Welcome to Accidentally in Progress

It started with a few harmless essays. It got out of hand.

About a year ago, I made a questionable decision: I started writing on Substack.

At first, I treated it the way you treat a houseplant you are not sure you want to keep — some half-hearted watering, a lot of nervous hovering. I wrote a few things based on my own life experiences, hit publish, and waited to feel like a fraud. Instead, something odd happened: I liked it. Even odder, a few other people liked it too.

Week after week, I kept showing up. I pulled out small stories, big lessons, and the occasional dramatic overreaction, and somehow strung them into sentences. I began to notice that writing felt less like work and more like... well, less like work. I started trusting my own voice. I started believing I might have something worth sharing.

Naturally, that is when I decided to write a book. Because what better way to celebrate a year's worth of cautious progress than by launching myself into a wildly bigger, much more complicated project?

The plan was simple: write a light, fun, easy-to-read book about life lessons — no heavy lectures, no preaching, no "Ten Steps to Ultimate Enlightenment While Standing on One Leg" type of nonsense.
The reality, of course, was that my first few drafts were so heavy, they could have been used to anchor a small ship. Reading them now, I can practically hear the imaginary readers putting down the book halfway through a paragraph and whispering, "Maybe personal growth is not for me."

It took months of cringing, reworking, and pretending to be my own editor to start pulling out the real voice — the one that sounded more like me and less like an overeager camp counselor.

That is what Accidentally in Progress is about.
This section is where I share the behind-the-scenes chaos: the drafts that limped, the ideas that ran away from me, the tiny victories that made me do a small, quiet fist-pump no one else saw.

If you like a good work-in-progress story — the kind where the mess is half the charm — you are in the right place.
If you prefer your writers polished and wise from the beginning... well, it is probably too late to pretend.

Thanks for being here. Wear comfortable shoes. We are just getting started.