May Musings: Romance, Rituals & a Cat Named Molly
Every month has its own kind of romance, but May? May feels like it’s been ghostwritten by a poet with a sunbeam addiction. The breeze smells like possibilities (and sunscreen), I keep craving honeycomb ice cream like it’s a coping mechanism, and Molly—the cat-shaped chaos agent in my life—is shedding like she’s auditioning for a summer fur coat commercial.
Here’s a peek into my not-so-structured life this May—equal parts writerly whimsy, seaside therapy, and feline mischief.
Morning Mood: Sea Breezes & Side-Eye
Woke up this morning to the soft thud of a plant being shoved off a windowsill. Molly’s way of saying, “Rise, human. There are sunbeams to chase.”
Coffee brewed, windows opened, and the scent of sea air rushed in like it had urgent news. I did half-hearted Pilates while mentally drafting a steamy scene. My multitasking was impressive. My balance? Less so.
Skincare was minimal but smug: SPF, tinted balm, and brows fluffed to main-character standards. I looked like someone who might stop and kiss a stranger in a rom-com montage.
Writing Life: Deadlines, Daydreams & Dialogue That Behaves
I’m deep into edits for a book that’s all slow burn and second chances. Ocracoke Island has become my fictional playground, and my characters finally started talking to each other again—in full sentences, no less. I wrote this line today:
“He didn’t say he missed her, but his silence did.”
Immediately followed by a solid five minutes of emotional recovery and three chocolate biscuits.
Word count: respectable.
Sanity: debatable.
Molly: sprawled across the keyboard mid-scene, adding a rogue “;;;;;;;;;;;;;” to chapter four. A dramatic flair I didn’t ask for.
May Days = Main Character Energy
Went for a walk when my brain started braining too hard. The tide was halfway out, and the light was that perfect shade of golden hour where even seagulls look ethereal—though one was aggressively mugging a toddler for their chips, which felt deeply metaphorical. Possibly for deadlines. Possibly for me.
Walks are when I untangle plot messes and make dramatic glances toward the horizon like I’m in a BBC period drama. A couple walked past holding hands, and I had the audacity to be jealous of my own fictional lovers.
Molly’s May Memoirs (as transcribed by her humble assistant)
- Mood: Serene menace.
- Achievements: Plant homicide, keyboard disruption, silent judgment.
- Quote of the Month (if she could talk): “The only deadline that matters is dinner.”
Molly is currently curled in a sunbeam like the coastal queen she is, purring like she pays the rent. I envy her commitment to living romantically—without writing a single word.
Romantic Rituals & Soft Obsessions
This month’s self-care moments have been tiny but mighty:
- Crocheted another silk scrunchie in pastel peach. Wore it. Felt like a woman with her life together (briefly).
- Lit a lavender candle while editing a kiss scene. The vibes were immaculate.
- Rediscovered the joy of taking a book to the beach and getting sand absolutely everywhere. Worth it...not on your life...
Currently:
- Reading: Don’t Tell by Karen Rose (intense and excellent)
- Listening to: Michael Bublé – Higher
- Watching: Reacher (for “plot” reasons)
- Craving: Ice cream. Always ice cream.
- Thinking About: How sometimes the quietest moments in a love story are the ones that land the hardest.
Final Thoughts
May has been soft and slightly chaotic. The writing is flowing (ish), the sun is out (mostly), and I’m starting to believe again in the magic of ordinary days.
Romance isn’t just a genre—it’s a way of noticing things: light on the water, a good line of dialogue, the weight of a cat in your lap when you're trying to work. It’s in the rituals, the sea air, the scrunchies, and the snacks.
Until next month—
Write with love. Live with softness. And never trust a quiet cat.
With sandy toes and a full heart,
Dilys x
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
