It is autumn. The air is cooler, and often scented with rain, and we’ve already found the first few gloriously gold and orange leaves from our spreading maple trees. Autumn is nothing if not a season of transition and contemplation and turning inward, and I’m trying to find ways to honor that. By making time for rest and leisure (a thing my achievement-oriented brain sometimes strenuously resists). By teaching myself to say, come nightfall, “today I have done enough”. By learning not just to say it, but to believe it.
The thing is, for the last few seasons of life, and for the first half of the pandemic, I’ve been very outward-focused, at least when it comes to work and the internet. In a bid to feel a little less out of control during a time when we’re all out of control, I seized at every opportunity that came my way, worked punishing hours, and poured myself into a variety of different online platforms. Unsurprisingly, none of it worked. It didn’t leave me feeling as if I had more agency over my job or my online presence. Instead, it left me feeling like Bilbo after his many years of bearing the Ring–that is, “like butter, scraped over too much bread.”
So I took August to regroup, and to think about what would actually give me the agency and feeling of security I’d begun to crave when working online. The internet can be a minefield, where ill-wishers wait for you to say the wrong thing, and where, in spite of yourself, you demonstrate the worst of your own personality in the heat of the moment, or in the course of a few thoughtless keystrokes. I’d rather not fall prey to any of the above.
Whenever I’m feeling harried, my first and best instinct is to slow down and turn inward, my own personal rhythms shifting towards a quiet and rejuvenating winter of the soul. So what would that turning inward look like online, I wondered? It would look like finding spaces where I can spend more time contemplating what I’d like to say before I say it. Where I manage the space and the narrative and the tone. It would mean being less present in many places in order to be more fully present in a few.
So I thought over my priorities, and what it is that I really love to do online. I love to write. I love to connect with people. I love to share glimpses of my life. And I know the readers and writers I’ve built friendships with online appreciate those things too. The things I don’t love are feeling pressured to respond to things the moment they happen, because it takes me a long time to process. I don’t love interacting with people who enter a conversation without goodwill and good faith. And I don’t love (or know anyone who does) feeling as if my words might be taken out of context, or twisted to mean something I never intended them too.
So I decided that this fall and winter, and for the foreseeable future, I’ll spend more of my time and energy on platforms that I control, and where I can move more slowly, and choose my words more carefully. Hence the website makeover–this is going to be my primary online home, and I wanted a new, simpler look and to be able to alter and update and keep everything current all on my own. I’m hoping to blog here more often–if you were a follower of my Patreon, it’ll be shutting down, and the sort of content you enjoyed there will now be available here, for the low, low cost of free 🙂
I’m planning to revisit my newsletter, too–during the last year I’ve let it slide, while chasing other forms of engagement. But I enjoyed composing it for all of you. It will now be releasing seasonally–on October 30th, January 30th, April 30th, and July 30th. (If that’s something you’d like to subscribe to, you can do so here.)
As far as actual social media goes, I’m limiting that. I’ll still be on Twitter a little, but not to the same extent as before. Goodbye to Facebook (which I hardly used anyway). Goodbye to Instagram (which was always more stressful than enjoyable). But I’m definitely keeping Pinterest, which I really love and find relaxing.
And that’s it. That’s the lineup I’ve come up with that feels best, and like I’ll be able to cultivate a balance between my own health and security, and the personal connections I enjoy making with other writers and readers. Besides that, I’ll be spending the fall as I always do–crafting earthy soups, baking yeasty things, writing wistful books, and teaching two little people that there is magic in the world if you only know where to find it.
If you’re interested in any or all of the above, I’ll be here, telling stories at the edge of the forest.
