Dear Somebody: New beginnings.

A completed exercise from LEARN TO LET GO: A JOURNAL FOR NEW BEGINNINGS (2026)

A year from now, here are five things from this week that I'd like to remember:

MONDAY 

This year, I didn’t do any sort of round-up: no list of achievements to close out 2025, no more/less lists to begin 2026, no resolutions, no catalog of what went right or wrong. This is a break from my usual tradition: I love taking inventory, assessing which path led to where, considering how to build a different future than the one hurtling straight towards me. 

Despite all of the good reflection does, I feel tired of, and from, looking back. I want to look forward, I only want the light of what can be…to be. 

A few days ago I received Issue #68 of Uppercase Magazine in the mail. I love writing and illustrating for this magazine, and year after year, I feel lucky that I get to. When I opened the pages, a smile rang in me. This illustration is one of my favorite drawings I made last year, to accompany an essay I wrote titled More Than Machine: Guidance for Creative Resistance. It might not be the best thing I made, but it is the most meaningful because it is proof of self-doubt and personal growth. It is a sharp claw towards hard change; it is finding a light in dark times. I am deeply connected to it, and by making it, I processed tough experiences and saw myself more clearly. 

“More Than Machine” for Issue #68 of Uppercase Magazine (2025)

I love that art can help us chronicle, understand, and heal. For me, it is a medicine I take as often as I can. It requires no skill or prescription, and asks nothing of us other than our willingness to take a look inside. For this, I am grateful. 

TUESDAY

This week, through Nicole Cardoza’s newsletter REIMAGINED, I learned that in 1980, Stevie Wonder wrote Happy Birthday to promote the establishing of Martin Luther King Jr. Day as a federal holiday. The song became the anthem of the movement led by Coretta Scott King, and Wonder joined her at rallies across the nation. 

WEDNESDAY

Sometimes I forget the magic of it all. 

My mind is on the pink soccer jersey we’re searching for. While T tries them on, I keep the girls occupied, pushing the red Target cart down the shiny white aisles. No, we have enough toys, I say; No, we have enough clothes, I say; No, no no. The girls are whiny. I am, too. 

We turn the corner and there it is: the new Wellbeing Reads display, and there I am—or a little part of me, at least—on the bottom left row. I beam, wishing I looked more human. The girls squeal and pick up copies, they attempt to take selfies. T arrives a few minutes later—nothing having fit correctly—and takes photos of a wintering me, and then a few more with the girls. 

Me kneeling in front of Target’s WELLBEING READS display, holding a copy of LEARN TO LET GO (2026)

The Ladies in front of Target’s WELLBEING READS display; N holding a copy of LEARN TO LET GO (2026)

I sit at my desk for hours on end, painting or writing or throwing drafts in the trash. The days turn into weeks, then months. The years peel by. A book comes into the world years after I’ve first sat down to write it, years after I’ve learned enough to put the words to paper. A book comes out into the world and slowly, caught up in the details of everyday life, I forget the magic of it all. 

A book comes out into the world, and months later, as I shop with my small family, we run right into it—and I remember, once again, how magical it is to make something that someone else can hold. To make something that my own children can hold, and read, and one day write in. 

One of my completed exercises from LEARN TO LET GO (2026)

I’m working through my own copy of LEARN TO LET GO at the moment. I haven’t worked through one of my own journals in a very long time, and I’m eager to plant new seeds for change in the pages of this book. 

One of the reasons I make these journals is because there is no end point for personal growth. It is with humility that I complete the exercises that I long ago wrote, seeing how far I have come—and how much further I still have to go. 

“Helped are those who are content to be themselves,” Alice Walker said. “They will never lack mystery in their lives and the joys of self-discovery will be constant.”

Each day, when I open a new page, I’m reminded by the magic of it all. 

THURSDAY

Ruth Franklin writes about Paul Simon and the horrifying state of our country; my very favorite New Year’s poem; Judit Orosz makes paper poetry; I’ll Try Anything by The Strokes; Denny’s in Japan. 

FRIDAY

I remember all the different kinds of years.
Angry, or brokenhearted, or afraid.
I remember feeling like that
walking up the mountain along the dirt path
to my broken house on the island.
And long years of waiting in Massachusetts.
The winter walking and hot summer walking.
I finally fell in love with all of it:
dirt, night, rock and far views.
It’s strange that my heart is as full
now as my desire was then. 

—Arriving Again and Again Without Noticing by Linda Gregg

• Dear Somebody: Should I Be Doing More? (January 24, 2025)

Of all the things you can put in front of your eyes, I’m grateful that my little letter is one of them. 

