You can have the best book on Amazon, a gorgeous cover, and five-star reviews — and still struggle to build a lasting readership. Why? One algorithm change and you’re unexpectedly invisible.

Your email newsletter is different. It’s a direct line to readers who raised a hand and said, I want to hear from you. No algorithm stands between you and them. No platform can pull the rug out.

That list is yours. Forever.

But building the list and keeping readers engaged once they’re on it is where most of us authors get stuck. I have a few ideas to help fix both problems, starting with content that connects and tools that can help you find and keep interested subscribers.

Newsletters beat social media every time

First, social media is rented land. Your Instagram followers, your Facebook page, your TikTok audience belong to the platform, not you. Your social media content has a terribly short lifespan.

Your email list is owned land. A subscriber who joined two years ago is still reachable today. Research consistently shows email outperforms social media for conversions — meaning when you launch a new book or run a sale, your newsletter is where sales are most likely to happen.

Do you have a newsletter? I began mine a year before I finished the first draft of my debut. Friends and family jumped on board quickly. Then, I promoted it on my social media channels by offering a secret passcode to news subscribers to read sneak peeks of the coming book. I had a hundred subscribers within six months. (And yes, I see the paradox of sharing it on socials.)

Check out Dave Chesson’s recommendations for email marketing services on Kindlepreneur. I use Kit. I’ve linked to a couple of my newsletters below.

You need content that keeps readers opening

The biggest mistake authors make is only emailing when they have something to sell. I send a newsletter either once or twice per month. Here are content ideas that deliver value and keep your open rates healthy:

• Behind the scenes of your writing life. Readers who love your books are curious about you. Share your writing routine, the music you play while drafting, and the weird research rabbit holes you fell down. I share links to and photos of places relevant to my historical fiction research.

• Sneak peeks and exclusive first chapters. Give subscribers something special. An early excerpt from your work-in-progress makes readers feel like insiders, and insiders become loyal fans.

• Personal stories tied to your books. What experience in your own life inspired a character or plot? The dream of my debut began when I wrote a random scene inspired by a prompt.

• Reader Q&A’s and polls. Ask your subscribers which cover they prefer, what kind of story they want next, or for help with a character’s name. I got stuck trying to name the male love interest in Her Christmas Project and created a poll. I used the winning name (Brian) in the book.

• Offer and solicit recommendations. Share books you’ve loved, podcasts worth a listen, tools that help your writing. When I headed to Italy for a writing retreat, I asked for recommendations to fill my Kindle for the trip.

• Milestone celebrations. Hit 10,000 words this week? Finished the first draft? Signed with an audiobook narrator? Bring readers along on the journey. They’re rooting for you.

A good rule of thumb: for every email that asks something of your readers (buy this, review that), send at least one that gives something instead. I try to do both in every email.

Useful tools that help grow your list

Content keeps subscribers engaged. Your website and other tools like BookFunnel and StoryOrigin help you find them.

Visitors to your website should be greeted with an immediate invitation (popup, anyone?) to subscribe. Offer something free for signing up, like the sneak peek I suggested above.

BookFunnel and StoryOrigin are platforms built specifically for authors, and their most powerful feature for list-building is the reader magnet — a free book, short story, or novella, sample chapters, or exclusive bonus content you offer in exchange for an email sign-up. Instead of just hoping readers stumble onto a “subscribe” button, you’re giving them a genuine reason to join: something free and immediately valuable.

Readers go to these platforms to do exactly this!

Here’s how the flow works: You set up a delivery page for your free content. Readers enter their email to claim it. The platform delivers the content directly to their e-reader and passes that subscriber to your email platform (audiobook content is also promotable & deliverable). The reader gets a seamless experience; you get a new subscriber.

Both platforms’ main list-building features are swaps and group promotions.

• Group Promos are curated giveaways where multiple authors in the same genre pool their reader magnets together. Readers browse a collection of free books/samples/et and sign up for the authors whose titles interest them.

• Swaps are negotiated between authors on the platform. You set up a swap page showing your newsletter send dates and book content to be featured in the other author’s newsletter. (Visit the links to newsletters below to see how they look.)

If you write in a popular genre (romance, thriller, fantasy, cozy mystery), you’ll find active promotions running every month. Unfortunately, nonfiction content hasn’t become part of these platforms. BookSweeps has a non-fiction section, and I need to explore that soon. My first impression, though, is the site doesn’t look as strong as the other two I’ve discussed.

I have added between 50 and 100 subscribers each month since I started. At $100 a year for BookFunnel’s Mid-List plan, that’s money well spent. Initially, I used both platforms, but after six months of data, I determined I got my best results with BookFunnel.

Turning downloads into long-term fans

Getting a subscriber is step one. Keeping them requires a strong welcome sequence.

When someone downloads your reader magnet and joins your list, send them a series of welcome and product emails over a week or two. Don’t lead with a sales pitch. Introduce yourself, tell them what to expect from your newsletter, or share something personal about why you write.

In my welcome email, I share a touching post I wrote here on Medium. My email tool, Kit, allows only a single automated email on its free plan (but the free plan allows a lot of subscribers!)

Readers who receive a warm, generous welcome sequence are far more likely to open your future emails.

What’s working

Obsessing over analytics isn’t worth it, but a few numbers are worth watching:

• Open rate tells you if your subject lines are compelling, and your list is engaged. Industry average for authors hovers around 30–40%. If you’re hitting that, you’re doing well.

• Click rate tells you if your content is driving action.

• List growth tells you if your reader magnet and promotions are attracting subscribers who stick around.

And don’t be afraid to prune the list. A smaller list of engaged readers is worth far more than a bloated list of people who haven’t opened an email in a year. Also, don’t be shy about resending your newsletter 24-hours later to non-openers.

Conclusion

Building a newsletter audience doesn’t require a massive marketing budget or viral social media moments. It requires consistency, genuine connection, and the right tools.

List-building platforms give you a sustainable, author-specific way to attract new subscribers. Your newsletter content gets them to stay. You end up with a reader community that no algorithm can take away.

Start with one reader magnet. Join one group promotion. Send one newsletter this month that isn’t about selling anything. Then do it again.

That’s how the list grows — and how your readership lasts.

Links to newsletters:
April 18, 2026

December 13, 2025

I’m a published author with a wonderful newsletter (so I’ve been told). If you enjoy news about writing and free books, sign up for my newsletter. Visit my website to find my books and other publishing news.

Can I ask you a personal question? Promise me you’ll answer honestly.

By that, I mean…

Do you count the cars as you approach a stoplight and get in the shortest line?
Do you change lines in a store or a bank?
Do you multitask so much that you forget one of the tasks?

No? Oh, oh, what about… do you carry too many bags or packages to save trips?

Did I get ya? I’m four for four. If only this were a valuable competition.

When I last wrote about my issues with productivity, the problem was concerning, but I still did nothing about it. I enjoy staying busy, and I love, truly love, projects. Sometimes I start projects and don’t finish them! And yeah, I wrote about that too. Sad, I know.

You’d think with that kind of writing record — lamenting my failings online — that I wrote every day. But alas, I do not. All my projects and daily tasks get in the way of my writing, too. And then there’s Netflix.

One thing at a time? Huh?

“You can only do one thing at a time,” said a neighbor recently. I was lamenting (yes, that again) the long slog I have ahead to clean out my late husband’s garages. We discussed the option of a dumpster in the driveway, but I didn’t want to do all the cleaning in a week. Besides, it’ll take longer than that… I ended up making my own decision about the cleaning, but that remark stuck with me. It niggled my brain. Oh yes, I can do more than one thing, I argued inside my head.

I always, always, always have more than one thing going on in my life and a hundred more ideas swimming around in my head. It doesn’t work out to my advantage, I’ve surmised over the past year or so. I may get more things done than some people I know, but what does that matter?

I’m competitive by nature, and it’s rather exhausting. Moreover, it’s disheartening when the unfinished pile is about to topple over.

Wanting to get so much done leads me to move at such a hurried pace. Life goes by quickly enough without rushing to the next thing, whether it’s at home or down the street.

Hurry sickness is “a behavior pattern characterized by continual rushing and anxiousness; an overwhelming and continual sense of urgency.” As if that isn’t bad enough, it’s also defined as “a malaise in which a person feels chronically short of time, and so tends to perform every task faster and to get flustered when encountering any kind of delay.” Sword & Zimbardon in Psychology Today, 2013.

What awful side effects! Anxiety, overwhelmed malaise, getting flustered. Of course, there are more negative outcomes from hurry — irritability, restlessness, stress, to name just a few more. I admit it breeds an incredible impatience in me. That’s the opposite of the fruit of the Spirit.

