WELCOME to my BLOG ...."Summarizing Stahl"
Welcome to my corner of the world—where language comes alive, stories take shape, and inspiration is always within reach. As a longtime Language Arts teacher and passionate writer, I’m here to share lessons from the classroom, chapters from my own creative journey, and moments of meaning that connect us all. Whether you're a fellow educator, aspiring author, or curious soul, I’m glad you’re here.
My Son and I: Polar OppositeWriters (And Somehow the Perfect Team)
My son and I are complete opposites. I’m the father of an amazing ten year old boy who brings more energy into a room than I ever thought possible, and I mean that in the best and most exhausting way. He has severe ADHD and ODD, and while some may see those as obstacles, in our house, we see them as part of what makes him exactly who he is. We celebrate him, we embrace his challenges, and we work every day to help him see them not as weaknesses, but as strengths in progress. I always tell him, the struggles he faces now will one day become his greatest assets. Sometimes he rolls his eyes at me, but I stand by it.Now here’s where things get interesting… writing.I love to write. He sees it as a form of torture. A carefully designed, highly inconvenient torture. So naturally, school writing assignments are our battleground. But instead of forcing it, we found our middle ground, speaking. If you sit with him and let him talk, he can create incredible stories full of imagination and detail. It’s all there. But the moment it has to go onto paper, it gets stuck.So we talk. A lot.I let him tell his story out loud, I show him how good it is, and then with a little convincing and a lot of dad patience, we work together to get those words onto the page. Not perfectly, not quickly, but honestly.And in that process, I’ve realized something. I’m not just teaching him how to write, he’s teaching me how to see the world differently. His voice, his energy, his way of thinking, it’s powerful. And it deserves to be heard, whether it starts out spoken or written.I truly believe we are only given what we are capable of handling. And the struggles we face today often become the very things that guide us forward.For him, that journey is just beginning.And for me, I get the privilege of walking it with him… one conversation at a time.
A Question for My Readers…
What do you look for in a strong female main character? Do you celebrate her successes and root for her rise, or are you more drawn to her struggles, the moments where she’s pushed, tested, and forced to become something more?
Do you prefer her as the hero standing in the light, or do you lean toward the darker edge, the one who blurs the lines and makes you question everything? A strong female lead has the power to drive a story and elevate it, so what makes one unforgettable to you?
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So… Am I an Author Now? (Because That Feels Weird to Say Out Loud)
I’m going to be honest. I still stumble a little when someone calls me an author. Like… who are you talking to? Because in my head, I’ve been a teacher for 25 years. That identity isn’t just something I do, it’s something permanently tattooed onto who I am. I walk into a room and instinctively want to model, explain, and probably hand someone a rubric. That’s just who I am. And here’s the funny part, teachers write all the time. We write sample essays, mentor texts, examples, anchor charts. I’ve basically been ghostwriting for imaginary students for decades. So yes, I’ve always been writing. But creating, that’s different.
It wasn’t until about ten years ago, when my son was born, that something shifted. That’s when I stopped writing for function and started creating for myself. That’s when stories started to take shape, not just paragraphs, but full worlds. Worlds like The Paper Cut Manifesto, and an entire trilogy, Tides of Renderis. Yes, a whole trilogy, sitting quietly on my hard drive like it was grounded. For ten years, these stories lived in digital solitude. No audience. No feedback. Just me, occasionally rereading them thinking, “Wow, this is actually pretty good,” and then immediately closing the file like it was a secret I wasn’t ready to share.
Because here’s the truth I’ve come to believe. Writing can be lonely, and publishing can be terrifying. When you’re the only one reading your work, your stories don’t really exist in the world yet. You can’t talk about them. You can’t share them. You can’t even say, “Wait until you get to this part,” because no one is getting to that part. It’s like hosting a party where you cooked everything, decorated beautifully, and then never sent out the invitations. And at some point, I realized I didn’t want my stories to be lonely anymore. So I did the scary thing. I let one out.
I released The Paper Cut Manifesto into the world. And now, three months into this journey, here’s my honest review. Has it been enjoyable? Yes. Has it been nerve wracking and slightly anxiety inducing? Also yes. Has it been dangerously exciting in a way I didn’t expect? Oh, absolutely. I’m still in the baby stages of this whole publishing thing, and I try not to obsess over numbers or sales or whether some mysterious algorithm will suddenly decide today is my viral moment, although if it does, I won’t argue. What I’m most proud of is something much simpler. I finally let one of my stories out of the dungeon of my hard drive. It’s out there now, living, breathing, being read by actual humans. And that matters more than I thought it would.
