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Since adopting our sundews in early 2025, they have flowered twice. The first time was last summer. The second time was last week.

The sundews grow a single, spindly, and comically tall stalk with a cascade of buds. Every day, one by one, the vibrant pink flowers open. The flower of the day will slowly start to unfurl in the morning and will be fully open by midday.

Every morning last week, I’d walk past the flowers several times and each time, the flower looked a little bit more open. So I had the brilliant idea of taking a time-lapse video to be able to see the growth happen, right before my eyes. I had visions of Planet Earth style time-lapse, a full unfurling in thirty seconds.

The next day, I set up my phone on a stand, set it to Do Not Disturb and walked away.

By the time I had to leave after lunch, I went to stop the video and realized the flower was only halfway open. Wasn’t yesterday’s flower completely open by this time? Or did I make that up?

No matter. I was sure the video would still be awesome.

I watched. If my life were a cheesy sitcom, there would definitely be a “wa-waah” sound playing.

It didn’t look like anything had changed at all. Did I start the video later than I had thought? I pushed play again and the half-opened flower snapped back into the tightly closed bud.

There it was. So it did change. But I couldn’t see “real-time” progress—even in time-lapse! I could only see growth by comparing the first shot to the last. And even that was less impressive than I had expected.

My mom has spent hours sorting through thousands of photos (probably literally), printing them, and selecting ones to create giant Nora photo collages. These will be on display for her open house on Sunday.

Looking through those beautiful photo creations has been an eerily similar sundew moment.

Because of the near-loss of our second daughter, I have spent the last 15.5 years practicing each day being as present as possible in the now and letting go of the “are they where everyone else says they should be?”.1

Looking back over 18 years of excruciatingly-slow-and-mind-bogglingly-fast Nora time, I’m so thankful that I spent more time enjoying each phase of her growth and less time wondering why I couldn’t see the growth happening in real-time.

Because look at that! She has grown up into a kind, thoughtful, creative, brilliantly talented, and deep-thinking adult.

In the chaos of May, my writing work has unintentionally but necessarily moved further out toward the periphery. I feel like it is trudging along a road to nowhere.

I want so desperately to be able to watch my own writing, creating, and personal growth progress in real-time. I want to be able to time-lapse my progress and see exponential growth in thirty seconds. And I keep looking back at my time-lapse and wondering why it’s not as impressive as I had expected.

Maybe Nora and the meat-eating flower are both hitting hard right now because I know I need to learn their lesson.

A reminder to myself to stop worrying about the shoulds. Be present in the moment and trust that growth is still there. Even if it’s excruciatingly slow and swarming with fruit flies.

🦄 Kristin

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Books Giving Me Hope Right Now

Agent Sonya by Ben MacIntyre

Enola Holmes series by Nancy Springer

A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking by T. Kingfisher

How about you? Where are you finding growth frustratingly slow?

Leave a comment

P.S. If you liked this story, check out more Inconvenient Hope posts & podcasts here👇

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Inconvenient Hope is a reader-supported series of Unicorn Hollow where I’m sharing simple, creative practices that remind me that my life is not an obstacle. If you’d like to see more of my writing, check out a Map of Unicorn Hollow, and then subscribe to make sure you never miss a post! For centuries, artists of all disciplines have been kept afloat and creating by patrons who looked at their work and said, “Yes! This matters! This needs to be in the world.” If you have that feeling, I’d be honored if you would be my Patron! My posts & podcasts will stay free, but if you have the means, you can help me build up this space and become a paid, monthly subscriber (and get some thank-you perks!).

Subscribe now

You can also give a one-time donation on Ko-Fi. Writing is my career & every bit of support goes directly to my family. Thanks for being my unicorn!

I think I’ve finally accepted that from now until June, things will just be a lot. Time is limited, tasks are many. The post I had hoped to send out last Friday is still not quite done (maybe by Thursday?!).

In that post, I’m pondering the light topic of mortality. For a host of reasons, which I will get into more in the post, that’s where my mind tends to go back to when I’m in a season of overwhelm. So today, while I was staring out at the insanely pink flowers, I kept coming back to a thought:

The only moment that is promised me is right now.

Our life has some ever-present reminders that each moment is a gift that may not be here tomorrow. Even so, it is still so easy to forget when my survival mentality creeps back in and life and people become one long task list to manage.

So, I’m trying to stay present. To look for the joy and sacredness in the tediousness of things I do not enjoy and am not very good at1 – never-ending laundry, washing dirty dishes, filling out 4.23 million forms, paying bills, trying to produce quality work when strapped for time, cleaning up so many different types of poop, and living in a house that is never quite organized or clean.