Are you a spiritual person? Do you seek the good in the universe and embrace it? We all have a soul, a spirit, and it’s meant to be nurtured. Those of us who follow Jesus know that He often went to a quiet place. He surely was busy doing great things most days, but He, too, needed rest. He showed His disciples how.

Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” (Mark 6:31, NIV)

The call to be unproductive

As a Type-A personality, I’ve always struggled with giving myself permission to do absolutely nothing. I still want my quiet time to be “useful,” whatever that means. Isn’t rest and quiet of use all on its own?

At least, it is for me. Now.

Two years ago, I decided to make a few changes in my life. I wanted to spend more time on my spiritual life, primarily. It seemed to me that everything else would fall into place if I started there.

• I instituted one technology-free Sunday a month. No TV, no computer, no phone-scrolling.

• I read my Bible and devotions, then pray before I turn on TV.

• I’m giving myself permission to read whenever I want.

• I still keep a list of house projects, phone calls, and other to-do’s. (Or I’d totally forget everything.) The goal is to cross off at least three items per week. Once I did the “easy” ones, I got stuck. So, I still have work to reach this goal!

• Oh, I can proudly say that I’m switching lanes while driving far less than usual. Lane switchers, I’ve noticed, rarely beat the others through the next light, so what was all that hurry about anyway?

Results

I have to report results, right? Productivity and outcomes… cha-ching! Well, I can happily say I did experience a softer attitude, a quietening of my spirit. And there was more gratitude because I could see and hear and experience more away from the buzz of my hurried life.

The first Sunday I nixed technology, I read the last half of a book that’d been lingering for months. I went to bed early and fell asleep quickly.

Some days, my TV didn’t come on until nearly Noon. I had no idea how addicted to filler noise I’d become. If I don’t crave complete quiet, I listen to music rather than mindless television programming.

I felt less of a slave to my to-do list. I got what I got done.

But there’s always a ‘but’…. I didn’t stick with it beyond one year. I’ve been in unfocused-Sunday-mode for a year now. I have a plan to get back to the tech-free Sunday habit, though. I’ll tell you about it when I get myself sorted out again.

In reality, time is not the enemy.
Faster is not the answer.
Undone is not the problem.
And slow is actually part of the solution.
~Dr. Alica Britt Chole, The Sacred Slow

On a macro level, I recently experienced a larger a-ha moment. Embarking on a home sale and new home purchase, I’ve been distracted beyond belief. I have been rewarding myself with quiet moments of doing nothing. By prioritizing the work that needed doing, I carved out time and reduced the stress in my head about too much to do. Some tasks didn’t have to be done week one, and I found an okay space for that belief to reside in my head.

Whenever something threatened to turn my attention, I threw up my hands and said, that can wait.

I’m a published author with a wonderful newsletter (so I’ve been told). If you enjoy news about writing and free books, sign up for my newsletter. Visit my website to find my books and other publishing news.

I’m working on a memoir about achieving a grace-filled life — the journey has been difficult, but it’s worth it.

We live our days at breakneck speed. Faster is better — a significant theme of the past century. Yet, we find ourselves slaves to hurry and the technology meant to save us time.

Upon the invention of that technological freak, the sun-dial, Plautus angrily wrote:

The gods confound the man who first found out
How to distinguish hours! Confound him, too.
Who in this place set up a sun-dial
To cut and hack my days so wretchedly
into small portions!

Chunks of available time seem perfect. Then, we use those morsels of time to plot out our days and hours. Sadly, we love a full grid.

We have no free time, for when those moments miraculously appear, they leak between our fingers. Or, most likely, we capture them in a net of yet more busyness.

For the Jesus follower, the unsettled world and our own frenetic pace give us reason to cry out, “Even so, Lord Jesus, come!” (Revelation 22:20). This is not how we’re meant to live. Jesus didn’t scurry about, and aren’t we meant to strive to be more like Him? How can we hear His voice when the whoosh of deadlines flying past drowns Him out?

In his book, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, John Mark Comer asks, is an overbusy, digitally distracted life the greatest threat to spiritual life? It has been so in my own past. How about in your life?

The prophet Habakkuk started out whining that God didn’t make any sense. But as God’s vision unfolded before him, the prophet learned…

For still the vision awaits its appointed time;
it hastens to the end — it will not lie.
If it seems slow, wait for it;
it will surely come;
it will not delay.
(Habakkuk 2:3, ESV) <emphasis mine>

Who originally said, “Anything worth having is worth waiting for?” I couldn’t figure that out, so my mom gets the credit. I also heard this one around the house: anything worth doing is worth doing right.

Wait. Slow down.

While those words have little currency in our culture, they’ve come to mean something to me. Like Habakkuk, I want my waiting and listening to become a prayer.

I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God, my Savior. (Habakkuk 3:18, NIV)

I’m a published author with a wonderful newsletter (so I’ve been told). If you enjoy news about writing and free books, sign up for my newsletter. Visit my website to find my books and other publishing news.

I’m working on a memoir about achieving a grace-filled life — the journey has been difficult, but it’s worth it.

In 2005, I met Bob — he was 57, and I was 45. The internet magically made our match on a dating website. Before I met him, a string of fellows wandered onto my list of matches. Coffees, lunches, dinners. Ho-hum. One-offs mostly.

Rejects included those incapable of spelling or unable to construct an interesting sentence. I enjoyed being the arbiter of good communication … sure saved me a lot of time. A lot of time.

Kiss a bunch of frogs, and all that. But there was no kissing, I promise. Being older makes us feel wiser, and sadly a bit more eager sometimes. But as Anne Lamott said, “No is a complete sentence.”

Twelve years older than me, Bob’s profile was succinct. He was seeking someone with a business mind, but his search parameters excluded women below the age of 47. Had to choose a range, right? (He got extra points from me for not having the selected the 30–40 age range. That was all too common! And ridiculous, says judge-y me.)

I had an MBA, so I checked the business box. My preferred age range captured his profile, so it was up to me to make the first move. I can barely remember how it all worked, but I suppose I “winked” at him.

After almost a year of winks and messages from strangers, I finally met the man who’d become my most darling husband, Bob.

Our first date involved walking around a British car show. We had dinner afterwards at Cracker Barrel — not a favorite of mine. (I learned years later through friends of his that he’d owned stock in the company. Quite typical of him… and that business devotion still makes me giggle.)

We married four years later. I suggested going to the courthouse, but he wanted to do the whole thing up.

I think what I liked most about dating “as an older person” was dropping the pretense fairly quickly. Maybe we were too old to fake it — it takes so much energy. And for what purpose if you’re seeking a partner for life?

Get real, be real! That’s true relationship magic. The best way to find a perfect match, that’s for sure.

It’s hard to explain my lack of interest in my birthdays. It’s NOT denial. No, it’s definitely not that. It’s just another year, another candle, right? I’ve never been terribly reticent about sharing my true age.

Seriously. But I’m not that consistent about celebrating other people’s birthdays. Who wouldn’t celebrate an aging mother’s special day? We just did that for my mother a month ago!

When my three kids hit double-digits, though, the birthday parties ended. (I truly disliked all the sticky stuff, the sticky kids, and the noise.) Once they got older and into adulthood, we celebrated again. Birthdays are wonderful reasons to assemble and enjoy loved ones. My attitude about birthdays is incomprehensible to others, I suppose.

Still… I do NOT want parties thrown for me.

As I wrote before about turning 40…

I could not have denied that passage into 40s-land. My toddler announced it constantly at the grocery store.

When I turned 50, I was a college professor and several family members turned up at work. I was rather mortified, and they were excessively pleased with themselves. Thankfully, no one decorated a walker with a tooting horn.

I rode home down the highway later that day with white “birthday” paint all over my red SUV, horns beeping at me. I could only wave and embrace the celebratory moments. It wasn’t so embarrassing after all.

I turned 60 during the COVID lockdowns. Hallelujah, no stupid surprise party! But my three children hosted a little outdoor soiree on one of their decks. I got my first bottle of Caymus Cabernet Sauvignon out of that deal, so… Yay!

Now, I’m just trying to live with the right attitude about getting older … and cooler. My age is merely the number of years the world has gotten to enjoy me. All of me, all the time.

No one needs to celebrate me on one special day, but… this year was extra special. I attended a memoir writing retreat with teacher/author Marion Roach Smith and 19 other writers. We were in Tuscany, Italy and my birthday fell midweek. Even I couldn’t let such a special occasion to go by, I saw a chance to have a cake! It was delicious.

If you’re a parent or have ever tried to help a toddler, you have heard this, “I’ll do it myself.” All three of my now-grown children are different, but they all declared this many times.

It’s just the stubborn, trying-to-learn nature of the little human.

