Planning has never been my strong suit.
Honestly? I’ve always been more of a “sit down, open the document, and let the characters start yelling” kind of writer. Good thing I love writing, because I don’t always need a plan to get words on the page. Some pretty damn famous authors have pantsed their way through epic novels, so clearly chaos can produce magic.
But then there was Savage Redemption.
My current work in progress started years ago, back when I still had to wait an entire week for the next episode of Sons of Anarchy. The second the idea hit me, I knew one thing for sure: this was going to be an MC romance series.
That was it.
That was the whole plan.
Naturally, I tried to sit down and pants the fucking thing.
And then my ADHD brain immediately went, “Cool, but what about book four?”
Because apparently writing one book wasn’t enough. My brain had to start throwing what-ifs at me like it was trying to win a damn dodgeball tournament.
What if I miss a major detail in book one that I’ll need later?
What if I introduce someone wrong?
What if a character’s backstory changes?
What if I publish the first book and realize I needed to plant something three books ago?
Once a book is published, I can’t exactly go back and duct tape continuity over the cracks.
So I changed tack.
I needed a plan.
And because I have ADHD, “a plan” did not mean a cute little outline and a few character notes.
Oh no.
It meant hyper-focusing like my life depended on it.
This was pre-AI, so I spent countless hours online hunting down images that matched the world in my head. The necklace my heroine wore. The bikes my guys rode. The kind of boots, rings, tattoos, houses, bars, roads, and weapons that made the Savage Vipers feel real.
That obsession eventually became a five-inch binder full of photos, notes, printed inspiration, scribbled ideas, and half-started handwritten scenes.
A whole-ass chaos binder.
And I carted that damn thing with me from Idaho to Oregon.
At one point, I even completed a rough draft. It had the bones of the story, but looking back? It also hit every overused trope straight on the head. The story I actually wanted to tell was buried under all that bullshit.
The biggest proof of that was my heroine.
She started out as Rae, a woman running from an abusive relationship who cried every other paragraph. She had pain, sure, but she didn’t have much fight. She didn’t stand up for herself. She didn’t leave a mark.
Now?
Now I have Rylee.
Rylee is the kind of woman who would rather crawl through glass than ask anyone for help. She was raised to be a shieldmaiden, taught to survive, taught to protect what’s hers, taught never to move like prey.
But she left that life behind because she wanted something different for her daughter. Something safer. Something that didn’t involve men in leather thinking they owned every woman who crossed their path.
That change cracked the whole story open.
Monster changed too.
He was always meant to be my alpha male. He was always protective, dangerous, and willing to throw down. But in those earlier versions, he didn’t truly feel like Monster.
Sure, he could fight.
But so could every other man in the Savage Vipers.
Now, Monster is something sharper. More brutal. More broken. A tortured soul who has done things he can’t wash off and still shows up when it matters. He isn’t just the love interest. He is a man Rylee once knew, a man she left behind, and a man who may be the only one dangerous enough to stand between her and what’s coming.
But the biggest transformation has been the club itself.
The Savage Vipers aren’t just background noise anymore. They aren’t random leather-clad men filling space around the main couple. They’re family, history, loyalty, violence, grief, secrets, and future books waiting to happen.
I’m focusing hard on building those relationships now. The friendships. The rivalries. The old wounds. The brotherhood. The women who hold their own in a world that doesn’t make it easy. The kind of interwoven cast that can carry a series for as many books as I’m lucky enough to write.
And that, honestly, has been one of the wildest parts of this process.
My ADHD made this book harder.
No question.
It made the planning overwhelming. It made the shiny new ideas dangerous. It made the what-ifs loud as hell. It made me want to chase every thread, every image, every character, every possible future plot twist until I was drowning in my own damn story.
But it also helped me build this world.
The hyper-focus. The obsession with details. The need to understand every scar, tattoo, bike, betrayal, and backstory. The inability to stop asking “but what if?”
That’s part of why Savage Redemption survived.
Not because I had a perfect plan.
Not because I did it the “right” way.
But because I kept coming back to it.
A decade later, I have a first draft of a world that finally feels alive. A heroine I’m proud of. A hero who earned the name Monster. A club full of characters I can’t wait to destroy, redeem, love, torture, and rebuild.
And for the first time, I can honestly say this story isn’t buried anymore.
It clawed its way out.
And I’m proud as hell to put my name on it.
So welcome to the messy middle of Savage Redemption. The chaos binder may have evolved, the characters may have grown teeth, and my ADHD brain may still be throwing grenades into my outline, but this world is finally becoming what it was always supposed to be.
Badass.
Brutal.
Spicy as hell.
And mine.
How Savage Redemption Survived My ADHD Brain