And sometimes, staring out the window, whispering a prayer, and scribbling down some thoughts & fears & brilliant (in my mind) ideas with near-strangers on a livestream is the best way to experience the reality of now.

I hope this time can give you some soul-quiet to be present and sit in a little bit of wonder at the fact that we are all here, on a careening rock in a vast expanse of space that can also hold an entire universe of wonder in a raindrop.

Thank you to everyone who tuned into my live video! I’m hoping to set up my next live in advance so people can plan to join if you want (here’s hoping 🤞).

🦄 Kristin

I would love to hear from you! Was this quiet time helpful? What would make you really excited to join a live, quiet time of being creative together? What kinds of things help you stay present? What kinds of scenes would you like to see livestreamed for creative alone time? I read every comment and respond!

Leave a comment

If you’d rather, you can send me a private message and share your ideas! I would really appreciate hearing from you. ❤️

Share Unicorn 🦄 Hollow

Inconvenient Hope is a reader-supported series of Unicorn Hollow where I’m sharing simple, creative practices that remind me that my life is not an obstacle. If you’d like to see more of my writing, check out a Map of Unicorn Hollow, and then subscribe to make sure you never miss a post! For centuries, artists of all disciplines have been kept afloat and creating by patrons who looked at their work and said, “Yes! This matters! This needs to be in the world.” If you have that feeling, I’d be honored if you would be my Patron! My posts & podcasts will stay free, but if you have the means, you can help me build up this space and become a paid, monthly subscriber (and get some thank-you perks!).

Subscribe now

You can also give a one-time donation on Ko-Fi. Writing is my career & every bit of support goes directly to my family. Thanks for being my unicorn!

Get more from Kristin K Wilde Giuliani in the Substack app

Available for iOS and Android

Get the app

So if you find yourself overwhelmed, like me, this one is for you. I think at times we all need a little encouragement to take care of ourselves. I hope you’ll hop on and take 15 minutes to sit with me in the hollow and do something creative or even just rest.

Thank you to everyone who tuned into my live video! Join me for my next live video in the app.

Get more from Kristin K Wilde Giuliani in the Substack app

Available for iOS and Android

Get the app

It only took 4 rescheduled flights, 2 winter storms, 9 inches of snow, and influenza A making the rounds for me to arrive (a week late, but just in time) to watch my sister perform the title role in Violanta at Duetsche Oper Berlin.

This is also the first time in over 25 years that we’ve had more than a day alone and it has been glorious—deep talks about the meaning of life, walking, drinking tea, eating delicious food, and binge-watching Pluribus.

Along with sister time, opera time, and snowy-slip-sliding-sight-seeing time, has been some much-coveted alone time. While I still get the 481 daily alerts from my life back in Tennessee, there is space in my brain.

Space to think.

Back in December, I decided that my theme for February is Ack! Pruning is Painful! And boy. That choice was annoyingly prophetic.

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A little over a decade1 ago, we were on a family camping trip in a burr-heavy campground in Iowa. The year prior, after accidentally washing our burr clothes in with a regular load, we had experienced the joy of finding tiny, poky prickles for months in seams of shirts, inside socks, and (the worst) hidden somewhere on the inside waistband of pajamas. So for this trip, we tried to choose the least burr-conducive fabric. And by the time everyone was changing into pjs, I had only been assaulted by a handful of burrs. Success!

Until one of the girls walked up to me.

“Can you help me get my shirt off? But be careful. Don’t ruin my decorations.” She pointed to her fuzzy brown shirt.

I did a double take. Wait…wasn’t her shirt…green?

I leaned in closer.

“What…?” My mouth dropped open. Her shirt was meticulously covered in tiny, tan burrs.

“Isn’t it pretty?” She gazed down lovingly at her poky monstrosity.

“But…how?” I couldn’t even finish the question, wondering how many hours it would take to pull all those burrs off.

“I put them there, as decoration,” she smiled up at me. “I was pretending to be The Burr Queen. Like Ramona. Only I was smart and didn’t put them in my hair.”2

🤦‍♀️

I think of removing burrs as a form of pruning. Much like extra branches, burrs aren’t bad. They just aren’t supposed to stay permanently (or so prolifically!) on our clothes. Carrying some away is necessary biology. But ultimately, they belong in the ground, producing green plants and beautiful flowers.

As I sit here in Berlin, in the empty spaces created by being away from my “normal life,” I can see how I am my very own Klettenkönigin (Burdock Queen). Good and necessary burrs always find their way into my life on their own. It’s ok to carry them for awhile. But once they’ve served their purpose, I need to remove them.

More often, I don’t take the time to assess what needs to go. I just leave it all there and slap my own burrs onto my life, mindlessly filling the empty spaces in my life with them because we’re told that’s what good, responsible people do. Empty space means we’re not working hard enough.