And apparently, the nature of bigger humans too. Well, maybe you’re not like that, but it is true for me.

I enjoy learning to do new things, and getting things done around the house on my timeline means that “I’ll do it myself” rolls off my tongue readily.

So, a while ago, I embarked on a renovation of my downstairs. My contractor and I agreed that I would replace all the brass doorknobs with new brushed nickel handles. After the workers were all gone, I procrastinated for a month or so.

I’m not sure that procrastination is an integral part of this story, except the temperature was a bit cooler when I got trapped in the bathroom.

I’d already replaced the bathroom closet knob handily (pun intended) so I kept going. During the installation, I let the door close. Big mistake. Unable to open the door, I struggled, poked, and hammered, to no avail. Living alone… there was no one to call for help.

That’s when I opened the window. I examined the opening, wondering if I could fit through. I recalled the glory days when I weighed a mere 100 pounds. Of all days, my neighbor wasn’t working outside with his music playing. Not that he would’ve been any help. Was he going to catch me coming out rear-end first?

I returned to the handle to poke and prod a little longer, helpless and hopelessly thinking of dropping out backwards through the window to the ground over six feet below. Would I bounce back into the deck railing and knock myself out? Oh, the medical calamities I contemplated!!

You see, the larger issue was… my cellphone was plugged up in the den. Mistake number two. Without a phone, I couldn’t call someone to try to open the door from the other side. Nor did I have the assurance that a neighbor was only a call away if I broke a bone on impact with the dirt.

Getting myself through that window was no fun. From my strangely angled exit, I could not see the ground below. When only my right foot against the window frame held my full weight, I let it go and dropped. The thud jarred my sternum, but by the time I got around to the front door, the pain had subsided.

The slow slide over the window frame and sill created enormous eggplant-colored bruises on my right calf and both thighs. It was painful to sit for several days. I can’t remember now which arm was thoroughly tattooed with bruises.

Lessons learned.

Nowadays, I stop what I’m doing to get my phone before embarking on any project. “Project” means going up in the attic, messing about in the garage, working in the yard, and walking the dogs. I also wear an Apple watch for constant protection.

Calamity is just around the corner. Or so it seems.

I’m a published author with a wonderful newsletter (so I’ve been told). If you enjoy news about writing and free books, sign up for my newsletter. Visit my website to find my books and other publishing news.

I’m working on a memoir about achieving a grace-filled life — the journey has been difficult, but it’s worth it.

When I was thirteen, I began volunteering with the Red Cross. A group of us regularly visited a local veteran’s nursing home. Listening to those veterans, mostly men, helped form my thinking about elder wisdom.

I’ve since grappled with the inherent wisdom a woman over sixty might possess and have found myself lacking in certain circumstances. Of course, it’s usually only me who’s getting in the way. Can you relate at all?

What has become quite apparent to me is that while I may possess decades of valuable experiences, knowledge, and attitudes formed through personal interactions, I can be so mistaken at times. Notice I didn’t say “wrong”… haha. That’s just too harsh a judgment to place upon a wise ol’ woman.

Besides… I’m still learning and don’t plan to stop engaging my brain with new experiences and new knowledge.

Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty. Anyone who keeps learning stays young. — Henry Ford

I mentioned harsh judgment and must confess that I am my harshest critic, which certainly isn’t uncommon, particularly for women. I set goals for myself that are stretchy, to say the least. I needn’t do that to myself, but I can’t help it.

Wisdom of children

During my eldest’s recent visit, she told me I didn’t have to publish my next book in Spring 2026. And that I’m not required to get the audiobook of my debut novel out this year either.

“You set those goals. No one else has,” she wisely reminded me. “What happens if you’re late or you quit a project?”

Nothing will happen. (Except inside my head.)

What she really meant was…

Wisdom of friends

About a year after my husband passed away, I attended a Broadway musical locally. The friend who had the spare season ticket peered at me over a glass of wine before the show began and said, “You need to quit saying ‘no’.” Even though I had just said “yes” to her invitation, she had a point.

I’d become so isolated after my husband had his second cancer diagnosis in early 2020. The pandemic lockdowns did a number on me. My extroverted self drifted into a comfortable, quiet zone that I still don’t fight to escape.

Yes, I’ve travelled and gathered a few stamps on the passport, but when I’m at home in Virginia — I am AT home. Most of the time. And I still enjoy hunkering down in my house.

But my friend’s mild admonishment still rings in my head. And my heart. I’m listening to her wisdom and saying “yes” to activities more often.

Wisdom of strangers

I’m not calling you a stranger, per se, but I learn from readers who respond to my posts. As an editor over on Medium, I read quite a bit of wisdom from my writing peers. And, probably like you, I can’t wait to read what others have to say about a host of topics about which I am or could be curious.

Most people who consume personal essays online are interested in finding community with others who believe what they do or with whom they have shared experience. How someone else handled downsizing, moving a parent, dealt with an illness or death — writings about such topics are powerful learning tools.

We need those tools.

Wisdom from God

The busy-ness of parenting and working, plus all the extracurriculars kept me from hearing Him most days. I completed two graduate degrees between 1992 and 2009. The whirling dervish had nothing on me.

I still attended church, sang in the choir, taught Sunday school… all the things a church girl is supposed to do. Religious and secular commitments collided to create a world empty of a rich spiritual relationship. And a relationship is what our hearts crave. God has, after all, placed eternity in our hearts.

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. (Ecclesiastes 3:11, NIV)

God’s wisdom is accessible to all of us. Not only has He set what is right in our hearts, He has ensured that the Holy Bible (infinite wisdom) is everywhere. Great philosophers and writers over the millennia have quoted His wisdom. We should rely on it more.

But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere. (James 3:17, ESV)

And while the Bible may say,

Those who are older should speak, for wisdom comes with age. (Job 32:7 NLT).

I’m not certain that I can name it and claim it with full confidence. It’s true, no matter how I view myself, but I plan to keep listening to the collected wisdom of the universe and be better for it.

This ability to get BETTER is one of the greatest things about growing older.

How about you? Is your wisdom adequate for the task, or must you also rely on others?

I’m a published author with a wonderful newsletter (so I’ve been told). If you enjoy news about writing and free books, sign up for my newsletter. Visit my website to find my books and other publishing news.

I’m working on a memoir about achieving a grace-filled life — the journey has been difficult, but it’s worth it.

Subscribe now

Honestly, I don’t see what all the fuss is about. 100 years old?

Whoop-dee-do…

Why live that long? The emphasis should surely be on “live,” right? What does living mean? Breathing? Isn’t it more than that?

Last year, I joined Function Health and got a helpful read on my health through blood and urine tests. Over 100 results came in, and the recommendations that followed were quite useful. Granted, most of my results were “in range” — whatever that means these days. I tend toward medical skepticism, but one has to start somewhere. That’s why I did the tests.

The result that I bragged most about to my family was my Biological Age. Last August, I was told that age was 52.7 — more than twelve years below my actual age. The tests six months later reveal that after I took the clinician’s recommendations to adjust my diet, my Biological Age has dropped again! I’m over 14 years “younger!”

Now… let’s revisit that egregious bragging behavior from last summer. I joked with my three adult kids that this meant I’d be around even longer. Haha! My mother is 91 years old, so I’ve got a real chance to torment them for a long, long time.

Having retired at the age of 60, it hasn’t been lost on me that I may have a lot of years to fill. I find that incredibly daunting. I’ve been reflecting on concerns about my longevity ever since.

Longevity concerns and considerations

What is my purpose — I happily retired early. My husband was sick, and I embraced the caregiving role. I considered my loss of professional identity, but I’d begun writing on Medium and had almost completed the first draft of my debut novel. I wasn’t worried about being bored. Not back then, anyway. Now, it’s a bit of a concern as I’ve not felt as productive lately. (I’m also not very good at showing myself grace.)

Will I lose my mental sharpness — There’s no history of cognitive decline on my mother’s side. My paternal medical history remains a mystery (long, sad story). However, what would I do about significant memory lapses or the loss of the ability to learn new things? I can’t imagine not staying mentally engaged and relevant in a rapidly changing world. My deepest desires are to keep learning, contributing, and participating in conversations that matter.

How will I manage potential social isolation — We all know that social circles shrink as friends move away, pass on, or become less mobile. My husband’s illnesses through the pandemic aided me in becoming far too comfortable at home. Yes, I hike, go to church, and engage in writing, book discussion, and wine groups. Is that enough? Will I maintain those connections as time goes on?

What if I lose my physical independence — The prospect of becoming a burden on my children looms large. I’m maintaining my health, which will, hopefully, mitigate debilitating surgeries or diseases anytime soon. My mother recently chose to stop driving. That responsibility has fallen upon me, which is fine. If I were still working, it might not be so fine, you know? We can’t predict the future, only prepare for the what-ifs.

