The Pattern Shop: Excerpts from The Prologue & Self-publishing Updates

Meet Eleanorah's Grandfather and vote on your favorite butterfly sticker! 🦋

Hi! If you're new to Heartbeats, welcome. I'm Mariah, and I write about motherhood, creativity, and the messy, beautiful process of becoming. This is part of a new series about my debut novel, The Pattern Shop, where I share detailed excerpts and behind-the-scenes info from my self-publishing journey! 📝

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Hello.

Last week, I shared the moment, 12 years ago, when I knew I’d write a book, even though I had no idea how or what it would be about.

It wasn’t until I’d spent years with these stories, living and re-living them, finding new containers and vocabulary to honor their truth, that I finally realized it’s about belonging and homecoming. Belonging to ourselves and coming home to each other, over and over again.

And, of course, the messy, tumultuous, transformative paths that lead us there.

As I tried to make sense of the experiences, conversations, and relationships that were changing me, from the battle cry of “Ya, basta!” in the deep jungle of southern Mexico, to the eerie, silent internment camp turned museum in France, to the resilient, joy-filled villages in Ghana, certain patterns and parallels emerged.

Saying goodbye to my students, after living in Ghana for five months. Teiman, Ghana 2014.

Patterns of disconnection, separation, and fragile hope that I recognized went as far back as my childhood. Witnessing the path of human history as it unfolded across centuries and continents, gave me clarity on my part in that unfolding. It helped me see constellations of connection I couldn’t see before.

Through writing these stories, I realized that once we understand the patterns, we can change them.

The shop in this story is real— as is the character of Eleanorah’s grandfather. I spent my childhood wandering through its dusty aisles, watching him work surrounded by heavy machinery, making molds for manufacturing factories. At the same time, he was also an artist, carving simple bowls, lamps, and bells from fallen branches of trees, brought to life under his careful hands.

One of his beautifully carved vases, all made from burls—diseased formations on trees he collected with care.

This juxtaposition—the meticulously calculated blueprints and false sense of control we’re promised by conforming to others’ formulas or guidelines for life, versus the natural, cyclical, and utterly unique patterns of intuition, vulnerability, and connection that make us come alive— was first illustrated in my grandpa’s shop.

That’s where The Pattern Shop starts, at the very beginning with a young girl in her grandfather’s shop, desperately seeking answers to life’s big questions, trying to make sense of her family’s pain, dreaming of the possibility of love.

I’m so excited to introduce you to him, and to us. Here’s a peek inside…

The door was unlocked but heavy. Eleanorah pushed her way inside with the full weight of her body, immediately feeling the warmth, her eyes adjusting to the dim light filtered through tall, narrow windows. Particles of dust danced in the air like snowflakes tickling her nose, carrying the scent of fresh wood shavings.

A low hum stopped in the distance. “Mo chuisle, is that you?”

The lyrical words resonated through the shop like a prism of color. Her Grandpa Joseph was the only one who called her that, like a secret language between them. He told her it meant, pulse of my heart in Gaelic, and that his grandfather used to call him that, too.

“Yes, Grandpa!” Eleanorah followed a trail of chalky footsteps through rows of scattered tools and machinery until she found him hunched over a workbench. His glasses were on the tip of his nose, and an array of parts and papers strewn about, as if a grand adventure were about to begin.

“There’s my favorite granddaughter!” His smile stretched to his earlobes. She ran toward him and he scooped her up, lifting her high above his head. Laughing, she spread her arms wide, as if she had wings.

“How was school?” He set her down gently.

Eleanorah’s brow furrowed. She hated her new school and wanted to stay home, like she used to before “The Year of The Explosion,” when her dad lost his job and her mom had to go back to work. The first few weeks she’d come home every day, begging her mother to change her mind and keep homeschooling. Eleanorah tried to explain that the other kids were mean and constantly made fun of her long, red hair and hand-me-down clothes, something she couldn’t change even if she wanted to.

Her grandfather’s eyes softened, reading the tumult on her face. “Would you like to see what I’m making?” He pulled a small item from his front pocket, brushing the sawdust away with his thumb. “Can you keep a secret?” He lowered his voice for dramatic effect, motioning her closer.

