Beyond the Page: Notes & Reflections From the Author
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Beyond the Page: Notes & Reflections From the Author •
January 7, 2026
Continued Intention
I didn’t rush into the new year.
I didn’t come in loud, listing resolutions or promising to be everything all at once.
I arrived slowly. Thoughtfully. Carrying what mattered — and leaving behind what didn’t.
This past season asked me to pause.
To reflect.
To grieve.
To give thanks.
And in that quiet, something important happened: clarity.
Returning with intention doesn’t mean I stopped dreaming.
It means I returned knowing why I dream.
I returned remembering that rest is not the opposite of productivity — it’s part of it.
That reflection is not falling behind — it’s preparing the ground.
That some seasons are for doing, and others are for becoming.
This year, I’m choosing intention over urgency.
Meaning over momentum.
Purpose over pressure.
I’m returning to my work with steadier hands and a softer heart — still committed, still creative, still building… just more rooted.
Stories will continue to be at the center of what I do.
Stories that hold memory.
Stories that honor love and legacy.
Stories that remind us that even the smallest moments matter.
As I step into this new year, I’m not starting over.
I’m continuing — with wisdom earned, lessons learned, and gratitude for every step that brought me here.
If you’re entering this year quietly too, know this:
You don’t have to rush to be ready.
You don’t have to perform your healing.
You don’t have to prove your growth.
Sometimes the most powerful way forward
is simply returning — with intention.
Welcome to a new chapter.
I’m glad you’re here.
From my heart and pen,
Gwendolyn
December 10, 2025
Threading Stillness, Weaving Stories
People often ask what inspires my writing, and the answer isn’t always a moment, a memory, or a burst of creativity.
Sometimes, the inspiration comes from something much quieter.
Something steadier.
Something made with my hands instead of my pen.
For me, that something is beading.
There’s a rhythm to beading that feels almost like breathing — slow, intentional, and grounding. When I sit with my beads, the world softens. The noise settles. The rushing stops. My hands get busy, and my mind gets still, creating a kind of peace I don’t always get anywhere else.
And in that stillness… the stories find me.
Because beading isn’t just a craft.
It’s meditation.
A quiet space where ideas slip in like soft whispers.
Every bead I choose, every pattern I form, every gentle motion of threading one tiny piece after another becomes a sanctuary — a place where creativity rises without force. It’s almost magical how working with something so small can open the door to something so big.
But beading is also its own kind of storytelling.
Colors become characters.
Patterns become plots.
Repetition becomes rhythm.
Texture becomes emotion.
A beaded piece says something — about the person who created it, the moment it was made, the intention behind it. It’s a story written without words, shaped bead by bead, echoing the same patience and care I bring to the page.
Writing and beading may look different, but they come from the same place inside me — the space where love, legacy, and memory live. The space where my creativity slows down enough for my heart to speak.
And I’ve learned this:
When my mind feels scattered… I bead.
When my spirit needs quiet… I bead.
When my stories need room to breathe… I bead.
And eventually, the words return.
Steadier.
Softer.
Stronger.
Beading teaches me to listen.
Writing lets me speak.
Together, they help me create the stories I was meant to share.
So if you ever see me with a needle in one hand and a manuscript in the other — trust me, it’s all part of the process.
Both are art.
Both are healing.
Both are my way of weaving love into the world.
From my heart and pen,
Gwendolyn
December 3, 2025
The Magic of Jólabókaflóð:
A Tradition Worth Sharing
Every December, as the world slows into winter quiet, Iceland celebrates a tradition that feels like it was created just for readers and dreamers everywhere.
It’s called Jólabókaflóð — “The Christmas Book Flood” — and the heart of it is beautifully simple:
On Christmas Eve, families exchange books…
and then spend the night reading them together, wrapped in warmth, comfort, and chocolate.
No rush.
No noise.
Just stories, blankets, and the soft glow of being with the people you love.
When I first learned about this tradition, something inside me paused.
It felt familiar.
It felt tender.
It felt like a reminder of why stories matter in the first place.
Books have always had the power to gather us — across generations, cultures, and living rooms. They become part of our memories, part of our rituals, part of the way we love each other. And truly, isn’t that what the holidays are about?
Not gifts, but connection.
Not things, but moments.
Not perfection, but presence.
Jólabókaflóð honors all of that.
And while it may be rooted in Iceland, its spirit is universal — a celebration of slowing down, opening a book, and allowing a story to hold space for you.
As I thought about this tradition, I imagined families here finding their own book-gifting rhythms. Cozy corners. Pajamas. Children drifting off to sleep with stories still whispering to them. Parents ending the night with full hearts and quiet smiles.
And it reminded me why I write the books I do.
Stories like The Jar of Kisses, filled with love, legacy, and memory — the kinds of stories that wrap families together.
Stories like Cameron! Look at the Moon!, inviting children to look up, wonder, and discover magic in everyday moments.
And now, with The Jar of Kisses soon arriving in Español_, even more families will be able to share that tenderness in the language that holds their home.
Maybe this year, you’ll join the “book flood.”
Maybe you’ll start a new tradition.