If you’d like to support me, please buy my books. My art prints and line of greeting cards make excellent gifts for yourself or a friend. You can also hire me for your next project—I’d love to work together. 

xx,
M

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Dear Somebody: How to get back up.

An illustration from LEARN TO LET GO which reads “The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.” —Ernest Hemingway (watercolor, 2025)

A year from now, here are five things from this week that I'd like to remember:

MONDAY 

In the month since I last wrote, I’ve wanted to write: about our trip to Mexico City, the first time T and I have gone anywhere, alone, since having N five years ago. The sights, smells, and sounds of a country so vibrant with culture and opinion and loyalty; how our two children missed us but were loved and cared for by hands that weren’t ours; of the new, incredible rush of knowing I can step outside of my own life without it falling apart. 

In the month since I last wrote, I’ve wanted to write: about K’s visit the first week of November; about our children who are growing to know and think of each other daily, though they are hundreds of miles apart; of a friendship that grows and changes, no longer dependent on daily connection; of friendship that runs on an underground rail line, traveling under arbitrary state lines and handfuls of years spent apart; of friendship that moves forward, steadily, through fallen rock, waste, and insult.

In the month since I last wrote, I’ve wanted to write: about N’s first time seeing The Nutcracker, her eyes lit up by sugar plum fairies and the pure strength of a ballerina; about our Thanksgiving and the best part of N’s day; about F’s desire for everyone to be together, always, smushed inside a giant group hug; about how my two small children seem bigger and bigger each day—the roundness draining from their cheeks, the language falling from their mouths cleaner than Winter herself. 

In the month since I last wrote, I’ve wanted to write. But I haven’t. Instead, like a genealogist, I’ve studied family trees, and how each of us carries what we inherit, including a good amount of rot. I can cut the rot away, if I have what it takes to do the cutting. Like an engineer, I’ve taken myself apart. Like an artist, I’ll put myself back together—not from the ground up, but from pretty far down, without all of the pieces I once thought I needed. 

I want to write more—for you, for myself. In the new year, I hope to. But in case I don’t, I’m writing to remind myself that a full life—one that is truly bursting with adventure and risk and joy, requires a lot of falling down and a lot of getting back up. 

Right now, I’m getting back up. And I’m taking my time. 

TUESDAY

For K’s birthday, I made her a tiny book:

Our House: A Tiny Book (watercolor and ink, 2025)

This was a joyful experience. I want to write a more in-depth process post about the making of this book early next year, but for now, I’ll say that making continues to be the foundation of my joy, hope, and health. The more I focus on the process of making, the less I focus on what I’ve made—and that makes all the difference.

WEDNESDAY

My annual joys include re-reading, watching, and listening to Raymond Briggs’ The Snowman—this year, we added The Bear to our watchlist. I’ve been listening to Elvis’ Christmas Album on repeat and sadly, I love it more and more with each listen. I still like watching the snow come down; I still like turning the space heater on; I still like drawing pictures on cold windows with my fingertips. 

THURSDAY

I received a few copies of the UK edition of LEARN TO LET GO, titled LEARNING TO LET GO from my publisher Michael O’Mara, and I’m stunned by how beautiful it is. 

Learning to Let Go, published by Michael O’Mara Books (2025)

Learning to Let Go, published by Michael O’Mara Books (2025)

Learning to Let Go, published by Michael O’Mara Books (2025)

I love the large format, with generous amounts of space for writing, the rounded edges, and the beautiful, thick paper they used. 

If you live overseas and are looking for a thoughtful, encouraging gift for yourself or a friend—I ask you to please consider purchasing a copy of the UK edition. It’s available through numerous outlets: LEARNING TO LET GO (UK EDITION).

For my friends who live here in the United States, please consider purchasing a copy of LEARN TO LET GO (US EDITION) from any of the following locations: 

Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop.org, Books A Million, BuyOlympia (*includes special limited edition print!), Hudson Booksellers, Target, Walmart.

Please also consider leaving a review so this book can reach more hands and help those who need it most. 

Thank you, always, for supporting my work and for being here. I look forward to writing this newsletter each week (even on the weeks I don’t manage to send one out!) and that’s because of you. <3 

FRIDAY

I am learning to abandon the world
before it can abandon me.
Already I have given up the moon
and snow, closing my shades
against the claims of white.
And the world has taken
my father, my friends.
I have given up melodic lines of hills,
moving to a flat, tuneless landscape.
And every night I give my body up
limb by limb, working upwards
across bone, towards the heart.
But morning comes with small
reprieves of coffee and birdsong.
A tree outside the window
which was simply shadow moments ago
takes back its branches twig
by leafy twig.
And as I take my body back
the sun lays its warm muzzle on my lap
as if to make amends.