“I’m making this for your grandmother’s birthday, as a surprise.” A smooth, mahogany heart, carved from two small pieces of wood rested in his palm. In the middle, where the two halves came together, was a butterfly.

“When it’s finished, it’s going to be a necklace,” he beamed. “Would you like to hold it?”

She nodded, cupping it carefully with tingling fingers. “What kind of butterfly is it?”

“It’s a Monarch. See?” He tilted the heart in her hands, watching the light catch the gold and orange shimmer of wings. “They’re your grandma’s favorite. Every spring she waits for them to come back after a long winter.”

It was her Grandma Esther who taught Eleanorah the names of the flowers and how to sing to them, too. Like sweet honeysuckle and lavender colored lilacs. Sticky milkweed, meadow sage, verbenas, and bright red zinnias. Her grandfather took care to plant them every year so that her grandmother, who was bound to a wheelchair, could watch the bees and butterflies flit from one petal to the next through the window.

“Where do the Monarchs go, in the wintertime?”

“They fly south to stay warm and hibernate. Did you know they can fly 50-100 miles in one day? Some of them fly as far as Mexico to a special forest of oyamel trees.”

Eleanorah imagined flying away with them. Maybe there was somewhere with other kids who looked more like her. A family she fit in with.

“But...how do they find their way back when it’s spring again?”

He paused.

“They listen, I think. To the wind and the currents. To the flight patterns of their ancestors. The butterflies that fly south in the winter are not the same ones that fly north in the spring. But somehow, they’re connected,” he winked.

“So the ones that leave never come back?” Her eyes blurred with tears.

“No,” he spoke kindly. “They die and something new is born in their place.”

She rubbed her eyes and gazed into his. A calm blue, like tidal pools.

“With great love comes great freedom. It’s important to remember where we’ve come from, Ellie. Even if we choose not to go back,” he paused. The patterns show us who we used to be and who we can become. That’s why I’m giving your grandmother this gift. When we truly love someone we must give them wings to fly and trust they will find their way back to us, even if it’s in a new form.”

She looked again at the butterfly in her hands.

Would she ever have a pair of wings that belonged just to her? Or someone who loved her enough to let her go?

—The Pattern Shop

The Monarch butterfly is a recurring symbol in The Pattern Shop, connected to themes of migration, transformation, and trusting ancient flight paths that lead us home. To help celebrate the release of the book (coming near the end of 2025 or early 2026!) I’m creating stickers to share with readers. Which design speaks to you most? Vote on your favorite below!

Option 1

Option 2

Option 3

Option 4

Self-publishing updates:

1. I sent out a brief to five Reedsy editors last week and got some really encouraging, positive feedback on my sample pages and brief!

2. After messaging several and comparing quotes/sample edits, I hired Eva, who will do a light developmental edit before moving on to the final copy-edit, hopefully completed by the end of October!

3. I reached out to a photographer friend to do some headshots in Sept/Oct for the back cover and landing pages I’ll be making on my website and Substack for the book.

4. I’ve started looking for cover designers on Reedsy and plan on submitting a proposal next week!

5. I’ve started collecting contact info for debut authors, magazines, and others to send Advanced Reader Copies for possible blurbs and promotion. If you know of an opportunity or connection, I’d love to reach out!

Thank you for letting me bring you along on this journey. Sharing behind-the-scenes details and the heart of this book with you is such a gift. I’m flooded with creative ideas and inspiration for making this whole project one of sacred collaboration. I can’t wait to watch it unfold together. 💗

I’d love to answer any questions or insights you have in the comments!

You can also tune into our weekly Heartbeats Writers’ Chat for community, resources, and encouragement, no matter where you are on your journey. ✏️

All my love,
Mariah

P.S. In case you haven’t caught the vibe yet, I’m leaving Taylor Swift-like breadcrumbs, clues, and backstory for you to discover before holding The Pattern Shop in your hands.

Here’s another little treasure…Read “These Hands of Mine,” a sweet poem about aging with the one you adore, inspired by my grandfather and grandmother’s love story. You’ll read more about them in The Pattern Shop! 💗