In the end, the burrs that stay too long snag fabric, hide in seams, snarl in hair, and bury themselves so deep, that little pieces are permanently left behind.

I know poetry has an arduous reputation for the average person—writer and non-writer alike. But I’m not sure there’s a better practice for learning the value of empty space. Or for pruning and distilling our words down to the absolute essentials.

Do these extra words add anything to my message or do they actually confuse the meaning? Can I create a deeper impact by leaving emptiness around one key word?

Poetry is uncomfortable for me. I don’t feel insightful or introspective or deep enough to even understand it, let alone write it. But I have found that the more I dive in, the more I am able to identify unnecessary burr-words and all my writing becomes clearer, crisper, brighter.

Paying close attention to the emptiness around meticulously selected words in poetry has also given me a new way to look at my real life. By treating my life like a poem and getting rid of the space-filling-burrs, I create quiet around the essentials.

Empty space creates intense beauty in poetry. Turns out that it also creates intense beauty in life.

🦄 Kristin

Where does truth lie

by me

What if the truths
we seek with desperate abandon

live not in the 
frantic filling & piling & cramming & jamming
into every crevice & hushed moment
but live in the 

In-Between

the awkward 
pauses of space, unfilled

Truths
crowded in clutter
waiting for 
the brave
to bear

silence

Writers Giving Me Hope Right Now

The dishes between, me and my tea by

Lanterns in the Dark by

What We Build, An Ode to Community… by

Ars poetica in springtime by

As if the day by

A Saturday Interlude: Two Original Poems by

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How about you? How do you feel about poetry? How about “empty space?” Does that feel as scary to you as it does to me?

Leave a comment

P.S. You can read more of my poetry here 👇

Cherished Wrinkles

Fog & Light

Ode to the spot where the pool once stood.

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Inconvenient Hope is a reader-supported series of Unicorn Hollow where I’m finding simple practices from my messy, normal life to that remind me that hope sits right there next to the mess. If you’d like to see more of my writing, check out a Map of Unicorn Hollow, and then subscribe to make sure you never miss a post! For centuries, artists of all disciplines have been kept afloat and creating by patrons who looked at their work and said, “Yes! This matters! This needs to be in the world.” If you have that feeling, I’d be honored if you would be my Patron! My posts & podcasts will stay free, but if you have the means, you can help me build up this space and become a paid, monthly subscriber (and get some thank-you perks!).

Subscribe now

You can also give a one-time donation on Ko-Fi. This is my career, so every bit of support goes directly to feed and clothe my small army of children. Thanks for being my unicorn!

Share Unicorn 🦄 Hollow

Hey y’all! Welcome to Inconvenient Hope where I'm finding simple practices from messy, normal life to that remind us that hope sits right there next to the mess.

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This week, I chatted live with , who graciously shared his audience with me and let me pick his brain about writing! Despite The Dratted Internet’s best attempts to destroy my connection, we prevailed and had a fantastic conversation (pardon the frozen bit starting at about 11 min, 30 sec. After an hour of trying to download the video to edit it out, I gave up and figured you can skip ahead 30 seconds!).

We talk about David’s journey from struggling to make ends meet as a freelance writer expounding the many astonishing qualities of mattresses to building a successful writing career with over 33,000 subscribers and four published novels!

David shares how he pulls ideas for the settings of his novels from Irish mythology, Northern Ireland’s majestic landscape, and mundane circumstances. He shares his practical advice for navigating times when we feel creatively stagnant: establishing sacred writing routines, stepping away from the screen, giving yourself permission to chuck entire chapters that just aren’t working (even when that feels like chopping off your hand!), and encouraging your characters to make all the bad choices you’d never make yourself! We also tackle a bit of building engagement and audience online and end with where David is finding hope right now and bit about why each of us started writing our novels.

Here are my top takeaways from our conversation:

Just Try It

While writing about mattresses wasn’t exactly David’s dream job (to put it mildly), it jumpstarted his search for something better. And, his biggest surprise in his writing journey was discovering that things he thought he could never do (daily writing, coaching, publishing books, podcasting, going live) became some of the things he loves most about his work! His advice: take the bull by the horns and see what happens.

Step away from the screen

When feeling stuck, often, the best remedy is to close the laptop and go for a walk, drive, or, really, anywhere else. Some of David’s best ideas for settings and concepts have come from being out and about in Northern Ireland. You’ll be amazed how ideas and thoughts flood back in when you’re not just staring at a blank page.