—I Am Learning to Abandon the World by Linda Pastan

See you next week!

xx,

M

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Dear Somebody: N turns five years old.

N is five (mixed media, 2025)

A year from now, here are five things from this week that I'd like to remember:

MONDAY 

When N wakes up on her fifth birthday, the morning is ready. The sparkly lights have been hung, dangling over the bannister. The pom poms have been hung, twirled around the sparkly lights and the felted banner that reads happy birthday. The gifts are piled on top of the squishy yellow chair, waiting to be opened. The flamingo cake is baked and assembled, waiting to be eaten. The birthday breakfast is cooked and plated, a tiny candle on top, waiting to be blown out.

When N wakes up on her fifth birthday, her sister is ready. F follows her around with arms outstretched, longing to place them around her big sister. Happy birthday, N. Birthday huggie time! she screams over and over again, in the only pitch volume she knows: loud. F follows N from room to room, struggling to hug her while N struggles to walk away, struggling to hug her while N brushes her teeth. That’s enough hugs! N says, annoyed, and F, finally giving up, turns to me and says: I want my birthday to come out now.

When N wakes up on her fifth birthday, her father and I are ready. We’ve been talking about it for days now: how it’s been five years since we first became parents, how five is a milestone, how five means something. I recall every moment in the past five years when I have faltered under the weight of parenthood, and wish I’d been more present for the sweet child in front of me. I remind myself that all I can do is offer N who I am; give her the space necessary to dissent, grow, and learn; and to try—genuinely try, to live a little more graciously. A little more in the present. 

When N climbs into bed on the night of her fifth birthday, her bedroom is ready. The ceiling fan whirls. Her sparkly canopy gently sways. The stars on her walls twinkle and swirl. When I tuck her in, she asks me to stay and snuggles into me. She clutches my body like a toddler during drop off, so closely that I forget she’s five years old. So closely that I forget that next year she’ll be six, then twelve, and then out of my arms altogether. N is quiet. Her eyes are closed, but I know she’s awake because her hand moves so closely in mine. Quite suddenly, I don’t feel ready anymore. 

TUESDAY

N’s flamingo cake, on her fifth birthday (2025)

N requests a flamingo cake for her birthday and although I fret about it for weeks, it comes together quite nicely and with little difficulty. Five years into making birthday cakes for my kids, I feel something I rarely feel, which is pride: for taking on a task and accomplishing it, for making a young kid’s wish come true, for enjoying the process and letting the mistakes show. 

N eats a flamingo on her fifth birthday (2025)

Past cakes include F’s bluey cake, F’s rainbow cake, N’s rainbow cake, N’s painted cake.

WEDNESDAY

“A writer is a person who cares what words mean, what they say, how they say it. Writers know words are their way towards truth and freedom, and so they use them with care, with thought, with fear, with delight. By using words well they strengthen their souls. Story-tellers and poets spend their lives learning that skill and art of using words well. And their words make the souls of their readers stronger, brighter, deeper.” ―Ursula K. Le Guin

THURSDAY

To celebrate the publication of my journal, Learn to Let Go, I invited a few people I admire to share what they’re letting go of, and what they’re learning in the process. 

Today, I’m featuring New York Times Bestselling Author, wellness educator, and Restorative Writing teacher Alex Elle. Alex is also the author of How We Heal, a practical and empowering guide to self-healing. 

I’ve known Alex since my Brooklyn days, and it’s been stunning to see her growth over the years—as an author and artist, but also as a mother, partner, and friend. I’m so happy to share this space with her today. 

What have you let go of?

AE: I’ve let go of the belief that I have to prove my worth through overextending myself—creatively or personally. I no longer chase validation by saying yes when I mean no, or by holding onto relationships and projects that no longer align. Letting go of people-pleasing and performance has made space for deeper honesty, more intentional work, and a steadier connection to my own voice. What’s mine won’t require me to betray myself to keep it.

What did you gain when you released it?

AE: I gained a grounded sense of self-trust and the freedom to create, connect, and care from a place of alignment—not obligation.

What are you letting go of?

AE: I’m learning to let go of urgency—the need to have all the answers, fix what’s broken, or rush my healing..