So if you ask me today, do I consider myself an author, I’d say yes, but not in the traditional, polished, I’ve-always-known-this-was-my-label kind of way. I think of it more like this. I’m on an adventure. A slightly chaotic, mildly terrifying, deeply exciting adventure where I get to create worlds, share them, and maybe, just maybe, make someone feel something along the way. Will I one day confidently say, “Hi, I’m a teacher and an author”? Maybe. But for now, I’m okay living in this in-between space. Because at the end of the day, the goal hasn’t changed from my classroom to my writing. If I can affect someone, make them think, or make them feel something, then I’m doing my job. And honestly, that sounds like both a teacher and an author to me.
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Why flawed characters are the most realistic
Joe Goldberg from You is one of the best examples of a flawed character because he completely messes with you as a reader or viewer. On paper, he’s everything you should reject. He’s obsessive, controlling, manipulative… dangerous. There’s no debating that. And yet somehow, as you follow his story, you catch yourself leaning in. Not because you agree with him, but because you understand how his mind is working. You hear his thoughts, his reasoning, the way he twists situations to justify what he’s doing, and for a second, you almost get it. That’s the uncomfortable part.
He’s not written as just a villain. He’s written as a person who believes he’s the hero of his own story. And that’s what makes him feel real. Because real people don’t walk around thinking they’re the bad guy. They justify, they rationalize, they convince themselves they’re right. Joe just takes that to an extreme. That’s why he works. Not because we root for him, but because we recognize how easily perspective can distort reality.
And I think that’s why I’m so drawn to flawed characters in my own writing. I’ve never been interested in creating the perfect version of a role, the perfect hero, the perfect lead who always says and does the right thing. That doesn’t feel real to me. I like leaving wiggle room. I like characters who don’t always get it right, who make questionable choices, who surprise you, even frustrate you. Because that’s where the story lives. Not in perfection, but in the mess of it all.
My Brain: A Soup of
Soundbites and Sensory Overload
Okay, writers, let's talk inspiration. Where does it come from? For me, it's a multi-faceted process, a constant sifting and sorting through the detritus of everyday life. I've always told my students this, and I stand by it: inspiration is everywhere, you just have to know how to look (and listen!).
My first tactic is eavesdropping… well, not really eavesdropping. Let's call it "ambient listening." I'm not intentionally trying to pry into private conversations, but I'm hyper-aware of the snippets of dialogue that float around me. A snatch of argument on the bus, a child's nonsensical babble in the grocery store, a cashier's exasperated sigh – I soak it all up.
I keep a little notebook (physical, because I'm old-school like that) specifically for these overheard gems. Things like, "Well, that's a fine kettle of fish," or "He just stared at the wall like it owed him money." Seemingly insignificant phrases, right? But sometimes, buried in the ordinary, is the seed of something extraordinary. Sometimes a single, perfectly delivered line can spark a character's entire backstory. I might not know why someone is staring at the wall like it owes them money, but I bet I can invent a compelling reason!
MEMORY LANE: Do you stroll it while you write?
Little fragments are like puzzle pieces. Sometimes they fit together instantly to form a complete picture. Other times, they sit in my notebook for months, even years, waiting for the perfect context to emerge. It's like having a linguistic magpie's nest – full of shiny little treasures, just waiting to be incorporated into something bigger.
Beyond overheard conversations, my memories are a constant source of fuel. I constantly take trips down memory lane, revisiting both the joyous and the painful moments. That feeling of pure, unadulterated freedom I felt riding my bike down a hill as a kid? The crushing humiliation of messing up my lines in the school play? The quiet comfort of my grandmother's kitchen? All of it is fodder. I try not to shy away from the uncomfortable memories because often, the most powerful stories are born from pain, from loss, from confronting our vulnerabilities.
And then there's the visual aspect. I'm a highly visual person, and I rely heavily on color and imagery when I'm writing. If I'm writing a scene in a haunted house, I don't just think about it – I see it. I see the peeling wallpaper, stained with damp, and the sickly green glow of moonlight filtering through dusty windows. I imagine the oppressive darkness punctuated by flashes of crimson and bruised purple, reflecting the fear and unease of the characters. Color helps me paint a richer, more immersive picture for my readers.