It’s OK to be brutal (with your writing & characters)

If a chapter isn’t working and you can’t figure out why, try writing it over again (keep the original) from a new angle. Try something completely different. Don’t try to force yourself to keep trudging down a boring path. If you need some ideas of how to change a scene up, make your characters do stupid or uncomfortable things—get in a spat with a friend, do something you’d never do, say the thing you’ve wanted to say and never had the guts to do! Passive characters who are only reacting because everything just happens to them make for boring stories. Having characters make bad decisions that readers can see coming creates tension and engagement, making readers want to “reach into the book” to stop them.

Establish sacred writing time

As much as routine-challenged people like me hate to hear it, a predictable routine is crucial for getting that brain in the mood to write fiction writing. Try to set aside a specific time each day (even if it’s 15 minutes!) to focus solely on creative work. This is productive—even if you only write a few sentences.

Build community strategically

Something I’ve found helpful (thanks to David’s great advice) to grow my audience on Substack, is to find publications in your niche, that feel similar to what you’re writing, or that resonate with you, and follow their engaged readers. I have been delighted with the incredible writers and creators I’ve found this way—connects me with people who share my interests and are at various stages of their own writing journeys and who may become fans of your work, too!​​​​​​​

David McIlroy is the creator of How to Write for a Living and helps writers develop brands, strategies, and systems that transform their words into life-changing income. He’s a full-time solopreneur, coach, and author of fantasy and horror. He lives in Northern Ireland with his wife Christine and his dogs, Lupin and Ghost. He’s active on Substack, YouTube, Podcasts, and possibly even in a bookstore near you!

If you liked the tips in this video, check out some of my other ideas for getting unstuck, coming up with your own writing prompts, and navigating creative winters:

Thank you , , and many others for tuning into my live video with ! Join me for my next live video in the app.

How about you? What was your key takeaway? Do you have any practices that help you generate new setting ideas?

Leave a comment

Inconvenient Hope is a reader-supported series of Unicorn Hollow. If you’d like to see more of my writing, check out a Map of Unicorn Hollow, and then subscribe to make sure you never miss a post! For centuries, artists of all disciplines have been kept afloat and creating by patrons who looked at their work and said, “Yes! This matters! This needs to be in the world.” If you have that feeling, I’d be honored if you would be my Patron! My posts & podcasts will stay free, but if you have the means, you can help me build up this space and become a paid, monthly subscriber (and get some thank-you perks!).

Subscribe now

You can also give a one-time donation on Ko-Fi. This is my career, so every bit of support goes directly to feed and clothe my small army of children. Thanks for being my unicorn!

Get more from Kristin K Wilde Giuliani in the Substack app

Available for iOS and Android

Get the app

Note: Pardon the poor video quality. It was a bad week for Wi-Fi and cell service…of course.

I had a beautiful vision for this post today. Glorious prose. Pithy insights. A wee bit of snark.

But today had other plans, which you will soon see. But instead of stewing all day (I did stew for a spell), I decided to take my own advice, shift my perspective, and use this as an opportunity to create a short story.

Shifting Perspectives1 Photo #16

Once upon a time there was a writer named Kristin, who lived in magical Unicorn Hollow. One morning, she awoke to the suffocating feeling of a heavy, encroaching darkness. No, she pleaded as she harnessed her Evil-Tracking Hounds. It cannot be here so soon.

“Fly, Zeus. Fly, Frank. Find the evil,” she whispered into their ears.

They flew through the Hollow. It took only a moment before they discovered the source. She braced herself for the worst. But relief flooded her body as her eyes followed the trail of slushy frost to the ever-growing, icy lagoon.

Thank all the Goodness. No life was claimed.

She had heard harrowing tales of the various forms of malice prowling the earth in these waning days. She knew she could have found devastation.

But her relief swiftly turned to deep vexation. The cottage would now be without water for days. Her meager stores of coin would be depleted.

No life was claimed. Receive this as a mercy.

But curses! The dratted Pipe-Bursting Fairy had found his mark.

How about you? Anything you could shift your perspective on and try to use as fodder for a brilliant bit of creativity instead of the 💩 that it is?

Leave a comment

Inconvenient Hope is a reader-supported series of Unicorn Hollow. If you’d like to see more of my writing, check out a Map of Unicorn Hollow, and then subscribe to make sure you never miss a post! For centuries, artists of all disciplines have been kept afloat and creating by patrons who looked at their work and said, “Yes! This matters! This needs to be in the world.” If you have that feeling, I’d be honored if you would be my Patron! My posts & podcasts will stay free, but if you have the means, you can help me build up this space and become a paid, monthly subscriber (and get some thank-you perks!).

Subscribe now

You can also give a one-time donation on Ko-Fi. This is my career, so every bit of support goes directly to feed and clothe my small army of children. Thanks for being my unicorn!