These questions are part and parcel of my desire to maintain my dignity, remain autonomous, and embrace a sense of self-worth throughout the coming years. While I like planners and planning my days, how I do that now for an unknown future is anyone’s guess. Yet pondering these questions and being alert to changes in my head, heart, and health are essential to keeping myself on the track to a life of inherent value and purpose.

A final thought

I’m a believer with a strong faith in a certain and glorious eternity. I’m not sure why I’d desperately cling to this physical place with a failing body or mind. But like I said above, we can’t predict the future, only prepare for it. I’m ready for the end whenever it comes — at age 66 or 100.

I’m a published author with a wonderful newsletter (so I’ve been told). If you enjoy information about writing and gaining access to free books, sign up for my newsletter. Visit my website to find my books and other publishing news.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The incessant high-pitched noise roused me from my slumber. It wouldn’t turn off by itself, so I couldn’t wake slowly. I tossed the covers back and padded to the other side of the bed where my darling husband rested.

I pressed the off button and headed to the bathroom for the water glass and syringe. Flush the tube time!

“How’d you sleep?” I asked every morning. Ever consistent. Day in and day out for the two years, Bob took his full nutrition by a feeding tube through the night hours. So, we developed a series of steps that worked for us when we went to bed and when we woke.

Though I’m a morning person through and through, my 2020 retirement should have offered me at least a chance to luxuriate under the covers, stretching and smiling at the sun’s rays peeking through the lacy curtains. Shouldn’t it? But it was okay, really. Sleeping in for me would only take me to seven or seven-thirty. I wasn’t losing much. Instead, I started my day by reading — God’s word and a bit of fiction. Sometimes, that lasted until nine a.m. Talk about luxuriating!

In my personal Bible study, I learned that Jesus gave His disciples five surprising directives during an amazingly busy time. Of course, as it often goes in my faith life, a scripture caused me to come to a stuttering stop. Time for me to absorb teaching.

Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” (Mark 6:31, NIV)

In those last 13 words, Jesus says,

• Come

• with Me

• by yourselves

• to a quiet place

• and get some rest.

Come is an action word. In this context, likely it means to move in His direction. Or is it ‘at His direction’? Or both? This is seriously convicting to me. Even during my Bible readings, sometimes I get distracted and then I’m not actively moving in His direction.

With me should be easy to define. But an Internet search of that phrase is confounding! (accompany, in opposition to, a feature of, and so much more) Of course, Jesus does not confuse. In this context, after “come,” Jesus means to accompany Him. Which raises the question of my heart and my feet — am I really “with” Him, aligned with His steps?

Have you ever followed someone through a messy or tough-to-navigate area? Deep sand or a muddy trail come to mind. Like when I go hiking on a trail after a rain. It is helpful to place your steps directly into the ones of your leader. This requires incredible concentration — you’re keeping your eyes on both the footprints and the person in the lead.

By yourselves means to step away from others. What do you need to step away from in order to focus on Him? Is it social media or people or work tasks or something else? What are you afraid of missing out on if you turn your attention to Jesus and His grace and rest?

To a quiet place is unbelievably appealing to me. The world is noisy. My house is rarely quiet unless I’m sleeping. Oh, well, I do have that white noise machine, too. See what I mean!? It’s hard to be still. Even when my body is still, my mind is humming 100 miles an hour.

I keep trying to make a simple change to direct my heart to the Lord. You see, several years ago, I gained an earnest aspiration to write. But I had a full-time job. So, as a perpetual learner, I queued up a YouTube video while I got ready for work (you know, hair, makeup, the works). I made wonderful discoveries about writing and publishing from writers and editors.

This listening habit continues into retirement. Though it kept my head busy with useful information, my iPad did not always enable me to spend my time usefully. Because I need more time with God, in prayer and reciting scripture, I’ve spent less time with the iPad. Listening time with Him has flowed from that, too. Admittedly, I still struggle with my ability (and desire) to tune into God.

Get some rest is an interesting directive. Jesus had only three years to complete His earthly ministry, yet He showed the importance of rest many times.

What is rest anyway? It doesn’t mean sleep necessarily. When one is told to rest, the speaker is likely suggesting to just stop moving. When we’re on the move, we miss things. We fail to focus on all the signs around us because we are passing by them or our head is turning away.

If you’re a parent or a caregiver, (or just a working human), you know the temptation to over-schedule. There’s so much to do, or so much time to fill. Data from numerous studies reveal that children involved in many activities often turn into burned-out teenagers who no longer have a passion for those activities. This happens to adults as well.

What are you missing? Do you need to stop moving? Are you over-involved in outside activities, family needs, or church responsibilities? Yes, you can do “too much” at church and burn out or even lose sight of Jesus in the busy-ness of that work.

Let’s all slow down. I will if you will.

Father, as the Psalmist wrote, “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” Help me rest in You, my refuge. Let me hear Your voice in the quiet place You built for me. Amen.

The Care and Feeding of Relationships

The Lord says, “I will give you back what you lost to the swarming locusts, the hopping locusts, the stripping locusts, and the cutting locusts… and you will praise the Lord your God, who does these miracles for you. Never again will my people be disgraced.” (Joel 2: 25–26, NLT)

It’s tempting to lift a verse and tag it as one’s “life verse” or some such thing. Or perhaps as a guiding light during a specific time? So, when prompted by this scripture, I wondered how it might apply to my life.

You see, I lost my husband four years ago. And two days before he died, I asked God exactly what I was supposed to be learning from all this sadness and pain. “He isn’t learning anything,” I pronounced to God, as I pointed at my husband’s sleeping form.

Angry. Resentful. Hurting. So much.

My husband was the kindest man I’ve ever known. He had a placid demeanor and never raised his voice. Unlike me, his wife of 13 years. He gave me a special smile when I went “haywire” over something. And it didn’t make me angry, as one might imagine. He’d just listen and offer that smile, which embodied his understanding and patience.

He grew up in church, but when we met, he no longer attended anywhere. He was quite done with organized religion. I enjoyed our conversations through our years together about church, the Bible, and what we each believed.

During his last five years on this earth, he fought three cancers. The first (esophageal) was scary, but surgery was the ultimate cure. No other treatments. Then, in 2020, he received a throat cancer diagnosis, and he rose to the challenges of chemo and radiation. I walked the parking lot, participating in work Zoom meetings while his treatments were delivered. We celebrated small wins. He ended up on a feeding tube.

The final blow came with a small-cell lung cancer diagnosis in January 2021. No one expected that, not even his doctors. By then, I’d retired early.

As the cancer visited different parts of his body over that final year, he valiantly accepted the chemo and radiation treatments. Until he decided he couldn’t keep up the rigorous schedule.

And by then, I understood precisely the toll that the locusts had taken on him. Stripped and cut, he’d had enough.

In his last two years, my husband spent an impressive amount of time in God’s word. He read devotionals sent by email and various devotional books that arrived monthly by regular mail. His last summer, I suggested we read the Psalms together, and it was a special time. Then, we tackled Proverbs.

When we began watching The Chosen series, he became an evangelist for the program and many of his car show buddies and old UPS-ers began watching it. I have to believe that the strength of his faith turned some hearts around.

The God in Joel’s prophetic writings is speaking to a recalcitrant Israel. This nation’s people swung to and from God like a pendulum. And when they were disobedient and apart from Him, they suffered the consequences of their choices. Not targeted punishment from God necessarily, but the natural outcomes of bad choices (Deuteronomy 1:19–45 holds one example).

But, God says, once you’ve turned back to me, I will restore you. He’ll restore what you lost and make you whole again.

Like practically every Christian I have ever known, my husband wasn’t always in a right relationship with his Lord. And he made choices that ultimately delivered consequences to his life and health over decades. The human condition, right?

Locusts. Cutting. Stripping. Swarming.

It took me several weeks of contemplating this scripture to realize that I couldn’t apply it as though my husband’s illness was a locust raiding my life. Honestly, I was privileged to love him and care for him during some of the worst years of his life. I am honored he chose me to be his bride later in life, and ultimately to be his caregiver. It was a blessing, strangely.

And on April 9, 2022, God gave back to my husband all that the locusts had taken from him — a healthy, pain-free body. And as the scripture predicts, I praise God for that every single day for the miracle and blessing of eternal life.

I’m working on a memoir about achieving a grace-filled life — the journey has been difficult, but it’s worth it.

I’m a published author with a wonderful newsletter (so I’ve been told). If you enjoy news about writing and free books, sign up for my newsletter. Visit my website to find my books and other publishing news.

