🎙️ This Isn’t a Comeback. It’s a Continuation.
(What Fiction Writers Can Learn from Taylor’s Showgirl Era)

✨ What if your next big moment isn't a reinvention—but a continuation of everything you've already layered?

In this solo episode, Sarah channels fangirl energy and creative fire to unpack what Taylor Swift’s The Life of a Showgirl era can teach us about storytelling, identity, and building a lasting author brand.

You’ll learn:

🪞 How to evolve your author voice without losing yourself
🎭 Why emotional resonance is the long game (and worth it)
🔁 The power of callbacks, consistency, and layered meaning
📖 What fiction writers can borrow from Taylor’s storytelling playbook
🩰 And how your “extra” creative sides can actually feed your writing

Whether you're writing your first book or your fifteenth, this episode will reignite your belief in your work—and remind you that you’re not behind, you’re just still layering.

TRANSCRIPT:

Hey, Scribe—welcome back to the write podcast. Today, I’m bringing you a mix of fangirl energy, writerly reflection, and a whole lot of creative fire, because we have to talk about what’s happening in Taylor Swift’s The Life of a Showgirl era.

And I’m not just watching it unfold—I’m feeling it in my bones.

I’ve been a fan since her debut, but Love Story was the first track that fully owned my teenage soul. That was the first time I felt like someone had turned my inner romantic spiral into a three-minute fairytale.

Fast-forward to now, and this new era? I’m obsessed again—but differently.
It’s not just the visuals or the lyrics or even the drop.
It’s the layering.
It’s the way this moment is earned.

It reminds me of something else I love—burlesque. When I step on stage, I don’t come out as someone entirely new. I come out as a heightened version of everything I’ve already become. That’s what I see happening with Taylor. This isn’t about proving she still matters. It’s about owning how she never stopped.

And it’s making me think a lot about how we, as fiction writers, build resonance, trust, and story over time—not just in one launch, one post, one book.

So in this episode, I want to walk through the emotions this brought up, what I’m loving creatively, and what I think we can actually learn and apply as authors. Because Taylor isn’t just a pop star—she’s a master storyteller. And we should absolutely be paying attention.

First, let me just name it: this album is lush. It’s moody. It’s sharp. It’s theatrical. It’s also deeply self-aware.

What I love most is how this era manages to be both spectacle and sincerity. You can feel the polish and the pain, the power and the vulnerability—and that duality? It’s art.

This isn’t some flashy reinvention. It’s the natural continuation of everything she’s been layering for years. Every past version of her is still in the room—but evolved.

And I love that the audience is the one driving the hype. Her fans are unpacking the meanings, referencing past songs, making theories, creating content—for her. She’s not just performing anymore. She’s built a community that speaks her creative language.

And as a fiction writer—and someone who performs burlesque, where character, story, movement, and persona collide—I feel that.

Because we’re not just writing words on a page.
We’re crafting worlds.
We’re shaping identity.
We’re inviting readers into something deeper.

That’s what Taylor is doing here. And that’s what we can do, too.

Watching this campaign stirred up a cocktail of feelings:

Admiration — for the scale, the vision, the storytelling payoff.
Inspiration — like, “Yes, I want to build something people care about this deeply.”
And yeah—longing — that raw ache of “I wish my work was being shared like that.”

But instead of letting that longing spiral into shame, I let it become a mirror. Because longing isn’t weakness—it’s clarity. It tells me what I value: deep connection, creative legacy, emotional resonance.

And that ache? It reminded me of when I launched one of my earlier books—the one I poured everything into. And… nothing. No fanfare. Just a quiet thud in the void. I had to ask myself: does it still matter if no one sees it?

The answer was yes. Because that book became the seed for the one that finally connected. That’s layering. That’s legacy.

This moment didn’t happen for Taylor by accident. It’s the result of years of layered meaning, consistent storytelling, and courageous evolution.

That’s the real takeaway: resonance is a long game.
And that’s something we can claim, too.

Let’s dive into the lessons. Here’s how we can apply this energy, this approach, this intention to our own writing lives:

1. The Identity Shift
Taylor isn’t trying to be understood by everyone anymore. She’s standing fully in who she’s become.
👉 Your move: Let your author voice evolve. Don’t cling to old expectations or audience assumptions. Your next book can sound different. That’s not a betrayal—it’s growth.

2. The Audience Mirror
Her fans see themselves in her lyrics. She holds up a mirror to their own fears, hopes, heartbreaks.
👉 Your move: Stop trying to impress readers. Instead, reflect them. Write into what they feel but haven’t said yet. That’s what creates emotional grip.

3. The Emotional Moment
Taylor doesn’t just tell stories—she builds emotional climaxes. The ache, the sting, the gasp—it’s all there.
👉 Your move: Let your characters feel big feelings. Don’t cut away from the moment that might be “too much.” That’s what lingers.

4. The New Perspective
She takes old narratives—her own or others’—and flips them. She makes you question what you thought you knew.
👉 Your move: What trope, myth, or belief can you challenge in your story? What “truth” can you trouble in your plot?

Let’s pause for a second—are you starting to see the magic here?

5. Create Emotional Callbacks
She echoes past eras, visuals, lyrics. The fans know the callbacks—and they love feeling like insiders.
👉 Your move: Call back to earlier books, side characters, visual motifs. Let readers find those breadcrumbs. It builds trust and delight.

6. Teach Your Readers How to Read You
Taylor has trained her audience to notice details, decode metaphors, read between the lines. That didn’t happen overnight—it happened through consistent storytelling.
👉 Your move: Let your voice become a signal. Use metaphor, imagery, tone—again and again. Over time, readers will tune into your frequency.

7. Play the Long Game—Loudly
This era only works because of the years that came before it. She’s built narrative equity.
👉 Your move: Stop treating your first or fifth book like your last shot. Treat it like chapter one in a long-form career. Keep showing up. Let the layers build.

8. Let Yourself Be Multi-Layered
Taylor isn’t just a singer. She writes. She directs. She bakes sourdough. She dances. She brings all of herself into her art.
👉 Your move: Your creativity isn’t limited to one expression. I perform burlesque—and that movement, play, confidence all come back into my writing. Whatever else you do—let it feed your work, not compete with it.

So here’s what I want you to remember:

You’re not behind.
You’re not forgotten.
You’re just still layering.

Just like Taylor.
This isn’t a comeback—it’s a continuation.
The next chapter in a world you’ve already been building.

And one day, when the moment hits? When your readers start creating art about your art, quoting your characters, championing your stories without being asked?

It won’t be random.
It’ll be because you layered. You stayed. You told the truth over time.

So here’s a little something you can do today: Journal one way your creative identity has evolved over the past year. What have you layered in—intentionally or not? What are you proud of that wasn’t true a year ago?

And if you want to go deeper with your author voice and legacy, check out the Fiction Writing Academy at serenadepublishing.com/academy. It’s a self-paced course to help you layer intentionally and show up with confidence.

Thanks for being here today. If this resonated, tell me. DM me. Send a voice note. Share what you’re building.

And until next time:

Keep writing.
Keep dancing.
Keep layering.