Two Things Can Be True

What brings me the most peace is also what scares me the most

I’ve always been drawn to water. I grew up in Rhode Island—the Ocean State—where lakes, ponds, rivers, and the sea were always nearby. Water was a constant in my life. I was born in July, a Cancer, a water sign to the core. It’s no wonder I’ve always craved it.

Some of my best memories are tied to water—swimming in Tiogue Lake, jumping waves at Scarborough Beach, tubing and waterskiing on Johnson’s Pond. Being near water made me feel whole, calm, and connected. It still does.

But one summer day when I was fifteen, everything changed.

I was at Narragansett Beach with a friend, cooling off in the ocean like I had a hundred times before. Only this time, the current was stronger. I dove into a wave expecting to ride it toward shore, but instead, it pulled me further out. No matter how hard I swam, I couldn’t get ahead of the waves. I could see the beach, I could see my friend, but I couldn’t reach either. And then—I was underwater.

I remember the light shining through the surface above me. I remember the silence, the stillness. And then I remember being on the beach again, sand clinging to my skin, a lifeguard’s voice, my friend crying beside me. I was okay—but something in me had shifted.

Since that day, I haven’t swum in the ocean. I’ll go in up to my knees, maybe, but that’s as far as I get. Still, I can’t stay away. I walk by the brook near my house almost daily. I sit by rivers. I crave the sound of waves and the calm that water brings.

Writing feels like that, too.

It scares me and brings me peace in equal measure. It’s not just something I like to do—it’s something I need to do. Writing helps me process everything I’ve experienced, everything I carry. And yet, every time I sit down to write, it feels like wading into something unpredictable.

Right now, I’m writing my third novel, Regret No More - A Flannigan Girls Story. And more than ever, I’m realizing how deeply writing and water are connected for me. My favorite place to write is near water—where fear and comfort can sit side by side.

I may never dive headfirst into a wave again, but I will always return to the water—and to the page.

With love and gratitude,

Wendy 💙