Books, books, books. That’s what I thought would fill my retirement days. I told my book group at work that when that day came, I’d have a three-foot stack by my chair. I’d just read, read, read. All day long.

Well… that did not happen.

But, yes, I became consumed by books in retirement: the ones I am writing! It’s a long story how I became a fiction author.

More interesting, though, is how I constantly ride myself about doing more, getting things done, finishing a book, writing a post here. Sigh…

I’ve been retired for five years, a widow for most of them. I’ve struggled with a lot, but not just the grief. I’m quite the multitasker even in the struggle realm.

My lack of productivity (my version) for the past few months has plagued me. So much so that I considered reaching out to the therapist I saw in 2019. Maybe she could help? Then I decided I didn’t need that kind of help. I just needed to stop fretting about unimportant things.

What are the important things though? Well…

I get to decide.

I entered 2026 with the goal to publish my fourth novel and publish another devotional. I will definitely… no, mostly likely … get those accomplished. I’m not under contract, except with myself. And Julie2026 is a chill girl. Okay, that’s not accurate. She’s chill-er.

They’ll get done when they get done. No push to get the novel out in March. No push to get the devotional out by September. The musical notes of deadlines whooshing by is playing on my brain’s turntable.

I’m a bit surprised by this, to tell the truth. It’s not like me to be so… what? The word escapes me, and yet, I hear “unmotivated” tickling my brain.

I think maybe I’m ready to answer only to me. Not that I’ve been the most forgiving boss. Still, I suddenly feel a pressing urge to show myself some grace. And sadly, to remind myself that “it’s okay” to not live up to my own high standards.

I need a whole lot of grace, to be honest.

There’s no reason to stress out about things that matter very little in the grand scheme of things. Sure, I’ve got readers who want to read the next book. But are they thinking about me every day while I guiltily binge a streaming show?

No, they are not. I think of them, and I appreciate them. But I am retired.

I will publish something. Soon. Eventually.

My work life began fifty years ago. I’ve taken care of three kids, a very ill husband, and I’m still focused on my mother.

I matter too. I deserve a lot, but I don’t need empty promises, even if they’re ones I’ve made to myself.

I’m working on a memoir about achieving a grace-filled life — the journey has been difficult, but it’s worth it.

I’m a published author with a wonderful newsletter (so I’ve been told). If you enjoy news about writing and free books, sign up for my newsletter. Visit my website to find my books and other publishing news.

Writing the book turned out to be the straightforward part. Well, kinda.

My traditional publisher required in the initial submission materials a detailed description of my “author platform.” Now, there’ll be experts out there who say it doesn’t matter for fiction writers. I’ve heard them say it. This author thinks it does matter, to a degree.

The first book contract I signed with The Wild Rose Press in 2023 very clearly stated that the company was not responsible for marketing my novel. Sure, they’d post it on the company website, and obviously they got the book listed on all the relevant sales sites — Amazon, Kobo, B&N, and more. Asking them to post my book on its Instagram page now and then is so hit-or-miss, I gave up.

Too quickly, I discovered what every author learns.

Nobody finds your book by accident.

Marketing is a full-time job, with its own learning curve, its own costs, and its own humbling moments — and unlike writing, it doesn’t come with a clear finish line.

So I did what I’d done at every stage of this journey: research. I dove into YouTube channels, author forums, podcasts, and Facebook groups dedicated to book marketing. The sheer volume of conflicting advice was overwhelming. Some seemed to have a system, while even more just whined about the work.

If you’ve been following this series, you know I’ve already navigated the mysteries of book cover design, wrestled with interior formatting software, and survived the upload process. I thought those were the hard parts. I was wrong.

Nothing in the author’s life has humbled me like marketing — and nothing has made me feel like I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. Note: I have a Master’s degree in business and marketing.

Book marketing isn’t one skill. It’s a bundle of very different skills, and most of us have to build them from scratch.

Finding good information (without losing your mind)

The first challenge isn’t marketing your book. It’s figuring out how to market your book — and the internet will happily bury you in contradictory advice if you let it.

I found the most useful information came from other indie authors who were a few steps ahead of me, not from polished “experts” selling masterclasses. Author Facebook groups can be valuable — real people sharing actual results, including failures. On YouTube, I follow a handful of indie authors. Podcasts are wonderful sources, particularly ones where authors talk candidly about what does and doesn’t work for them. (I think I’ll do another post about the experts I love to follow and why.)

A lot of marketing advice online is designed for authors with larger backlists than mine, big budgets, or books in very specific genres. What works for a romance author pumping out four books a year won’t likely work for someone with a single title in a niche genre.

Lesson learned: Seek voices that are honest about failure, not just success. That’s where the real information lives.

Facebook ads: A steep and expensive learning curve

Facebook ads kept coming up everywhere I looked as one of the primary tools for book promotion. So I decided to try them.

To be honest, I am still figuring this out. Facebook’s ad platform is not intuitive, and it has a steep learning curve. There are audiences to define, ad creative to design, budgets to set, and then there’s the waiting — watching the numbers, trying to figure out if what you’re seeing means anything at all. A click is not a sale. An impression is not a reader.

What surprised me most was how much you can spend before you understand enough to spend wisely. I made early mistakes: bad timing decisions, ads that were too broad, images that weren’t interesting enough, copy that didn’t connect. Honestly, the money I spent returned void in the end.

There’s an old advertising adage that goes like this:

Half of advertising money is wasted, and we don’t know which half.

The consensus among experienced authors is that Facebook ads work best once you understand your target reader deeply and have tested enough to know what resonates. Getting there costs both time and money.

Lesson learned: Go in with a learning budget, not a sales expectation. Your first ad campaign is tuition.

In-person marketing: More awkward than I expected

Before I got out there, I imagined in-person marketing would feel natural — chatting about my book with people who might enjoy it, maybe doing a local event or two.

There’s something viscerally uncomfortable about selling your own work face-to-face. With an ad, you’re not in the room when someone decides whether they’re interested. In person, you are. Every hesitation, every polite-but-not-really-interested response, every “oh, that sounds nice” lands directly on you. It takes a thick skin. Sigh.

I tried a few different approaches: talking to local bookstores, getting an event invitation, and mentioning my writing in conversations where it felt relevant. Some of it went better than expected, even if I did not sell a book.

Local independent bookstores were less receptive than I thought they’d be because of the high costs associated with buying a book from my publisher. Now that I’ve gone indie, things should change. However, in the first eight months of having a self-published book out there, I’ve done nothing. I find the required effort a bit much with such a small catalog. This is a personal decision based on my desires and all the non-writing things going on in my life. I will change my mind at some point.

Lesson learned: Indie bookstores love indie authors, but business realities like costs can get in the way of a positive exchange.

The book launch: Managing expectations

I had ideas about what each book launch would look like. A buzz-building countdown. A wave of early readers. Sales that would signal to the algorithms that this was a book worth noticing.

The reality was more modest. I hadn’t built a large enough email list or social following before the launch — something I now know is one of the biggest mistakes first-time authors make. A launch is only as strong as the audience you’ve already cultivated, and I hadn’t done enough of that groundwork before my publication date arrived.

There’s a lot of talk in author groups about ARCs (advanced reader copies) and street teams for promoting your books. I did none of this. I just couldn’t ask people I know to do this kind of work, and I wouldn’t pay a stranger to do it either. That’s just me. I sent a few family members sample text and graphics, and they enthusiastically posted about my book on their social media.

I threw a private party with invitations. I did two readings from my debut while wearing a beaded flapper dress like my main character might have worn (see above). I signed books and my adult children collected money from the readers who hadn’t bought the book in advance. Lots of folks came, and we all had a good time.

The post-launch slump is also real. There’s an initial burst of activity, and then things get quiet.

Lesson learned: Your launch is not a single event — it’s just one moment in a much longer marketing effort.

The ongoing reality

Marketing doesn’t end. The book is out in the world, and the work continues. That’s quite a mental shift for authors who think of writing as having a beginning, middle, and end.

I’m still finding my rhythm. Some weeks I’m consistent and intentional about promotion. Other weeks, I’m not. Effective book marketing is a long-term practice, not a single launch campaign. It’s okay to build it slowly, as long as you keep building it.

I’ve deliberately chosen not to talk about social media. As quickly as something becomes “a thing” on one platform, it just as swiftly fades away. In this realm, you will find just as many “experts” as you’ll find for other self-publishing tasks. It’s pretty frustrating, to be honest.

I’ve taken the 30,000-foot view of all the channels and consider them for what they are — transitory. It’s important to know that most social media platforms are not searchable, and anything an author posts disappears far down the scroll in less than an hour. Right?

While I still keep my author pages on Facebook and Instagram active, they get much less attention. My efforts are now focused on Pinterest, a search engine where every post lives forever. I still don’t know enough about its algorithm, but I’m learning.