Get more from Kristin K Wilde Giuliani in the Substack app

Available for iOS and Android

Get the app

I’m hoping to do one of these every week, so if you’re able, I’d love to have you join me next time in the app! If not, I’ll always share a post with the video and some post videos thoughts as well as upload the audio to my shiny, new podcast!

January’s Theme: But Everything Looks Dead!

(A brief-ish summary of the video)

These days, I’m not one for resolutions or “words of the year.” I spent too many years putting too much stock in the changing of a date and then getting quickly discouraged when my inevitably-too-ambitious plan derailed and I was left an even more disorganized, blubbering mess in the dust-bunny-strewn corner of my chaotic house.

Instead, I’ll be writing and sharing on monthly themes this year. Each theme will focus on steps of my own writing and human journey that have helped me harness my messy life and, through the theology of compost (thank you, Jeff Chu), use it to grow something more beautiful.

January’s theme is But everything looks dead! and will focus on the hard lessons of winter, where we do things over and over, and just have to trust that something is happening, even when that feels like a big, fat lie.

In my video, I share a little bit about my hopes for building community here in Unicorn Hollow where we all feel comfortable showing up just as we are, mess and all and that the little things we do each day actually matter. And Friday Finds will be a part of how I hope to build that. Each week, I will pop on and share a little something (practice, mindset, connection, place) that I’ve done or am doing that has helped me in my messiest moments of writing and life.

This month, I’m sharing some little things that, in isolation, can feel like a pile of dead leaves—filling up the yard with soon-to-be-decaying clutter. But when looked at over time, I’ve found are actually the barren branches of dormant trees, growing and moving and getting ready to surprise me with how much growth they were hiding.

This week, I’m talking about Intentional Interruption—taking a couple of minutes to stop the brain churning and force myself to do something that is different from the status quo. I first figured this out 10-15 years ago, in that blurry time of life where we had 2-3 tiny people, a graduate student stipend + part-time non-profit salary, and no free time. In the Iowa winters, we kept our thermostat low (think 58-60F) and while the girls ran around in just their diapers and underwear, I was freezing most of the time. So one day I discovered that I could trick myself into feeling warmer by periodically standing outside without a coat for 2 minutes before coming back inside.

In addition to it feeling like I was walking into a sauna, I found that I suddenly had an insight or idea for a sticky problem that wasn’t there before. I thought maybe it was the shock of cold, but found that the same thing often happened when I just intentionally interrupted whatever I was doing that was causing me to be stuck. The more I intentionally interrupted my sticky spots, the quicker my brain was able to look at things differently.

Whether I’m stuck on a character plot point, trying to get a theme to wrap up neatly, summarizing a grant request, trying to not pull out my hair as I step on another shockingly-sharp Lego, or resisting the urge to not strangle a haughtily sarcastic teenager, this practice has an outsized impact on my problem solving abilities that still shocks me every time.

Back when I had little kids to keep alive as they constantly pulled, screamed, climbed, and mess-made, I would lock myself in the bathroom for 2 minutes and forced myself to do absolutely nothing. These days, when I’m stuck after sitting and staring at my computer, I force myself to get up and go stand outside in the rain for 30 seconds.

Over the last decade+ of intentionally interrupting my status quo, I have found that my brain almost immediately is able to look at the issue I’m stuck on in a new light, just from making myself move.

How about you? Have you tried this? What small practice or idea have you found that helps you get unstuck? I’d love to hear!

Leave a comment

Inconvenient Hope is a reader-supported series where I'm finding simple practices from my messy, normal life to that remind me that hope sits right there next to the mess. If you’d like to see more of my writing, check out a Map of Unicorn Hollow, and then subscribe to make sure you never miss a post! For centuries, artists of all disciplines have been kept afloat and creating by patrons who looked at their work and said, “Yes! This matters! This needs to be in the world.” If you have that feeling, I’d be honored if you would be my Patron! My posts & podcasts will stay free, but if you have the means, you can help me build up this space and become a paid, monthly subscriber (and get some thank-you perks!).

Subscribe now

You can also give a one-time donation on Ko-Fi. This is my career, so every bit of support goes directly to feed and clothe my small army of children. Thanks for being my unicorn!

Get more from Kristin K Wilde Giuliani in the Substack app

Available for iOS and Android

Get the app

Subscribe now

First, to my new subscribers, welcome! I hope you’ve taken some time to wander around Unicorn Hollow. If you haven’t already and could use a little chuckle, check out my most recent 3-part mini-series over on Tales from the Sippy Cup Gang about wonky cupcakes, missing deodorant, and the dreaded Fall Fundraising Festival at school.

