Writing Strong Women To Become One
What made this question hit so hard for you this week?
Well, I’m really trying to figure out how to be the strong woman I want to be. I’m a lot stronger than the past versions of me were, and that’s great, but I sometimes feel like I have a long way to go.
Hi, I’m Frankie Jo Blooding, and I’m back in my big comfy chair. I love this chair. I love these lights. I love this corner — it’s one of my favorite places. The view is great. I do need to clean my office because it’s starting to look a little junky, but things have been chaotic lately… mostly in my brain space.
So yes — time to clean. But for now, we’re back to doing the author interview thing. I had so much fun last time, even though I only made it through three questions.
Look, I write novels. I don’t write poetry. I don’t write short stories. I write novels — and apparently, I give novel-sized interviews too.
So let’s dive in.
What do you think happens when women stop being afraid to be powerful?
This is a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately.
My day job — because I had to go get one again — has me working with this one man who is… well, he’s kind of a bully. The way he gets his way triggers two reactions in me:
I want to blow my top and tell him he’s a Neanderthal.
Or I want to shut up, do what I need to do, and cry quietly later because he’s being such an a-hole and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Being a woman in construction and trying to do project management — I say “trying” because I don’t think I’ve ever been successful at it — is rough. I keep running into the “Nates of the world.” They’re so common. Like manure in a feedlot. Fine until challenged… and then suddenly everything is on fire and they’re shouting about how dare you exist in their space.
Sometimes I ask myself, “Did you hire me because you think I’m stupid?” But he didn’t even hire me. I don’t think he wanted me hired.
I’m trying to figure out how to be powerful. I don’t think I ever have been. And I hate that. I don’t know how to stand in my own skin and feel comfortable. I don’t know how to stand up for myself consistently.
I can fight for others. But fighting for myself? That’s harder.
I usually manage situations so I don’t have to fight.
How this ties back to my characters
I created Paige because I needed to learn how to fight.
When I wrote her, I was such a mouse. I had a hard time being heard. I had a hard time being seen. I was invisible.
Every time I tried to make myself visible, the reactions were awful. So I assumed I was doing something wrong.
Paige taught me otherwise. She taught me:
Their reactions are on them
The only thing I can control is how I respond
If someone throws a tantrum because you drew a boundary, that’s a them problem
You don’t need buttheads to like you
Paige got me partway there.
But then we have Victoria.
Victoria is a badass in a pantsuit. The way she handles people has me asking:
Can I be more like you?
Can I emulate you?
Can I calmly tell a man he shouldn’t have barged into my office — and not back down when he pushes back?
If I could do that in the real world? The reactions would be nuclear. Men and women both would flip. And even thinking about standing my ground like that gives me anxiety.
But that’s what I want for the women who read my books — to see their inner power and grab hold of it.
To stand up for themselves.
To draw boundaries — and enforce them, which is the hard part.
Because the people who benefit most from your lack of boundaries are the ones who kick the hardest when you set them.
What do you think happens when women stop being afraid to be powerful?
I think the world changes.
I think the world becomes better — safer — stronger.
I think it would be phenomenal.
What’s the most witchy thing you do?
Honestly? I used to be a lot more witchy. I lost faith in myself, and in the craft. That’s not a great place to be.
But I want to reclaim it. And witchcraft, at its heart, is simple: doing something with intention.
Even making breakfast can be witchcraft.
But for this week?
My witchy practice is going to be something small and important:
I’m going to look myself in the eye each morning.
No judgment.
No shame.
No “you need to be better.”
Just 30 seconds of presence.
As long as my cat allows it.
I miss the groundedness.
I miss my cards.
I miss feeling like I could positively affect the world with herbs and words and intent.
I want that back.
What’s the hardest part of writing right now?
Writing.
That’s it. Writing.
I’m in the doubt box:
“Everything has to be perfect before you release it.”
“Nobody cares about your stories.”
“Why are you even doing this?”
But then I reread part of Dream Lord Wars, and oh my god — it’s good. It hits so hard. It feels like the story my soul needs to tell, and also the story my soul needs to hear.
My stories don’t come from my life (my real life is boring right now). They come from stories I’ve collected through other people, from emotions, from needs, from the truths my soul is chasing.
And sometimes, I write what I need to hear because I can’t find anyone else saying it.
What would you say to a woman who feels like she’s failing everyone right now?
You’re not failing.
It just feels that way.
You are doing more than you give yourself credit for.
Instead of listening to that voice in your head — the one you’d never speak to someone else with — stop.
Make her stop talking.
Listen to silence.
Let yourself exist in that quiet.
You are amazing.
You are slaying it — even on the days that look like lessons instead of victories.
The people who rely on you? They know you’re reliable.
You show up more than you think you do.
Now I just need to play this back for myself, because I definitely don’t talk to myself this way.
I hope you have an amazing week. I hope you’re reading something wonderful. And I hope you take some time for you, because you deserve it.
Hopefully I’ll be doing some writing this week that I can share — that would be really cool.
Thanks for being here. Talk to you later.