I don’t have this figured out yet. But I understand book marketing better now, and every stumble has taught me something. At this point in the journey, that’s enough.

Lesson learned: Marketing is a marathon, not a sprint.

When I decided to enter the self-publishing world, I knew that meant I’d have to format my own book. I kept hearing about Atticus. It seemed like every indie author I followed was singing its praises, so I figured — why not give it a shot? I didn’t do extensive research into other formatting tools. I knew Microsoft Word was an option (and honestly, I might consider it for a more complex project down the road), but Atticus had the buzz, and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

Now, having worked through two book designs with the software, I have thoughts. Plenty of them. If you’re new to book formatting or considering Atticus for your project, here’s what I wish I’d known going in.

The learning curve is real

Atticus is powerful, but it’s not plug-and-play. I went in thinking I’d have my book formatted in an afternoon. That was… optimistic. I’m still figuring things out. The interface is intuitive in some ways and puzzling in others, and I found myself clicking around more than I expected trying to understand the options available.

Lesson learned: Budget more time than you think you’ll need, especially for your first project.

Creativity meets constraints

Atticus has guardrails. Lots of them. And while I understand they’re there to keep your book looking professional and meeting industry standards, I often felt like my creativity was being stifled.

Take scene separators, for example. Atticus lets you upload custom graphics to use as scene breaks, which sounds fantastic. But there’s zero guidance on sizing. How big should the image be? What dimensions work best? I spent way too much time experimenting through trial and error. And once I finally got my separator graphic in place, I discovered the spacing above and below it was enormous — far too large for my taste. Could I adjust it? Nope.

Lesson learned: If you want granular control over every design element, prepare to compromise.

The same goes for chapter headers. The location of chapter numbers, chapter names, and chapter graphics is fixed. You can choose from templates, but you can’t drag elements around. For my first straightforward self-published book — a romance novel — this worked fine.

I also published an Advent devotional this year. I really wanted a graphic at the uppermost part of each chapter’s opening page. I didn’t find a template that allowed for that. I think I could have gone down a few rabbitholes and found a fitting solution, but I punted with a alternate design idea and was satisfied enough.

I can already imagine scenarios where this rigidity would be frustrating. My next novel about a Civil War slave and her female relative in the present day must have a specific layout, in my opinion. I’ll explore Atticus for the extra book features I want and hope I can find them.

The e-reader preview feature is gold

Now for something I genuinely loved: the e-reader preview options. Atticus lets you see how your ebook will look across multiple devices — Amazon’s Fire and Paperwhite, Barnes & Noble’s Nook, Kobo’s various e-reader products, an IPad, various smartphones, and more. This feature alone might be worth the price of admission.

As someone who’s never formatted an ebook before, I had no idea how differently the same file could display across devices. Being able to toggle between these views and catch formatting hiccups before publishing? Incredibly valuable. I spotted issues with paragraph spacing and font rendering that I never would have noticed otherwise.

Lesson learned: Use the e-reader previews religiously. What looks perfect on your computer screen might look wonky on an actual reading device.

Drag-and-drop book content

One feature that genuinely impressed me was the ability to drag and drop sections to reorganize chapters, or switch around front and back matter. Need to move your acknowledgments from the back of the book to the front? Just drag it. Want to reorder your copyright page and dedication? Easy.

This flexibility made experimenting with book structure much less painful than I’d anticipated. I changed my mind about the order of my front matter at least three times, and each time, it took seconds to adjust.

Lesson learned: Don’t stress too much about getting your front and back matter order perfect on the first try. Atticus makes reorganizing painless.

It plays by the rules (for better or worse)

Atticus follows traditional manuscript formatting rules, which means your headers, footers, and page numbering will behave the way publishing professionals expect them to. This is reassuring if you’re new to book design and don’t want to commit any formatting faux pas.

The software handles things like not putting headers on chapter opening pages, starting chapters on the right-hand page (but you can still select a left side start), and proper page setup. It does the technical heavy lifting so you don’t have to memorize all the rules.

But again, this is a double-edged sword. If you want to break those rules intentionally for creative reasons, Atticus may not let you.

Lesson learned: Atticus is like a helpful but strict teacher. It’ll keep you from making mistakes.

The verdict (so far)

I’m still learning. There are features I haven’t explored yet, and I suspect my opinion of Atticus will continue to evolve as I get more comfortable with the software. For my first two projects, it did the job, even if I occasionally felt boxed in.

Would I recommend it to other authors new to book formatting? With caveats, yes. If you want professional-looking results without having to become a formatting expert, Atticus will get you there. Just know that you’re trading some creative control for convenience and consistency.

For my next book, I might experiment with Microsoft Word, especially since the project will have more complex design requirements. But for now, I’m still figuring out Atticus, and I suspect there’s more to appreciate once I’ve mastered what it can do.

Final lesson learned: Every formatting tool introduces compromise. The key is figuring out which compromises you’re willing to make.

A word about Atticus as a writing tool

I did considerable final editing while my manuscript lived inside Atticus. Finding problems is sometimes all we writers know how to do, right? Though my purpose is to discuss the formatting prowess of Atticus, it seems appropriate to mention the tool’s weaknesses on the writing front. After all, one has to pay for this software ($147 lifelong subscription), and it’s best to know what you are or aren’t getting.

Even the Atticus creator (Dave Chesson of Kindlepreneur fame) says this program is not meant to be a writing tool. There are no grammar/style checking features, nor does it track changes, or allow for commenting. It’s a cloud-based tool without an offline mode.

Conclusion

If you’re considering Atticus, give it a try, but go in with realistic expectations. (It’s not an Adobe product, if you know what I mean.) It’s powerful, but it’s not magic. And honestly? That’s probably exactly what most of us need — a tool that does the technical work so we can focus on the creative stuff that matters most.

Just maybe check the dimensions on those scene-separator graphics before you upload them. Trust me on this one.

My previous self-publishing story focused on covers and file management. Check it out!

You can find my novels anywhere books are sold online. Find me under J. J. Ranson.

She Danced Anyway She didn’t break the rules. She rewrote them. Set in the smoky dance halls of 1920s NYC.

His Christmas Muse (Book 1 of the His & Hers Christmas series) He’s a best-selling author. She’s his unexpected muse. But can a Christmas in Richmond rewrite their story?

Her Christmas Project (Book 2 of the His & Hers Christmas series) Two hearts, one Christmas deadline, and all the reasons why love is worth fighting for.

Bob dropped his gold crucifix necklace into my outstretched hand. He doesn’t usually wear it to the doctor’s office, but he hadn’t known he would end up in the radiology department.

I held it cupped in my right hand and stirred my other hand through my messy purse, certain I could find something to safely hold the necklace. Finally, I unzipped my wallet and slid it carefully beside the coins - his gold mingled with my copper and silver.

Surely, you too have treated something with special care. Kissed a crying child’s boo-boo. Gently wrapped a delicate chain in tissue so it wouldn’t tangle. Or have you carefully handled something less physical, but still tangible, like a friendship?

Relationships require incredible care, don’t they? Some family members and friends need more attention than others, and it might feel like more than you’re willing to give. Cutting yourself off from others is never the answer. But you can create appropriate boundaries so that your relationships are healthy and meet the needs of all parties.

Oil and perfume make the heart glad, and the sweetness of a friend comes from his earnest counsel. (Proverbs 27:9, ESV)

Maintain fellowship

God wants us to be happy and in the company of others. His Word inspires us to maintain fellowship with others because the benefits are significant.

Healthy relationships offer us:

· Someone to lift us up when we fall (physically and emotionally)

· Someone to keep us warm (provide physical comfort)

· Someone to protect us from harm by others

· Someone to offer wisdom and advice

· Someone to show us joy and happiness

Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him-a threefold cord is not quickly broken. (Ecclesiastes 4:9–12, ESV)

Jesus is the best example of relationship management, and he defines friendship so well in John 15. He loved his friends — his disciples — by teaching them how to live. They fished together. They worked side by side in the care of others. Jesus even admonished his friends when they failed in their faith walk. Jesus also showed them how to love without limits.

My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. (John 15: 12–14, NIV)

When Bob was finished with his exam, he asked for his necklace. It came out of my coin purse in perfect condition. I had treated it with the same care I employed in our marriage. Bob knew he could count on me, that I had his back. I counted on him too.

Return to fellowship

Do you have a relationship that needs a little care and attention? Is there someone in your life who could use your ear or your wise counsel? Even if you are unable to meet a specific need of theirs, you can offer them your prayer support.

I trust you will find your way back to a renewed fellowship with someone you love.