In Today’s Post:

Art journaling with Care December

Shifting Perspectives Photo - Reimagining frost

A Pet Pic - Zeus the Whiny in a rare moment of quiet

A Bit of Verse - A delightful love sonnet to Netflix by my 8th grader

Care December art journaling

December, Advent, and this time of year in general are typically my absolute favorites. But as someone for whom executive functioning skills are a lot of hard work, this time of year with four school-age kids uses up just about all of my brain power on remembering what and who need to go when and where. And that’s in a “normal” year.

I don’t know about you, but these days I’ve been a bit of a mess. Finances are tight, prices are high, the world is on fire, hormones are obnoxious (yes, yes, my body is amazing and all that), the holidays are nigh, I’ve got plantar fasciitis, and I’ve been battling a never-leaving-respiratory-and-fatigue-something for the last six weeks. And I can’t even say “six-or-seven” weeks, even though that’s more accurate, because middle schoolers have stolen that from me, too!

Art I create is one of those things that always ends up looking way better in my head than in reality. But regardless of how the final product looks, I always feel refreshed after letting myself feel a little bit like an elementary school kid again. Several years ago, a friend introduced me to Everything Art, which is a lovely, quiet, easy-for-messy-beginners place to learn about and practice making art.

Every December, they offer a free 15-day art journaling course designed to help us create a space for peace, creation, introspection, and grounding during a typically chaotic time of year. This year the theme is Green. Starting December 5, they release one prompt/mini-lesson a day encouraging us to slow down, notice the world around us, and delight in the small bits of beauty.

The lovely thing about Care December is that you can get as involved and elaborate, or as simple as you need. You can dig deep into the practice of learning how to mix acrylic colors and combine them with pastels after creating your own art journal from old mail, books, and cloth scraps (which I have never done). Or you can grab an old notebook and a $0.99 watercolor set from the grocery store (more my style).

I signed up for Care December back in 2021. I only completed about 5 days during December before life took over, but access to the course is forever and I was able to revisit it in January and July and in 2023.

It took me way too long to realize that when I start the day caring for my wellbeing (even if it’s only 2 minutes, which was all I was able to do for several years), that everything else goes well. So this year, to combat the chaos of December, I’m hoping to start each day with quiet contemplation, centering prayer, and Care December. I’ll be posting my daily art journal work in Notes but also feeling zero guilt if I can’t make it work every single day.

If Care December sounds like something that could bring you joy, I’d love for you to join me—I’ve included the link below for you to check out yourself. You’ll have to create an account with your email, but then you have access to it for free forever. If you decide to join, drop me a line in the comments!

Sign up for Care December 2025

Hope to see you there!

Shifting Perspectives: Frost

Wintessa’s wings sagged. Every bit of adrenaline drained out of her as she slumped onto the frost-dappled ground. How could she have been so stupid? Of course she was chosen to deliver the warning message to the Hero who could stop the Evil Sorcerer from destroying the entire world. She had spent a decade dedicating every spare moment to becoming the fastest Frost Fairy in the Glen. She got here faster—by at least an hour—than any other Fairy could have. But she had completely forgotten that she had cheated for her Frostwriting Final. The Hero couldn’t read her writing.

A Pet Pic: Zeus the Whiny

A Bit of Verse

My 8th grader just finished studying Shakespeare’s sonnets. Each kid had to write a love sonnet to an assigned “object of their affection.” Her sonnet to Netflix gave me so much joy that she gave me permission to share it with you.

Netflix - by Lidia Giuliani

Oh the sounds of joy, sadness, fear, and love

They fill my heart with tons and tons of glee

It is like the most beautiful white dove

It’s like the most amazing thing to me

.

Just as I finally start to see you

You always find something to take away

Oh I do not know what there is to do

Oh A brand new thing I see the next day

.

Oh Netflix why are you so addicting

How much I hate when you destroy my life

when I see the pictures that you depict

I say I’ll stop but I come filled with blithe

.

You always hint that we are meant to be

But after all this you let me go free

What’s bringing you joy these days?

Leave a comment

If you’d like to see more of my writing, check out a Map of Unicorn Hollow, and then subscribe to make sure you never miss a post! For centuries, artists of all disciplines have been kept afloat and creating by patrons who looked at their work and said, “Yes! This matters! This needs to be in the world.” If you have that feeling, I’d be honored if you would be my Patron! My posts & podcasts will stay free, but if you have the means, you can help me build up this space and become a paid, monthly subscriber (and get some thank-you perks!).

Subscribe now

You can also give a one-time donation on Ko-Fi. This is my career, so every bit of support goes directly to feed and clothe my small army of children. Thanks for being my unicorn!

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“I know that it’s hard for me to get creative with boring old black or blue ink,” she said with a wink.

Consider this post my Green Pen gift to you.