MOVIE in my MIND
Above all else, and this is the single most important piece of advice I can offer, is to visualize. Before I even put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard), I play the scene in my head like a movie. I see my characters interacting – their gestures, their expressions, the way their clothes hang on their bodies. I see the setting – the shifting shadows, the play of light and dark, the subtle details that bring the world to life.
Think of it as directing your internal blockbuster. You're not just writing words, you're crafting an experience. This mental "movie" is what allows me to capture the nuances of movement, emotion, and atmosphere that make a story truly resonate with the reader. It's what transforms a collection of words into a living, breathing world.
So, go out there and listen, remember, visualize, and most importantly, collect. Collect the funny, the sad, the strange. Collect the colors, the sounds, the smells. Collect the world around you, and let it fuel your imagination. You never know what treasures you might uncover. You never know what stories are waiting to be told.
From Screen to Page… What Do You Think?
Do you enjoy reading book adaptations of your favorite TV shows or movies? I’m a big fan of franchises that don’t stop at the screen but continue their stories through books. I’ve spent plenty of time diving into Star Wars and Buffy the Vampire Slayer novels, and I love seeing those worlds expand beyond what we originally watched. There’s something exciting about continuing the adventure in a new way. That said, I do have one stipulation, I’m not a fan when books suddenly introduce brand new rules or lore out of nowhere. I like when those elements are first hinted at or shown on screen, and then expanded in book form.
One area I’m still torn on is new characters introduced only in the books. On one hand, I understand the creative freedom of imagining them yourself. On the other, there’s a part of my brain that just wants a face to go with the name, something familiar to latch onto. Maybe that’s the lazy side of me, but it’s real. So I’m curious, how do you feel about stories moving from screen to page? Do you enjoy the expansion, or do you prefer to keep those worlds where they started?
When the Pencil Becomes a Sword Fight: Teaching My Son to Write
You’d think that being a Language Arts teacher for over two decades would prepare me to guide my 9-year-old son through a simple writing assignment. You’d be wrong. I had dreams of sitting together at the kitchen table, sipping iced tea, exchanging literary insights like a mini Hemingway and his slightly more caffeinated editor. Instead, I found myself negotiating with a pint-sized lawyer who argued that writing one paragraph about "what he did this weekend" was equivalent to climbing Mount Everest—barefoot, in the rain, with no snacks.
The assignment was clear. The resistance? Epic. He sharpened his pencil like a samurai preparing for battle, only to use it as a lightsaber five minutes later. I offered prompts. He countered with sighs, floor flops, and one lengthy discussion about whether our dog would be considered a reliable narrator. But somewhere between “I went to Grandpa’s” and “Can I be done now?”—we struck gold. A sentence. Then another. And finally, a full paragraph… complete with punctuation, a beginning, middle, and end, and yes, even some voice. Victory never tasted so sweet—mainly because it was immediately followed by ice cream. For both of us.
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Why The Woman In Me Left Me Wanting More
Don’t get me wrong—I genuinely enjoyed The Woman In Me. Britney’s early life and rise to fame were some of the most captivating parts of the book. Reading about her childhood, her family dynamics, and the whirlwind of her teen stardom felt like finally hearing the story behind the tabloid headlines we all grew up seeing. There’s no doubt that Britney has lived through things most of us couldn’t imagine, and I was rooting for her on every single page.
But as much as I appreciated the book, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. At times, it felt like her voice—the authentic, unfiltered Britney—was just out of reach. There were moments where I sensed she wanted to say more, particularly about the people and the industry that wronged her, but for whatever reason, she pulled back. I understand a ghostwriter helped craft the narrative, and I respect the collaborative nature of memoir writing, but I still believe writers—especially ones reclaiming their voice—shouldn't be silenced or softened. Whether it was legal constraints, emotional exhaustion, or pressure from the industry, I felt like the most powerful parts of her story were the ones she was still holding close to the chest.
That said, I still think The Woman In Me is an important and worthwhile read. It’s a raw, emotional account of a woman who’s spent most of her life fighting to be heard. I just can’t shake the belief that Britney has so much more to tell us—more truth, more pain, and maybe even more healing. Maybe one day, we’ll get that second book, one that’s fully and unapologetically her. And when that day comes, I’ll be the first in line to read it.
