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Tabitha Revalee – Author
Fantasy, Romance, and Found Family for Every Reader
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Tabitha Revalee believes the best stories are born where shadows, love, and rebellion entwine. A lifelong daydreamer who spends her daylight hours in the corporate world, she saves her nights for writing about resilience and the power of found family. Whispers of the Shadow Crown is her debut novel, a story carried in her heart long before it reached the page. She makes her home in Charleston, South Carolina, where evenings are best spent with a book, herbal tea, and the laughter of those she loves most.
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The beginning of a new year always carries a certain pressure to declare big goals, make bold promises, and map out every step ahead. This year, I’m doing something different.
I’m starting quietly.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve spent time reflecting on what last year taught me as an author. I learned how much consistency matters. How meaningful it is to support other indie writers in real, tangible ways. How stories don’t thrive when they’re rushed, but when they’re given space to breathe.
This year, my focus is simple and intentional.
I’m continuing work on my second book, returning to the page with more confidence than urgency. I’m revisiting drafts with care, allowing revisions to deepen the story rather than dilute it. Alongside my own writing, I’m committing to reading more, especially books by indie authors whose voices deserve to be heard and celebrated.
There are practical pieces happening, too. My debut novel is being recorded as an audiobook, which is both surreal and deeply exciting. I’m also laying the groundwork for future projects, exploring cover art, formatting tools, and ways to place my books in local shops. None of it feels rushed. All of it feels earned.
More than anything, this year is about intention.
Writing with purpose.
Building community without comparison.
Choosing sustainability over burnout.If you’ve read my work, supported it, or simply found your way here – thank YOU. Every page turned, message sent, or recommendation shared means more than I can easily put into words.
I’m looking forward to what this year will hold, one steady chapter at a time.
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The new year doesn’t always arrive with fireworks. Sometimes it comes quietly – between coffee refills, unfinished drafts, and the steady return to the page. That’s how this year feels to me. Less about declaring something new, and more about choosing what I’m willing to carry forward.
2025 was a year of learning how to stay.
I learned that showing up doesn’t always look pretty. Some days it’s a few hundred words. Some days it’s reading instead of writing. Some days it’s resting because pushing through would cost more than it gives. But staying, coming back to the story again and again, matters more than perfection ever could.
This year, I’m releasing the need to rush.
Stories take the time they take. Creativity doesn’t bloom under pressure, and I’m no longer interested in forcing momentum just to say I’m moving. I want my work to feel intentional, not hurried. Honest, not optimized.
What I am carrying into 2026 is trust.
Trust in my characters. Trust in my voice. Trust that slow progress is still progress. Trust that writing can coexist with real life—the messy, demanding, beautiful parts of it—without requiring sacrifice at the altar of productivity.
I’m also carrying gratitude.
For readers who reach out and say a line stayed with them. For fellow writers building quietly beside me. For the moments when the story surprises me and reminds me why I started in the first place.
This year, my goal isn’t to be louder.
It’s to be steadier. To write with care. To finish what I start. To let stories unfold the way they’re meant to, without forcing an ending before it’s ready.
If you’re stepping into this year carrying something of your own, a story, a hope, a slow-burning dream – I see you.
Here’s to a year of quiet consistency.
Of showing up honestly.
Of choosing with intention. -
From the outside, the holidays look like the perfect season for creativity — twinkle lights, warm drinks, quiet evenings, and the promise of slower days. From the inside of a writer’s life, though, the holidays are layered with motion and emotion. Schedules fill instead of empty. The house is louder. The budget stretches. The heart carries both joy and weight at the same time. Writing doesn’t unfold in cinematic stillness; it sneaks in through the cracks of real life. It happens between errands, after dishes are done, while dinner is in the oven, or in the quiet moments before sleep when a scene absolutely refuses to be ignored. Holiday writing isn’t polished or aesthetic — it’s persistent.
There is also a quiet guilt that often follows writers through this season. Guilt for not meeting word-count goals. Guilt for wanting to disappear into a story when family is close by. Guilt for losing routine when everything around you is already demanding more. The truth is, the creative mind does not turn off simply because the calendar says December. It lingers in the background while life is lived in the foreground, patiently waiting for moments of stillness to surface again. Some days the story feels loud. Other days it feels distant. Both are normal. Both belong to the process.
One of the most comforting truths I’ve learned is that the story does not punish you for choosing life. It does not vanish when you step away to be human. It waits. It stays warm and unfinished and quietly alive in the back of your mind. You do not lose it when you pause. You do not fail it by resting. You carry it with you even when you are not actively shaping it on the page. And when you return — whether after one day or one month — it opens back up to you exactly where you left it.
Sometimes the holidays even make the writing deeper, even if no words are being typed at all. This season is saturated with memory, longing, tenderness, grief, gratitude, and reflection. Writers absorb these emotions instinctively. Even in rest, the creative spirit is gathering texture and truth. The conversations, the quiet moments, the losses, the laughter — all of it settles into the subconscious and eventually surfaces in the work. The story grows not only through drafting but through living.
Consistency during the holidays looks different than it does the rest of the year, and that is not a failure — it is a shift. It looks like keeping the document open even when progress is slow. It looks like letting the story live gently in your thoughts. It looks like returning when you are able rather than forcing when you are empty. If your writing feels fragmented right now, you are not behind. You are simply in a season that asks you to be present in different ways. The story will meet you again when the quiet returns. And it will still be yours.
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Hi friends, and welcome to Tabs and Tales!
This little corner of my website is where I’ll step out from behind the book covers and share a bit more of myself with you. Here, you can expect a mix of updates on my writing journey, reflections on reading and storytelling, and maybe even a peek into the small joys and everyday moments that inspire me along the way.
As a lifelong reader, books have always been my escape and my home. Now, as I step into the world as a debut author with Whispers of the Shadow Crown, I want to invite you into the process. A glimpse at the excitement, the challenges, and the magic of creating stories that matter.
My hope is that this blog becomes a space for connection. Whether you’re here because you love fantasy, romance, young adult fiction, or just stories that stay with you, I’m glad you’re here.
So pour yourself a coffee (or herbal tea), settle in, and let’s see where the pages take us together.
– Tabitha