Earlier this summer, I started a new project called Shifting Perspectives on Notes. I asked myself the question: What if we all took just a moment out of every day to pause, physically shift our bodies, and force ourselves to see the world from a different perspective?

Feel free to use the photos as a springboard to create your own story, or use my writing prompts and start writing what you think happened next. I’d love to hear what you found helpful and please share any of your own writing prompts in the comments!

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Shifting Perspectives Photo 1

Little did Giles know that the scent he tracked was not, in fact, a dropped bit of this morning’s breakfast sausage. It was the smell of the Queen’s memory—from nearly a millennium past—of the Lost Potion of Invisibility.

Shifting Perspectives Photo 2

“Ok, so what if we could teleport and it would take 4 seconds to teleport anywhere in the universe. Like if you wanted to teleport an inch in front of you it would take longer to teleport than walk there! And a button on a remote or controller would work like a portal creator. You know, you point it at anything and that thing would become a portal to anywhere you want! Even a PERSON could become a portal. They’d be frozen. Just temporarily. You’d point it at the thing and say where you want to go and push the button and a portal would appear. Even a TOILET could be a portal. [cackles] You could teleport POOP!!”

-Leo, age 8

Shifting Perspectives Photo 3

“Well. That’s new,” she said as she approached the pine at the property line. “The Nelsons must have finally gotten tired of extension cords.” They were. But the installation was done by Glumbutton, the Tree Elf. He just really wanted a Keurig.

Shifting Perspectives Photo 4

“Oh, love, not so close.” Mama gently collected his hand in hers and took a half-step back.

“But it’s so hot, Mama,” he whined. “I want to swim.”

“We will, love,” she said. “When the Lift returns.”

“But I’m such a good swimmer! At home….”

“This is not home, love,” Mama cut him off quietly, but with that tone. The one she used when he got too close to the fire. “And that is not water. No matter how similar it looks. Remember. The rules here are different.”

He sighed. He had already forgotten.

“I know it’s hard to remember, but you must try. If you jump off this dock, you will fall through the air and be flung out to space.” He shivered, despite the suffocating heat. “And that would not be a very good way to start our vacation now, would it?” She tried to lighten the mood with a strained chuckled, then gestured up.

“Oh, look, love! The Lift is here!”

Shifting Perspectives Photo 5

First, it was said they had all moved away, driven off the fertile pasturelands and out of the bursting orchards by the influx of humans.

Then, memories faded and it was said they were a myth. Made up by simple, uneducated peasants.

Now, they are jokes, relegated to the world of memes and children’s playthings.

But the unicorns are shrewd. Their last alliance is with the flowering vegetation, who listen and report back to the Unicorn Commanders. Every fall, the High Unicorn Council gather to determine if the time is right. And every winter, they decide to wait some more.

But make no mistake.

The unicorns will return.

Shifting Perspectives Photo 6

She wasn’t sure if she should thank or curse her 73rd Great Grandmother for trusting that Elwyn guy. On the one hand, generations of humans are more inclined to gaze in awe than sweep away hours of her exhausting work. On the other hand, Beatrix Carlotta Arabella Arachne now lived with a terrific, crushing pressure to perform. There was always some human who kept obnoxiously expecting to see radiant signs and wonders appear in her craft. She tried to humbly keep her expectations low. She told herself that she is not, in fact, an imposter, but an artist. But no matter how many times she heard the gasp of delight followed by a disappointed sigh, it never ceased to sting.

Bonus Prompt

An errant storylet dancing around my brain today

Clancy meandered lazily through the brilliant red and orange leaves. He breathed in the crisp, hint-of-wood-fire fall air and took a running leap toward the low-hanging maple branch.

THWACK!

Instead of swinging, like usual, from the lowest branch on his favorite climbing tree, Clancy was holding his head where he had collided with the branch after somehow gravely misjudging how high to jump. Just yesterday, he still had to use all his force to reach the branch.

Looking up, he realized he could now reach the branch by simply raising his hands in the air. And, as he stood gazing up, he watched the branches of the tree move closer and closer to his head. He was growing. Fast…

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In Unicorn Hollow, we take weekly strolls where we stumble on hope, snark, creativity (& possibly unicorns) inconveniently hiding in the small, messy bits of our actual lives. Inconvenient Hope is a reader-supported publication Unicorn Hollow. If you’d like to see more of my writing, check out a Map of Unicorn Hollow, and then subscribe to make sure you never miss a post! For centuries, artists of all disciplines have been kept afloat and creating by patrons who looked at their work and said, “Yes! This matters! This needs to be in the world.” If you have that feeling, I’d be honored if you would be my Patron! My posts & podcasts will stay free, but if you have the means, you can help me build up this space and become a paid, monthly subscriber (and get some thank-you perks!).

