Category Parlor

It chose me They always talk about finding your voice. They never talk about when you finally stop running from it. Back in the day when I was a wee gal of a romance writer, I tried to write sunshine. I’m sure you’re familiar…

You’re Not Getting Out Alive, So Live Epically, a letter from the Velvet Parlor The Velvet Parlor is where the veil thins—a quiet room lined in candle smoke and half-kept promises. Here, I write by firelight and intuition, letting the…

A letter to my own writing vulnerability The first voice I lost was my own. I’m still writing her back to life. People read my Substack posts and say, in a roundabout way: “Dahlia… you sound different.” And me, ever the dramatist,…