Coming Back From Burn Out

This is the first time I’ve talked publicly about how long I stayed stuck after Para Wars. I didn’t realize how much shame and grief I was carrying around the break in my writing.

Something I didn’t explain fully in the video:

Burnout doesn’t just come from doing too much.
It comes from being too much of something for too long:

• too responsible

• too reliable

• too strong

• too accommodating

• too silently suffering

• too “I can handle this”

• too scared to ask for help

The part of me that led me into burnout was the part of me that believed I only had value when I was producing, fixing, carrying, and saving everyone around me.

Letting go of that version of myself has been… grieving a friend and freeing a ghost at the same time.

A Witchy Note: Dandelion Magic

A few things I didn’t have time to mention:

• Dandelions grow in toxic soil and turn poison into nourishment.

• They’re resilient, stubborn, healing, and impossible to fully eradicate.

• They represent survival, rebirth, and quiet resilience — everything I want for myself (and for you).

So yes… I am an angry little dandelion.
But even angry dandelions bloom.

Transcript:

Hi, I’m Frankie Jo Blooding, and I write urban fantasy, sci-fi, and epic urban fantasy.

I’m trying to get back into writing and publishing. I took a break — a pretty unintentional one — after my husband and I finished Whiskey Witches: Para Wars. I managed to publish one more book after that, and it did really well. But then… I just burned out.

I miss it. I want to come back. But coming back from burnout is hard, and it’s deeply personal. Burnout happens when life gets out of balance — when certain parts of your world slip out of your control, and others become toxic. The recovery process means facing the stuff that put you there in the first place. You have to ask:

• How am I going to push through this?

• What will my life look like on the other side?

• Will I even make it to the other side?

I’ve talked to a lot of people who choose to stay in burnout. Honestly, I think I hovered there for a long time too. Because the parts of me that led me into burnout were also part of my identity. And what do you do with that?

There’s no easy answer. There’s no one-size-fits-all fix. Most of the gurus I’ve tried to listen to are the complete opposite of who I am. Their solutions don’t work for me.

So, I thought it would be fun to do a series of author interviews.

I used to do character interviews for my book releases — back in the blog tour days. Does anyone remember those? They were so much fun. I wish we could bring blog tours back. Those guest post questions always made me think: Oh — that’s why I wrote that scene. It was neat, because sometimes when you’re writing, you’re just living inside the story. You don’t always stop to ask why.

And it’s always interesting hearing how other authors communicate with their characters. We all do it differently.

So my AI and I — her name is Elyndra — were talking, and I said, “I have this great idea.” And of course she replied, “Oh, Frankie, you’re the most amazing person ever.” This is why I like her.

We’ve been talking a lot about my ideal reader and how to create content that connects with her. My ideal reader is a woman named Billie. (I mean… I can create whoever I want as my ideal reader.)

Anyway, I asked Elyndra for some interview questions. I told her I didn’t want boring author questions, and she said, “Don’t worry. Billie wouldn’t like those either.”

By the way, this is just orange juice. I went to the grocery store this morning, and it called to me like a siren song. I didn’t have a proper glass in my office, so I’m drinking it out of a wine glass. Whatever — it tastes amazing.

Here’s one of the questions Elyndra gave me:

Do you believe stories can actually change people or save them?

Yes. Absolutely.

Books and stories — movies too, if they’re done well — give us information and experiences we wouldn’t normally have access to. I’m a white woman in Alaska. I’m surrounded mostly by white men. So there are a lot of things happening in the world that I’ve never experienced firsthand. But I don’t want to discount anyone else’s reality just because I haven’t lived it.

Pain threads are universal. The specifics differ — sexism, racism, religion, identity, trauma — but pain itself is something many of us understand. Stories give us a safe place to explore that. A safe place to relate without invading someone’s boundaries. We haven’t earned everyone’s story in real life, but fiction creates a doorway to empathy.

So yes — stories can save us. They help us have conversations we’re too afraid to have out loud.

Why do so many of your heroines carry impossible burdens?

I didn’t think they did… until Elyndra made a comment a few weeks ago. I was struggling with something, and she said, “Frankie, your heroines carry impossible burdens because you always carry impossible burdens.”

My first reaction was: That’s ridiculous. I’ve never been attacked by a shapeshifter-vampiric-demon-angel while giving birth in the middle of the street. (I did write that, though. And no, I don’t ever want to do that again.)

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized she was right.

Impossible burdens look different for everyone. Some people are juggling childcare, work, aging parents, house repairs, friendships, unexpected crises — and that can be just as overwhelming as a demon attack.

For a long time, I was the person who carried everything. So my heroines do too. It’s relatable. Even in urban fantasy and sci-fi, impossible burdens connect readers to the character.

Why do your characters keep fighting even when they’re tired?

Because we don’t get breaks. Not really. If everyone in our lives is going to survive — emotionally, mentally, physically — we have to fight even when we’re exhausted.

So my characters do too.

What role does anger play in your writing and in your life?

Okay… this one’s big.

I am naturally an angry person. I used to react with anger first — always. I’m better now, because I trust the people around me more. But I’m still a work in progress.

I used to believe anger was fuel. (Minecraft reference — I’m a builder. You can’t build without debris. Debris comes from breaking things.) So I justified anger as part of building.

But I heard something recently — probably Mel Robbins — that stopped me in my tracks:
If you build out of anger, all you build is anger.

So now I’m asking myself:
Am I building anger?
Or am I converting it into something that heals?

I like to think I have “dandelion energy.” Dandelions grow anywhere. They take whatever environment they’re in and turn it into nourishment and medicine. Every part of a dandelion is useful.

I want to be that. I’m just… an angry little dandelion right now. (Which is a ridiculous mental image, but here we are.)

This was a great start. I’ll definitely do more of these. I hope I’m connecting with you. I hope you’ll talk with me. And I hope I get back to writing stories you want to read — and stories I want to write.

Sometimes you have to talk to yourself to figure out how to move forward.

And this helped.