Bound Lines and Book Spines

By Kristi Cruise People assume writing comes easy for me. After all, I’ve been a journalist, a health reporter, an author for nearly 30 years. (Wow, that's a long time.)  My days of pretending to be older than I am to be taken seriously have long since passed. And my writing has changes so much over time. I’ve written thousands of stories in my life—but most of them weren’t mine. That was the job. You learned to strip yourself out of it. You knew that the story was never about you. You didn’t cry on the copy. You didn’t let your voice shake. (Expect that one time when I was coming the house fire that swallowed 2 firefighters. they were moving across the living room floor, the fire was in the basement and when the crossed the unknown inferno, it swallowed them whole. That the only time I remember in my TV career where I had a difficult time keeping it together.)  But those days of writing hard news. They are long gone. And now? Now, almost everything I write is me. It’s weird,...

 By Kristi Cruise This picture was taken six years ago. And in true cliché fashion—it feels like just yesterday. But not because time is passing normally. Because lately, time feels like it's collapsing . Every week feels like a month. Every month feels like a chapter I used to live over the course of years. My life has been moving at warp speed —and I don’t say that casually. It’s as if the universe is compressing a decade of growth into a single, breathless season. And the truth is... I think I’m in it. A full-body upgrade. An awakening. A timeline collapse. All of it. Some days I feel like I’m grieving and birthing at the same time. Like I’m being dismantled and rebuilt in the same breath. Old stories falling away like ash, New identities not yet fully formed—just flickers and fog. But still, I create. Still, I show up. Still, I write and teach and love and mother and try. Because this isn’t just ordinary living anymore. This is a  full-spectrum existe...

By Kristi Cruise Maybe They Hope It Will All Implode Sometimes, deep down, I wonder if the world is quietly rooting for me to give up. That one day I’ll burn out, break down, or just finally say, “You know what? I’ll just be a full-time mom and devoted housewife.” And truthfully? Part of me would love that. The softness. The simplicity. The slow beauty of ordinary days strung together with snacks and laundry and always being there when someone needs you. But the truth is… that life would require two of me . And there’s only one. So I keep going—not because I don’t want the slower life, but because I feel called to something more expansive. Something messier. Something braver. And I’m doing what I believe is best for my children: Showing them that women can do both . That we can juggle family and creativity, dishes and drama. That the house may be messy, but the impact is lasting, or at least I hope.  I want them to see me create. To know I didn’t just talk about books—I...

By Kristi Cruise I can feel it in my bones. I’m writing like someone who finally found the door in. Not the voice I’ve trained or tempered. Not the “professional” tone I’ve polished to perfection out of fear of being too much or not enough. But my real voice. The one that’s always been waiting just beneath the surface, hands pressed against the glass, whispering.  It’s strange and beautiful. I used to think I was being authentic, sprinkling vulnerability like Celtic sea salt. But this? But this isn’t high-mineral-content seasoning. This is the whole damn meal. And for once, I’m not cooking it to be liked.  I think my throat chakra has been blocked for most of my life. Not by accident, but by survival. By the fear of being misunderstood or rejected.  I made “articulate” my armor. And as a trained, professional journalist, I was so good at it, and I forgot I was even hiding. Because the stories I told were never mine. But not anymore. Author Kristi Cruise Now the wor...