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Naming Characters: Or How I Accidentally Gave a Hero My Student’s Name
Coming up with first names for my book characters? Easy. Too easy. I realized quickly that my brain is a chaotic filing cabinet of names from years of teaching, favorite books, TV shows, and the occasional "name-that-baby" rabbit hole I fall down at 2 a.m. My protagonist might be named after a student who wrote the most beautiful essay on empathy I’ve ever read—while the villain? Let’s just say they might share a name with that kid who turned in blank tests but still asked if he could "bump his grade." I’ve shamelessly Frankensteined names from movie characters and gave them slight twists. Cora Jo? Part Southern belle, part sci-fi rebel queen. Bennett? A name that sounds both poetic and like he could fix your car. It’s a science, really.
Of course, I wait for the moment when a former student messages me and says, “Wait… is that character named after me?” Will I casually pretend like it’s just a coincidence and not that I stared at the seating chart for inspiration during writer’s block? There’s something strangely satisfying about giving life to names you’ve heard a thousand times in roll call and now seeing them face emotional collapse in chapter eight. Naming characters is the literary equivalent of casting your own movie—and yes, sometimes your old principal makes a cameo as the wise old sorcerer.
Screen First… Then the Book? Or Not at All?
I’ve always been fascinated by what happens when we watch a story before we read it… or sometimes never read it at all.
This has happened to me with a few recent titles, We Were Liars, Where the Crawdads Sing, All Her Fault, and His and Hers. Lately I’ve had a little more time in my schedule, so I found myself watching more than I usually do, and somehow I kept landing on shows and movies that were adapted from books. I enjoyed all four. But here’s where it gets interesting. With Where the Crawdads Sing and We Were Liars, the second I finished watching, I felt this immediate pull to go out, buy the books, and experience the story again, this time on the page. I did exactly that, and now both of those books have a permanent spot on my bookshelf.
But then came All Her Fault and His and Hers. I really enjoyed both, especially All Her Fault. His and Hers I liked too, just slightly less. But when the credits rolled… that same pull wasn’t there. I didn’t feel the need to go out and buy the books. And that’s what I can’t stop thinking about.
What creates that difference?
Is it the way the story is told on screen? The pacing, the tone, the way it’s filmed? Is it the actors, the faces we now associate with the characters, making it feel complete already? Is it the dialogue, the changes made in adaptation that either enhance or limit what we connect to? Or is it something simpler… something more personal? Is it just about how each individual viewer processes a story and whether it leaves that lingering need for more?
Because for me, sometimes I finish watching something and feel like I’ve only scratched the surface… and other times, I feel like I’ve already experienced the version of the story I needed.
And I can’t help but wonder…
What makes us want to turn the page after we’ve already seen the ending?
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What The Golden Girls Taught Me About Writing
One of my all time favorite shows is The Golden Girls. As a kid, I used to watch it with my nana and my pop pop’s sisters. Looking back now as an adult, I sometimes wonder… what were they thinking letting me watch that? Those women lived life on the colorful side, to say the least. But also, let’s be honest, as a gay man, I feel like becoming a super fan of The Golden Girls is basically a rite of passage.
One episode has always stuck with me, the one where Blanche decides she’s going to become a writer. She locks herself in, stays up for days, pours everything into her manuscript, only to have it rejected by publishers with a simple form letter. Of course, Blanche is convinced her work is brilliant, the kind of book that will, in her words, “be taught in universities.” Meanwhile, what she’s actually producing slowly turns into complete nonsense. Total spiral. And of course, hilarity follows, including egg yolks in a bag and the usual jabs at Rose being from St. Olaf, which somehow never get old.
But here’s the thing… as funny as that episode is, it hits a little differently now.
Because I’ve been there.
When I was writing The Paper Cut Manifesto, there were moments where I would take an idea and just run with it… too far. I’d spiral into chapters packed with details, backstory, and ideas that, at the time, felt brilliant. Important. Necessary. And then later, I’d look at it and realize… this is way too much. It wasn’t serving the story, it was just me getting lost in my own head.
And I think that’s something every writer goes through.
We become protective of what we create. We convince ourselves that every word matters, every detail has a purpose. But the truth is, part of the process is learning when to pull back. When to listen. When to accept that maybe something we love… isn’t actually working.
Because here’s the lesson, and yes, I learned it partly from Blanche Devereaux of all people.
Being open to feedback, especially early on, can save you a lot of time later. A lot of rewriting. A lot of unnecessary spiraling into “this is genius” territory when it might actually just be… egg yolks in a bag.
And honestly, that’s a writing lesson I’ll take with me every time.