Here’s a prayer about friendship:

Lord, You are the source of every good and faithful friendship. Teach us to love intentionally, not casually. Help us to tend the relationships You have entrusted to us with patience, humility, and grace. Where there has been neglect, restore attentiveness. Where there has been hurt, grow forgiveness. Make our love reflect Yours - steady, sacrificial, and sincere. In loving others well, draw us closer to You. Amen.

I’ve written much over the past few years about paring down my possessions and those of my deceased husband. I wrote so much the last few years it’s all included its own list.

My husband, Bob, didn’t throw much away — everything was a keeper, apparently, in his mind. I wrote a bit emotionally about his being a keeper.

I’m glad he thought that way about me me too, but still…

Not only did I have our main living spaces to clear of excess, but also eight garage bays, an unused packed-to-the-gills bedroom, and the attic. Nearly all the vehicles are gone, which were far more difficult to part with than one might imagine. The thousands of books leftover from his book resale business are long gone.

The attic, though, was the last holdout. Thankfully, mine’s a walkup and easily accessed. We all know, though, that emptying an attic is no small task. I’ll wager that any home without a densely packed attic is a unicorn.

My decluttering journey is just that — a journey. I get lost sometimes. You know, like in TJ Maxx where I cannot resist an adorable pillow or a quilt set on sale. Last December, I had a meeting and found myself near one, so I stopped in. The front of the store contained a long table densely filled with all sorts of Christmas decor, which I dearly love. Five feet away from the table, I turned on my heel and left the store.

We must resist. Right? 😆

As I’ve written before, I won’t leave a colossal mess for my children to deal with after my death. With my eye on moving and downsizing within the next five-to-10 years, liquidating the excess is a constant process in my head and in practice.

A recent visit from my oldest included a conversation that went like this:

Daughter: “Mom, how many cups do you drink out of in a day?”
Me: “One, or two maybe.”
Daughter: “You have over twenty in this cabinet.” <judgmental expression included>
Me: “Okay.” (Side note: I did clean through that entire cabinet after Bob passed away, but removing it all at once was difficult. Understandably.)

Later, I had some alone time, and I boxed up the excess. I gestured like Vanna White when she got back to the house. I think she was impressed, but then, with a pointed expression, she opened the cabinet beside it.

Me: “Okay, that’s next.”

I got to work after she left. I have 23 kitchen cabinet doors, and I have only two left hiding excess accumulation. I’ve been busy.

Not only have I been on a four-year journey with Bob’s stuff, but my mom sold her house of 45 years almost two years ago — and the accumulation became my problem to fix. In a Facebook forum I regularly visit, a group member kvetched about cleaning out the house of a dead relative. Boy, was she angry! And so were the commenters on that thread. I can relate, truly I can. Here’s a hilarious comment exchange under that post:

Facebook screenshot by J. Ranson

Anyway, back to the attic, which does admittedly contain a shelving unit housing decorative pillows I can’t yet part with. I set aside time weekly last spring to slowly remove the attic’s contents. About half went straight to the trash and the other half I either found a place for (the pillows, etc) or I donated.

The attic is practically empty now. Yippee!! A few old suitcases need to go, but I keep meaning to research if thrift stores even want fabric ones.

Don’t do this to your people

Make a plan to start cleaning one room in your home at a time. Yes, it can be daunting, but the results are quite incredible to the psyche.

Baby steps are better than no steps at all. Do one thing a week — clean out a desk, a closet, a kitchen cabinet. Just a drawer, for heaven’s sake! It may go so well, you’ll add a task. That’s happened to me multiple times over the past few years.

Subscribe to a decluttering newsletter, read a book (by Kondo or Becker, for example), or watch a YouTube video that teaches how to approach this problem.

Our possessions own us, as I’ve written before. They weigh us down even when we can’t even see them, like in that attic. Think about how exasperated you feel every time you try to find something in your junk drawer. (Ponder for a few seconds the absurdity of having a “junk drawer” at all!)

Imagine how your family is going to feel if they inherit your house as it is now. Then consider how much they’ll appreciate the decluttering work I know you’re going to start doing. Leave them that memory, not the one where they throw out bags of stuff from 1950.

Are you on this journey too? Have you had victories? Please share!!

Click my profile to read more about this journey here on Substack.

You shall have no other gods beside me. (Exodus 20:3, NIV)

I have an idol in my life. My idolatry gets in the way of my time with God, my devotion to Him, and my surrender to His plans for my life.

You see, my idol is productivity.

an idol is “anything more important to you than God, anything that absorbs your heart and imagination more than God…” Tim Keller

Productivity is what I strive for every single day, even on weekends. Write the list, enter schedules in the planner, check off my accomplishments. Sometimes, I report my happy check marks to others. Quite proudly, too. It’s what they expect of me, after all.

Admittedly, I have much to do. Settling my husband’s estate, managing the household (me and two dogs), and keeping up with my writing and publishing tasks can fill my days.

At times, I realize that it’s nearly dinner time and I’ve yet to read God’s word.

My weekly planner is no golden calf (Exodus 32), but I bow to its (my) precepts as though my plans are golden. Don’t get me wrong. I do pray about my goals and ask for His guidance in organizing and executing these things. He has plans for me too and tuning into His plans is my daily goal. Well, except on those days I’m scurrying around getting my stuff done.

Here’s the truth, though. I know He cheers for our success. He’s the author of it, let’s not forget. But our success comes at a cost. Some may find the cost too high, others may think it’s not that steep.

That cost is the time it takes to keep our eyes on Him and His word… while meditating day and night.

This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night. (Joshua 1:8, NIV)

We are cherished and chosen creatures. We are valuable to Him, no matter how productive we are. Recognizing this, we more easily see ourselves as He sees us, and we can walk towards that vision of what our lives are meant to be.

Stop settling for an ordinary life

Let’s “settle” instead for the extraordinary things God has in store for us!

It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak… like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased. ~C. S. Lewis

I want to remain a productive person. Laziness is not in my nature. But… I have a purpose set by God. That is where my heart should be engaged every day.

And what if I am being far too easily pleased? What if He has even bigger things for me?

What about you? Will you join me in a prayer for His guidance?

Dearest Father, You are perfectly wise. I ask for your guidance as I approach my daily work. Help me find Your fingerprints on my plans. May my success glorify only You. Amen.

My last post about clearing out the stuff my packrat husband left behind was a tear-soaked missive. Okay, hold on, that’s the first time I’ve called my husband a packrat. (Well, in my writing, that is.)

Grieving and cleaning make strange bedfellows, in my view, though I expect that anyone who’s lost a family member can share similar yarns of joy and woe.

I’m obviously wrong about these two actions forming an odd pairing. They go together like wine and cheese: one is rarely found without the other. However, I wasn’t ready for the effect all this cleaning would have on my grief process. Honestly, I was totally unprepared for all the stages of grief and how nonlinear the process would be.

People depart this life and leave behind the stuff of a life well- or poorly-lived. The quality of the junk makes the case for how successfully one may have navigated his or her years.

When my mother moved to a senior living facility, she struggled to decide what decorative items to leave behind. She took too much with her, we all believed, and hoped a few weeks in the new place would illuminate that fact. It did not—still a lot of stuff under the bed and in her closet.

Left behind in her house, which we did sell, was so much stuff. The attic contained boxes moved there in 1978 — never to be opened again. Sigh. The boxes disintegrated in my hands. All that was left up there was literal trash — and it got swept out soon enough.

A burning question which no one could answer — who puts two bicycles in an attic? Why not sell them and move on? My youngest sibling moved out in 1980, for heaven’s sake!

Such questions fostered a new way of thinking about my things. I have a couple of collections I truly enjoy. But I must be ready for the one day — far off or possibly sooner than I expect — when I will be required to sift and whittle, or completely abandon some cherished belongings to a new collector.

My husband didn’t possess that point of view. I’m not sure what he thought about all the stuff. Well, I know he closed the door of that room at the end of the hall. The detritus is gone, but I chose to keep an old desk for my writing space and some stereo equipment for enjoying my favorite music.

Photo collage of my new room

It’s an enormous room that I plan to use for writing, reading, crafting, and general entertainment. One day maybe a grandchild will crawl on the floor or play with a Little Tikes kitchen set. A gal can dream!

I spent hours up there when I first completed the room — working on a puzzle while watching the NCAA tournament. I brought an unfinished bottle of wine with me so I didn’t have to go back downstairs!

What I can say with complete certainty — the room over the garage is finally finished. I hope this new room begins a productive chapter in my writing life. Me and my room — both with new leases on life.

I’ve been writing for over five years. I love writing, engaging with my readers in the comments, and reading what others have written so I can keep on learning.

