Full Circle - Welcome To The Blog!

I was six years old when I first felt the pull. I couldn’t name it back then, but I remember exactly how it felt. While most kids were begging for toys or snacks in the checkout line at Walmart, I was wandering off - drawn like a magnet to the office supply aisle. I was obsessed with journals. I wanted all of them, even if I didn’t know what I’d write inside. There’s a saying that “you know who you are from a young age,” and while it may sound cliché, I’ve come to believe it’s one of the realest truths we’re given. Even then, I knew. I was a writer. I was also drawn to the baby aisle - just as instinctively. What I thought was a childlike desire to be a grown-up like my mom was, in reality, the first sign of something deeper. I was born with both the instinct to create and the desire to nurture. Even now, those two traits are the foundation of everything I do.

But like most people who are born knowing what they’re meant to do, I didn’t get a perfect path toward it. I struggled in school from a very young age. I had severe ADHD and undiagnosed dyslexia, which meant I was constantly pulled from class and put in separate rooms for learning assistance. While other kids were building friendships, I was building narratives about myself - that I was different, difficult, not as smart. I became quiet. I internalized everything. I went to a small school where no one else had divorced parents in my grade, and I always felt like the odd one out, even around adults. So I started creating my own little world. A world where I was capable. A world where I was confident. A world where I was finally enough.

In that world, I was always writing.

The first “essay” I ever turned in was in third grade. The assignment asked for a two-page, front-and-back handwritten paper. I wrote six. My teacher didn’t praise me. In fact, she looked at the pages, sighed, and said, “Ava, how am I supposed to grade all of this?” That was the first time I realized that my passion might not make sense to other people. So I learned to protect it. Writing became something sacred. Something I didn’t want to expose to judgment or misinterpretation. It was the one place in my life where I felt truly powerful, and I wasn’t about to let the outside world ruin that for me.

It wasn’t until high school that I let anyone in.

My first blog post was written in the middle of the night. I was in bed scrolling through Instagram when I came across a tribute to a 19-year-old college student who had just taken her own life. She was beautiful. Blonde. Bright. From the outside, she looked like she had everything going for her. But something about the post hit me in a way I couldn’t explain. I didn’t know her, but I cried for her like I did. I cried for her confusion, her pain, and how unfair it all felt. I wrote through my emotion and realizations processing it not as a stranger, but as someone who could deeply relate to feeling like there were no answers. And for the first time, I didn’t just keep it in my journal. I posted it as a blog on Facebook. This young womans story, ignited my desire to share my understandings, not that at 15 I had all the answers, but it felt like a start to making the world a better place.

The response blew me away. People I hadn’t spoken to in years messaged me saying, “You need to be a writer.” For a moment, I felt seen. But the belief that it could be a career still felt far-fetched, unrealistic, almost laughable. I treated writing the way you treat a childhood love - something you think is sweet but temporary. So I kept it close, wrote when I felt inspired, and only shared when I believed there was a clear lesson someone else could benefit from. It still felt too precious to risk.

Years passed. I went to college. I bartended full-time on Broadway in downtown Nashville. And while most people at 19 were trying to figure out their next chapter, I was painfully aware that I was living through the final one for my dad and stepmom. Both of them were dying of cancer. I was going to class, managing bar shifts, and caregiving all at once. Dreaming didn’t feel like an option. All I wanted was a schedule that would keep me close to them, something that didn’t ask too much of me while my world was quietly unraveling. So I did what I knew how to do - I studied journalism. And I kept writing.

That’s when the idea for Diaries of a Broadway Bartender started to form. I didn’t have a plan. I just knew that between grief, chaos, and the reality of life behind the bar, there was a story. I began writing in pieces. And then, on August 24, 2023, my stepmom passed away. Five months later, my dad followed her. Between their deaths, I found myself staring at a half-written book, a potential publishing deal with Simon & Schuster, and absolutely no clue how to finish what I started. I was living alone, overwhelmed, heartbroken, and more lost than I had ever been.

In January 2024 after my father's passing, I hit my lowest point. The book deal was there. The idea was there. But I wasn’t. I had no energy, no motivation, and no sense of direction. I was grieving two lives and an entire version of myself that no longer existed. I searched online for answers, typed “double grief and breakup at the same time” into Quora, and found nothing. That night, I cried myself to sleep. The next morning, I prayed: If you show me the way out, I’ll make sure no one else ever feels this alone without a way through.

A few days later, I walked into a coffee shop I’d never been to before. It was a rare, warm day in February. I sat down with my laptop, and for the first time in weeks, I felt something: space. I started writing again. Slowly. Clumsily. Honestly. That moment became the foundation of my memoir, The Other Side. It was the story I didn’t want to tell, but the one I needed to. A story about healing, surrender, and rediscovering life when everything feels like it’s falling apart.

Since then, everything has changed. I moved to New York. I launched my company, Ava Ink. I started ghostwriting for other authors, offering consulting for first-time writers, and helping people bring their books to life. And now, I’m finally doing the same for myself. On April 14, I’ll be releasing 52 Weeks of Mastering the Art of Feminine Energy, a guided journal for women returning to their essence. On July 7, I’ll release Mastering the Art of Feminine Energy and 365 Days of Rewiring the Brain.

So, why start a blog now?

Because writing saved my life. And this blog is where I’ll keep returning to the pages that changed everything. Some entries will be soft, reflective, and rooted in feminine energy. Others will be centered around brain rewiring, healing, and growth. Some will be for creatives and aspiring authors, with tips and insight on how to build your own body of work. And some will just be for fun - dating stories, NYC moments, and the beautiful mess of being a 24-year-old woman building her dream life from scratch.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you. This is the start of something full-circle. And I have a feeling you’ll find a little piece of yourself here, too.

XO,

Ava