unbound amplifies the voices of underrepresented writers and indie authors to disrupt an industry that rewards conformity over authenticity.

What if the most liberating writing starts with telling the truth about who we are?

is a Brooklyn-based writer, speaker, and the author of The Body Liberation Project, a book that explores how understanding racism and diet culture helps us find peace in our bodies and joy in our lives.

Her work has been featured in outlets like Self, Cosmopolitan, and Shape, where she continues to challenge narrow ideas of wellness and advocate for collective freedom.

In this conversation, Chrissy talks about her unconventional path to publishing, the role of authenticity in her writing, and what it really means to create from a place of liberation rather than perfection.

Highlights

Body liberation starts with truth
Chrissy’s work invites us to look beyond diet culture and learn to feel at home in our bodies.

“I talk a lot about body liberation... how understanding racism and diet culture helps cultivate joy and build collective freedom.”

Representation in publishing changes lives
When we see ourselves reflected in stories, it reshapes what we believe is possible.

“Only 2% of books are written by Black women… it’s really important to have diverse representation in publishing because people need to see themselves represented.”

Social media isn’t the measure of impact
Chrissy reminds us that numbers aren’t the story—real connection is.

“We’ve been trained to look at the numbers, especially since the dawn of social media, to be like, this is just focused on this.”

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Authenticity over approval
The most powerful writing comes from the heart, not the algorithm.

“I can only write from a place of authenticity and passion… I care less about what the world thinks or what’s popular.”

Find people who get your vision
Having a supportive editor or publisher makes all the difference.

“It’s really important to find people that you work with the best… I worked with an editor that I really liked and she was responsive to how I wanted to work.”

Balance the art with the livelihood
Creative work and financial stability can coexist—it just takes intention.

“Yes, you get an advance sometimes, and that can be really helpful, but you also need to leverage other things to keep your finances going.”

Keep writing, even when it’s quiet
Chrissy’s advice to aspiring authors: stay consistent and trust the timing.

“Just keep writing, keep creating… the work shows up where it’s supposed to show up, when it’s supposed to show up.”

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Closing Reflection

Chrissy’s story is a reminder that writing can be both a creative act and a liberating one. When we tell the truth about our bodies, our experiences, and our dreams, we give others permission to do the same.

If Chrissy’s words resonated with you, you’re in the right place. Standout Authors Unbound is for writers who believe their stories can change how we see the world—and ourselves. If that’s you, or someone you know, reach out. Let’s make sure your voice gets heard.