In between cleaning, I’ve written four books, and have at least three more planned. Explore the fruits of my publishing journey over on my website, juliejranson.com. It’s undergoing its own cleanup and redesign, so bear with me!

I’ve written much about my dearly departed husband’s penchant for keeping things — not throwing anything away, that is. But color me surprised to find a yellow sticky note with directions to my house.

Bob’s friend, Randy, offered to help me clean out the room over the garage. I reminded him that he was responsible for “this mess” when he got Bob involved in rummaging through estate sales for treasures to sell online.

To be honest, some of the stuff is pretty interesting. For instance, I read a handwritten letter from an unknown fellow to a girl, dated 1940 — he affectionately chastised her for not writing him. I felt a bit like a voyeur. But more than that, I coveted the man’s gorgeous penmanship.

Then I found Bob’s note — blue ink on a three-by-three-inch square of yellow paper. It was stuck to another piece of paper of no significance. My address, two street turns, and my phone number was all it contained — in beautiful printed letters. Randy remarks often about how nice Bob’s handwriting was.

“Oh my goodness,” I uttered. Randy looked over as I held the paper in his direction.

“That’s your…?”

I interrupted him, nodding, “Directions to my house for our first date.”

Tears threatened. I took a deep breath.

“You should frame it,” he said. “That’s cool.”

“If we had any doubt that Bob didn’t throw anything away!” I responded. I took it to my bedroom for safekeeping. I couldn’t lose that, as we were steadily tossing things for trash, recycle, and resale. (Randy will be the reseller, not me. Once it’s out of my house, I plan to forget it. Little of the stuff in this room has any connection to me.)

The next few hours went by as they had the day before. We chuckled over the things Bob had accumulated, the odd things he’d chosen to keep. Amusement about it all keeps the resentment at bay, I am finding.

Later, I had to collect a prescription at CVS for our dog, Pepper. They asked for a birthday.

“For the dog?” I asked.

“No, yours.”

I gave mine, but it didn’t work. I sighed.

“It’s my husband’s then. He’s deceased.” I offered that detail in case it mattered because of the sedative drugs I was getting.

The dark-haired girl’s expression flickered, and I sensed her sympathy. She entered the information, and it went through.

While she did all the things she had to do to get the doggie drugs, I fought back the day’s emotions that were slamming around my heart and my head. When she concluded the transaction, she said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

I was grateful for her words, and sad that my loss affects others in such random ways. Yet, I must embrace this somewhat sordid kind of community because death is a part of life, and we’re all in this together, right?

I left the store and headed home, pondering this grief. I cannot detail for you the moments I have cried or felt pangs of loss. They’re too numerous, too fleeting, and occasionally indescribable.

How do we experience the sense of a person we’ve lost — their life, their absence, and the reminders that take on surprising forms?

I wonder about all the theories about grief. I had believed I’d go through some seven-step process and get a certificate at the end. Clearly, that is not going to happen. Nearly four years into widowhood, and I still get mail addressed to him. His name appears in the CVS computer, and I make the staff look sad. And the threat of tears burns my eyes nearly every time.

Bob is literally everywhere because he built this house. And because it was his house before he married me, the room over the garage was never part of my wifely domain. Indeed, after 2012 or so, I’m not sure Bob spent much time in there. Behind the door at the far end of a hallway there lived a treasury of his past, and a repository for many things he didn’t need (or want) to deal with. I stuck a thing or two in there as if it were an attic. And there’s an attic in this house, too!

When this room is emptied and has had a little facelift, the house might be ready. Ready for what, you ask? I’m not sure. For more life, more grandkids (please?), or whatever I eventually decide.

Eventually, I got a few more emotional surprises in that messy room. I’m hoping it becomes my new writing spot, where I’ll write about memories of a lovely man and the strange surprises he left behind for me to grieve over.

I’ve written numerous articles about the clearing out at my house, and I organized them neatly in this list over on Medium. I’m good like that — creating lists and piles of things is my jam.

The lists keep me busy and help maintain the facade of accomplishment. Some piles might be quite useless, but they’re organized.

Recently, I rented a dumpster to aid in the emptying of a garage. As I wrote in the post about my husband being a “keeper,” it’s a genuine struggle to stop acquiring. My husband’s keeper-disease necessitated the aforementioned dumpster.

My three kids and their significant others showed up on a Saturday morning and filled that dumpster. We also made two trips to the dump using Bob’s red Silverado!

I wish I could say it went perfectly… but it did not, because there was so much detritus piled in, on, and around furniture and shelves - I was unaware of some interesting contents. At least, my family thought they might be of monetary interest.

When questioned about a potentially valuable electronic “thing,” I had to sigh and say, “Okay, don’t toss it. Put it over there and I’ll research it later.” At project’s end, I had at least six dusty things to ponder.

So… the cleanup was work and then required more work on my part. At some point. If I don’t look at it soon, though, we all know what’s going to happen.

One of two things is likely to occur:
1) In frustration, I’ll just toss the whole mess of it.
2) Through future, inexplicable (haha) accumulations, those things will be buried under my detritus. Then, my poor children will have to handle that stuff when I have taken leave.

I don’t wish that fate on my kids, so take care of it, I will. Sooner rather than later.

I’ll add it to my to-do list!

I’ve been writing for over five years. I love writing, engaging with my readers in the comments, and reading what others have written so I can keep on learning.

In between cleaning, I’ve written four books, and have at least three more planned. Explore the fruits of my publishing journey over on my website, juliejranson.com. It’s undergoing its own cleanup and redesign, so bear with me!

No one who knows me would doubt that I adored my late husband, Bob. He meant so much to me. Bob was the kindest person I’ve ever known, truly. He “saw” me, and still loved me — for that, I will be eternally grateful.

When we got married, I and my two youngest children moved into a lovely home with him. He’d already lived there for over 20 years. I didn’t see all the things right away — the piles here and there. It was a blur. I was working, plus parenting teens. And then, I piled my piles on top of Bob’s piles in the attic and garage.

One morning a few years into marital bliss, I mentioned the stuff in the corner of a particular garage bay, wondering whether it was of real use. His response, I swear this is a quote: “I’m not dead yet.”

At work that same day, I talked to a friend about it. He basically said, “Over my dead body.” That’s what I heard. She didn’t know what to say.

So I never touched a thing. Hands off. Until now. He’s gone, and it’s all my responsibility.

After he died in 2022, I inherited empty product containers — the contents had evaporated somehow from unopened bottles. Weird, huh? Guess that’ll happen to liquids that sit in a garage for over ten years!

My oldest daughter suggested a second trash can, allowing me a slow, methodical process of gleaning and cleaning. Over three years, there were only rare weeks when I didn’t fill the second can.

It’s been a process — cleansing and diabolical at the same time. Cleansing as I free up space and see new possibilities. Diabolical because the decisions required on many days exceeded my bandwidth.

It’s quite overwhelming what my husband left behind. Multiple collections, some of which have value and others, eh, not so much. Deciding… therein lies the problem. What to keep, what to sell, what to toss?

Margareta Magnusson, author of the 2018 book, The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning: How to Make Your Loved Ones’ Lives Easier and Your Own Life More Pleasant, calls household clutter a “source of irritation.”

Irritation, indeed.

And now that I’m retired and widowed, I regularly ask myself, “Why am I here?” and “What’s next?”

And about my home, I continually ask… “what to keep, what to toss?”

The questions may seem easy to answer, but my weekly planner has included a task this week that reads, “organize kitchen cabinet.” This is ONE cabinet, mind you, and I’ve postponed it for five days. And if I don’t do it tomorrow, add another day.

Bob taught me an organizational lesson or two — on what not to do. (I love you, darling Bob!) I started on a minimizing journey while he was ill, and we had a few interesting conversations about the accumulation of “stuff.”

But the lesson I carry with me today is that I must examine everything that crosses my fingertips — evaluate its usefulness and its longevity over my remaining lifetime and into my children’s lifetimes. Do I want my children to mess with “this thing” in the future? It is an enormous question… and one I am putting to my children… now.

Do they want this thing, this collection? What will I keep because it still “sparks joy” for me? (haha, you’re a sicko, Marie Kondo!) Should I buy that pillow with the pithy summer saying about the porch, the beach, or lake life? I’d love a Fall ensemble for my bed, but…

The question I’m thinking of entertaining is this one:

If I buy a new household item, is there something somewhere in the house that can GO to create space for it? How about TWO things? I try to ask at times.

I’m not there yet. No… I have not “arrived” in minimalist heaven.

That I am having these thoughts and asking these questions shows I am growing, even while I consider shrinking my personal possessions.

And that excites me.

I’m a published author with a wonderful newsletter (so I’ve been told). If you enjoy news about writing and free books, give my newsletter a try.

Visit my website to find my books and other publishing news.