Maybe you’ll give a child a story that becomes part of the way they remember their childhood.
A book on Christmas Eve.
A blanket.
A little chocolate.
A moment of stillness.
It doesn’t take much to create magic — just intention, love, and a story worth holding.
And if you’re looking for something heartfelt to tuck beneath the tree or slip into a little reader’s hands…
You already know where to find me.
Here’s to stories that warm us.
Traditions that bind us.
And the gentle joy of reading together.
From my heart and pen…
Gwendolyn
November 26, 2025
Where Wonder Begins
There is a quiet kind of magic that happens when a child opens a book.
Something soft.
Something sacred.
Something that reminds us that imagination is one of the first places we ever learn to dream.
When children read, they step into worlds built just for them.
They travel beyond their neighborhoods, their routines, their front yards, and discover places lit by possibility. And somewhere between the first page and the last, something inside them begins to bloom — confidence, curiosity, courage, joy.
It’s one of the reasons I write the stories I do.
Stories wrapped in love.
Stories rooted in legacy.
Stories that leave little footprints on the memory.
Every book becomes an invitation:
to imagine, to wonder, to hope, to feel seen.
I believe deeply in giving children — especially children of color — stories where they can find themselves reflected with tenderness and beauty. Stories that whisper, You belong here. You are worthy. You are magic.
And as we move through this week, I hope you find a moment to return to something that inspires you. A line. A chapter. A story that still echoes. Let it water whatever dream you’re carrying. Let it remind you that growth doesn’t always happen loudly — sometimes it begins in the quiet turning of a page.
From my heart and pen…
Gwendolyn
November 19, 2025
"The Season of Giving… and the Stories We Share”
Every year, as the air turns crisp and the world leans into gratitude, I find myself returning to one simple truth: giving is a form of storytelling.
Whether we're offering a warm meal, a heartfelt hug, or a quiet moment of kindness, each act becomes a little narrative thread in someone else's life. A reminder that love still shows up. That community still matters. That small gestures can echo far beyond the moment they're given.
As an author, I'm learning that writing follows the same rhythm.
Every story I put into the world is a gift — one wrapped in imagination, wonder, and a little piece of my heart. When a reader opens a book, they're unwrapping a moment of care. A moment meant just for them. A moment that says, "You matter. Your joy matters. Your memories matter.”
This season, I'm reminded that writing and giving share the same root: intention.
Both ask us to pause, to reflect, to pour something meaningful into the hands of others.
And maybe that's the real magic of being an author — not just creating stories, but creating moments that nourish. Moments that feel like home. Moments that, hopefully, someone carries with them long after the last page is turned.
As we move deeper into this season of giving, I hope we all discover new ways to share our gifts, time, stories, and hearts. Because the world is just a little brighter when we give… and a lot more beautiful when we write with purpose.
From my heart and my pen,
Gwendolyn
November 12, 2025
The Words We Keep
Some words stay with us long after they’re spoken.
They echo in our memories, tucked between laughter, love, and lessons we never forget.
As a writer — and as a mother — I’ve learned that words aren’t just sentences.
They’re keepsakes.
A whisper of comfort.
A note of encouragement.
A reminder that love doesn’t always need a grand gesture — sometimes it just needs to be said.
When I wrote The Jar of Kisses, I wanted readers to feel that truth — that love can be stored, remembered, and opened again when we need it most.
And when I wrote Cameron! Look at the Moon!, I discovered another kind of keepsake — the words that connect generations.
The ones we say so often, they become part of our rhythm, our rituals, our story.
Because “Look at the moon” isn’t just a sentence — it’s a moment.
A bridge between a mother and her son.
A reminder to pause, to notice, and to carry love wherever life takes you.
So here’s to the words we keep…
The ones whispered before bedtime, shared through stories, or spoken in passing — but remembered for a lifetime.
From my heart and my pen,
Gwendolyn
November 5, 2025
Write from the Heart… Your Audience Will Find You
Thoughts from a Kindred Pen
Every now and then, a Kindred Pen crosses our path—one that reminds us that stories connect and inspire. Today we welcome another beautiful voice to our Circle of Words and Wonder.
~Gwendolyn
Guest Blogger: Shonda Tennelle Pulliam
Hello, My name is Shonda Tennelle Pulliam. I grew up in East St Louis, IL, in the heart of the Midwest. I am a mom, Nana, author, poet, and songwriter. Thank you for spending a little time reading with me today. Be blessed.
Your heart —what an intimate way to connect with readers. Writing in itself is a very intimate process. When you share those thoughts, ideas, and ultimately stories, you look to connect. The great thing about this is that the reader will find you. Our hearts are open to so many different genres of story, and you, as the author, need to concentrate on telling your story. The one that comes from your heart. Believe in the words you put on the pages, and the reader will connect to those stories.
As a reader and a storyteller, the connection to the story is key. Your imagination is activated, and you get to go on an adventure curated by another individual. The authors give you a glimpse into their worlds and creativity. They show you the magic of the moon like in "Cameron! Look at the Moon!" or tell you a love story unfolding in "In Between Love".