Subscribe now

You can also give a one-time donation on Ko-Fi. This is my career, so every bit of support goes directly to feed and clothe my small army of children. Thanks for being my unicorn!

Subscribe now

Over the last week or so, I’ve really been missing having Littles.

“Aww…I miss when they were that age,” people in my life stage often say. “They were so sweet and things were so simple.”

My oldest is about to become a senior in high school and my youngest will be starting third grade. Aside from some core memories, the exhaustion of parenting toddlers and preschoolers—mini humans intent on their own destruction—is hazy. Most of what’s left are the adorable videos and pictures and hand-print-turned-turkey art projects from the now-surly teenager slamming the door in your face.

But, to be clear, that’s not what I miss.

They were sweet. Sometimes. But life was not simpler. It was just complicated in a whole different way. I loved Littles. But I really love this new stage and getting to know my kids—their thoughts and perspectives and gifts and joys and sorrows—in such a deep way.

What I miss is constantly being forced to examine the world from a new perspective.

From physically spending hours playing on the floor, I could regularly see how much bigger and more intimidating things seem when you’re suddenly so small. But also so enchanted, as we found magical fairy-hollows hiding in the gnarled bark of oaks and secret hideouts of dust bunny-filled, forgotten corners behind couches.

I spent years being endlessly late to everything because there was always a kid saying “hello” to the lavender or following an ant to see where it lives or examining the dew drops on spiderwebs and frost crystals on late-season roses.

As I’ve worked to get myself into the mind-set to write for children, I’ve found that this Magical Explorer part of my brain has started to atrophy. I think it’s probably something that happens naturally to every adult; if we don’t use it, we lose it. And as I watch—again—the endless cycles of chaos and death and unimaginable cruelty in the world around me, I can’t help but wonder:

What if we all took just a moment out of every day to pause, physically shift our bodies, and force ourselves to see the world from a different perspective?

What might we notice from putting ourselves into an unfamiliar location? A place that makes us feel a little uncomfortable? A little vulnerable?

Unlike adults, kids have an incredible ability to see beyond what something is to what something could be. I just wonder what actions, opportunities, and solutions are right there, just out of reach, because we are too comfortable in our own perspective.

There are some writers who are responsible and skilled at online advocacy, education, mobilization, and action. Their role is invaluable. That role is not for me. I have wasted a lot of precious time worrying about how to do something that was never mine to carry for fear of appearing to be the “silent complicit.” The more time that goes on, the more convinced I am that most of us need to shut up and listen online a lot more, and be a lot more active and purposeful in our real, physical lives. But to do that, we need to be able to see the world beyond ourselves and what is comfortable.

One thing I can do here is remind myself—and share with you—how life looks when we take a second to shift perspectives.

So in my Notes, I’ll be posting daily-ish photos and musings encouraging us slow down and shift our focus. To invite us all to consider what could be when we gaze around from the hope-filled, magical perspective of children. On each photo, I’ll share my in-the-moment-idea of what little-bitty-me might imagine. I hope you’ll share your ideas, too! I expect we’ll all be a little rusty to start as the Explorer Brain gets back into shape. That’s ok. We’ll be out-of-shape together. And together we’ll generate a treasury of kid-like wonder (and maybe some great writing prompts, too!).

I don’t expect the world to suddenly be healed because I share this photo and then wonder:

“What if that fallen leaf is actually the spaceship of interdimensional, miniature axolotl aliens who landed in a field of diamonds?”

But if I truly believe that the smallest things matter, then I have to believe that something essential happens to us when we choose to “lower ourselves into the position of a child.”1 That simply taking a minute or two a day to step out of ourselves, invite others along, and share our ridiculous, child-like thoughts with each other will lead us to become more thoughtful, intentional people.

It is with thoughtful, intentional people that lasting change begins.

🦄 Kristin

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P.S. If you liked this story, check out some related posts/podcasts here👇

What do you think? Has your Child-like, Explorer Brain atrophied along with mine? Where might you start to explore a new perspective?

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Inconvenient Hope is a reader-supported series of Unicorn Hollow. If you’d like to see more of my writing, check out a Map of Unicorn Hollow, and then subscribe to make sure you never miss a post! For centuries, artists of all disciplines have been kept afloat and creating by patrons who looked at their work and said, “Yes! This matters! This needs to be in the world.” If you have that feeling, I’d be honored if you would be my Patron! My posts & podcasts will stay free, but if you have the means, you can help me build up this space and become a paid, monthly subscriber (and get some thank-you perks!).

Subscribe now

You can also give a one-time donation on Ko-Fi. This is my career, so every bit of support goes directly to feed and clothe my small army of children. Thanks for being my unicorn!