They cook, try new recipes, and share meals with friends — but when it comes to putting that experience into words, they get stuck. They post something online, maybe a recipe or a photo, and then… nothing really happens. No audience, no traction, and definitely no income. What most people don’t realise is that the difference isn’t the food — it’s the writing. When you know how to describe food properly, structure your ideas, and write in a way that actually connects with readers, everything changes. Your content becomes something people want to read, share, and even pay for. That’s exactly what I teach inside my Food Writing Academy — how to turn your love of food into writing that can genuinely make you money.

I started a new hobby - it's a new Substack called In The Rotation. There, I'll write about high quality items in my life, why I have them, and the philosophy around them. I'll probably post an essay every few weeks. https://substack.com/@intherotation143

Do you ever go to the gym and really push yourself? Maybe you’re lifting weights and you’ve got one more set. Or you’re on the treadmill and there’s half a mile left. There’s a moment where I pause, tighten my resolve, take a breath, and jump back into the exercise. Writing feels a lot like that to me. Last year I wrote four books in one big push. By the end of it, my brain felt completely fried, so the past few months have mostly been recovery. But lately I’ve started to feel that same sensation again. The breath before the next set. Not a frantic sprint. Just that quiet moment where I know it’s time to step back up to the bar. For me, the smaller pieces along the way, essays, posts, conversations, are like the lighter sets that keep the muscles warm between the heavy lifts. So I’m curious where you are right now - where are you in your writing gym? Are you in the middle of a heavy push? Catching your breath between sets? Or taking a recovery day before the next one? Or…are you looking at your running shoes and gym membership and thinking, “Gosh, I need to get back in there”?

It’s called The Mustard Seed Principle: A Course for Writers — and I want to be upfront about what it is and what it isn’t. It isn’t a writing craft course. There are plenty of those. This one starts further back. Before the craft. Before the platform, the audience, the query letters. Before any of that. It starts with a single question: Are you actually a writer — or have you just been circling the idea of one? That’s not a gotcha. It’s the most important question you can answer before you invest another year of your life in the pursuit. Because if writing is truly what you are — not what you want, not what you think you should be, but what you are — then everything changes. The way you work. The way you think about your craft. The way you handle rejection and doubt and the slow days. And if it turns out writing isn’t the thing? This workbook will help you find what is. Five modules. Exercises at the end of each one. It builds toward two things you’ll walk away with: a fully developed I AM statement, and a practice for feeling it in your bones — not just your head. It’s free. It’s in the classroom right now. Go get it. Do the work. And if something shifts for you — I want to hear about it.

I’ve been experimenting with a small writing pattern lately that has helped my scenes feel more immediate. It goes like this: Action → Sensation → Meaning → New Action In real life, moments don’t arrive as explanations. They arrive through the body. Something happens. Your body reacts. Your mind interprets it. Then you do something next. Example: Action: The flashlight flickers. Sensation: The woods vanish for a second and my stomach tightens. Meaning: Of course… I forgot to change the batteries. New Action: I smack the flashlight against my palm and keep walking. That simple loop can repeat over and over inside a scene. Something happens. The body feels it. The mind reacts. The character moves. When writing feels flat, it’s often because we jump straight to explanation and skip the physical experience of the moment. So here’s a small exercise if you want to try it: Write a short scene (100–200 words) using this rhythm: Action → Sensation → Meaning → New Action Then repeat the loop once or twice as the moment unfolds. You’ll probably notice the scene starts to feel more immersive because the reader is experiencing the moment the same way the character does. If you try it, drop your scene in the comments. I’d love to see what everyone comes up with.