Writting is very intimate and personal to the writer. We are showing an audience what it means to give life to words. During our stories, words start to walk, dream, love, and come alive. We are conveying our hearts to you. The reader is the audience. The pages of the book are the stage, and our words play off the pages into your hearts. We connect through these words. Our hearts share a memory, remember a love, or just come together between the pages.
So remember, writers, open your hearts and let your stories flow.
October 29, 2025
Write… Right? Finding the Balance Between Perfection and Passion.
There’s something about that little blinking cursor that dares us to be perfect. Every writer knows the tug — the urge to get it right. To choose the flawless word, craft the perfect sentence, and polish the idea until it shines.
But somewhere between all that editing and erasing, we risk losing something essential, the heart of what we were trying to say.*
I’ve learned that writing isn’t always about being right. Sometimes, it’s about being real.
The words that connect the deepest aren’t born from pressure… they flow from truth. Whether it’s a bedtime story, a children’s book, or a note scribbled on the back of an envelope, the most powerful words are the ones that feel honest.
Every story I’ve written, from The Jar of Kisses to Cameron! Look at the Moon!, began not because I had the perfect outline, but because I had a feeling. A tug at my heart that whispered, “This matters.” And when I listened, the stories unfolded in their own rhythm, flaws and all.
So to every writer, dreamer, and creator reading this:
Don’t let perfection keep you from your pen.
Don’t let fear silence your story.
Write what feels right.
The world doesn’t need perfect words — it needs yours. 💛
From my heart and my pen,
Gwendolyn
October 22, 2025
What Readers Teach Me
Each week on Beyond the Page, I share a glimpse of what shapes my stories—inspirations, the lessons, and the quiet moments that remind me why I write. But this week, I want to shift the light. Because as much as writing has taught me, you—the readers—have taught me even more.
Every message, every comment, every story you share about how a book touched your heart reminds me that storytelling is never one-sided. When I wrote The Jar of Kisses, it was about me and my son, Cameron. But you showed me it was every parent and child who has built love out of everyday moments. And when Cameron! Look at the Moon! came to life, I thought I was telling a story about wonder—yet you reminded me it was also about reflection, and slowing down long enough to look up.
Your stories—of reading to your children, gifting my books in memory of loved ones, or finding yourselves reflected in the pages—have built a bridge back to me. You've taught me that the connection between writer and reader is a circle, not a line. I pour the story out... and somehow, you pour it right back in.
So this week, I just want to say thank you for letting my words find a home in your hearts, for continuing to share the, and for reminding me that storytelling is a shared legacy. The page may begin with me, but the meaning grows with you.
From my heart and my pen,
Gwendolyn
October 15, 2025
Building Bridges & Legacy Through Storytelling
Each week on Beyond the Page, I open my heart a little wider—sharing the thoughts, lessons, and quiet momets that shape the way I write and live. This week’s reflection feels especially close to home. It’s about the power of storytelling—not just to entertain, but to connect.
I've always believed that stories are bridges. They carry us across time, across distances, and sometimes across quiet spaces between hearts.
When I write, I am not just creating characters or moments—I'm reaching for connection.
Each story is an invitation: to remember, to feel, to see ourselves and each other a little more clearly.
Storytelling, for me, is legacy in motion. It's how we hold onto moments that shaped us and offer them to the next generation with open hands.
Whether through The Jar of Kisses, Cameron! Look at the Moon!, or the stories still waiting to be told, I hope that each one reminds someone that love leaves a mark—and that ordinary moments often become our most meaningful memories.
The beauty of storytelling is that it doesn't just preserve where we have been; it builds a bridge to where we are going.
That is the power of words. They don't just connect, they continue.
From my heart and my pen…
Gwendolyn
October 12, 2025
Why Representation Matters
Welcome to Beyond the Page—a space where I step outside the stories themselves to share the heart, lessons, and lived experiences that guide my pen. It’s a space for reflection, authenticity, and connection—where life and creativity meet, and where every word carries a piece of who I am.
When I write, I think about the stories I didn’t see when I was young. The families that looked like mine. The mothers who sounded like mine. The kids whose love, laughter, and skin carried the same glow as my own.
Representation in children’s literature isn’t just about inclusion—it’s about reflection. Every child deserves to open a book and see themselves inside it: their skin tone, their family structure, their hair, their neighborhoods, their joy, their love, their possibilities.
When young readers see characters like Elena and Mateo (The Jar of Kisses) or Mama and Cameron (Cameron! Look at the Moon!), something powerful happens. They realize:
My love belongs in stories.
My love looks like love worth writing about.
I can be the main character—not just the friend, the sidekick, or the background.
It affirms their identity and builds self-worth at a deeply emotional level.
For children who don’t share those experiences, it builds empathy—the ability to understand, respect, and celebrate someone else’s truth.
Stories like The Jar of Kisses and Cameron! Look at the Moon! are doing both.
They are mirrors for the children who finally see themselves… and windows for the children learning to appreciate someone else’s world.
That’s why diversity in books is not just important—it’s essential!
Because when our books reflect every kind of beauty, every kind of family, and every kind of love, we don’t just tell stories… we change the narrative of who gets to be seen.
From my heart and my pen…
Gwendolyn