What are you learning from this process?

AE: I’m learning that the more I unfurl, the more I bloom.

Many thanks to Alex for sharing a little bit of her journey with us. You can learn more about Alex’s work and subscribe to her newsletter, Gratitude Journal. 

P.S. Past interviews include Carolyn Yoo on letting go of artistic identity, and Malaka Gharib, on letting go of yes.

Learn to Let Go came out last week! Thank you to everyone who has bought, shared, and celebrated the release of this special book. 

In case you missed it, I spoke about acceptance, letting go, and making books with Radim Malinic on the Daring Creativity podcast. I joined my friend Kena Paranjape for a really lovely conversation about the book in the Supernova community. The book is featured in the latest issue of Uppercase Magazine (thank you, Janine!), and I joined Jessica Swift for a conversation about letting go in our creative practices at her Art Oasis retreat.

As a reminder, Bookshop.org is offering a 15% on all orders with the code LTLG15 for a limited time. This is a good time to grab a copy or two or five, especially for upcoming holiday gifts. You can also purchase from another shop listed here, or if you’re overseas, the UK edition. Thank you, always, for supporting my work. 

FRIDAY

On the bridge
A village witch
Tells me

You see nothing
Clearly, since in all your eyes
A fog gathers generations

—The Witch by Ye Hui

See you next week!

xx,

M

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Dear Somebody: It's publication day!

Hi, friends.

I’m sending out a special note today because it’s publication day for Learn to Let Go!

Learn to Let Go: A Journal for New Beginnings publishes today through TarcherPerigee (Penguin Random House) and is available through BuyOlympia, Bookshop.org (15% off , Barnes & Noble, Target, and Amazon.

The UK edition is available through Michael O’Mara Books and is in Waterstones bookstores everywhere. 

Learn to Let Go: A Journal for New Beginnings (2025)

This journal has been a long time coming. I’ve spent my entire life carrying baggage that’s too heavy: resentment, conversations that went wrong, anger, one-sided friendships, beliefs that don’t quite fit, the idea that I don’t have what it takes. It wasn’t until a few years ago—when N first came into the world, that I decided to put some of this weight down.

As a first-time mother, I carried a lot of unfair expectations for myself. I wanted to get it right—to be the best possible parent to this tiny little being. I owed that much to a child who didn’t ask to come into this world. The weight of this pressure caused me to buckle, more and more until I finally broke. I couldn’t be the best mother and the best writer. I couldn’t be the best partner and the best friend. I couldn’t keep a clean house and make progress on my work. I couldn’t cook healthy, fresh meals and meet my deadlines. What I wanted, above all else, was to be somebody who could. 

The biggest source of anger, the most heartbreaking source of friction during these years wasn’t my new role as a mother, the new responsibility of a child, or the countless sources of exhaustion that this new chapter presented: it was my simple inability to let go. 

I didn’t realize that the pressure I placed on myself to be a great mother was preventing me from stepping into this new role with confidence, with assurance. I didn’t realize that dwelling on all that had changed kept me from seeing the good blossoming in those very same spaces. I didn’t realize that resenting myself for who I no longer was prohibited me from seeing how I had grown and become someone new: someone that I didn’t recognize yet, but that I would soon grow to love—and to admire and respect, if I gave myself the chance to. 

In writing this journal, I learned that although I resented myself for not being able to let go of more sooner, letting go isn’t a practice to rid myself of discomfort or dynamics that cause me pain. Instead, pursuit of acceptance—of myself and the circumstances I find myself in—is a much more practical journey. It provides room for growth, encourages me to maintain perspective, and naturally allows me to let go of what no longer fits. 

LEARN TO LET GO is a fully-illustrated journal for opening the door to new beginnings, designed to help you clarify the values necessary for accepting who you are now, so you can grow into the person you want to be. The book becomes more challenging as you work through it, ensuring that you’ve completed the self-reflection necessary for letting go of the more difficult sources of pain, frustration, and confusion.

Each page of this journal is filled with encouraging quotes by world leaders, creatives, and activists who have faced their own challenges with acceptance and compassion; thoughtful exercises that encourage you to find the value and strength in yourself; and challenging prompts that will help you face your current challenges, navigate difficult transitions, and leave what no longer serves you behind. 

This book is guided by four core beliefs: a belief in one’s own infinity; forgiveness, for yourself and others; a commitment to self-reflection and flexibility, and letting go as a practice of health maintenance. It encourages you to clarify your values; to strengthen your resources by exercising them; to accept and acknowledge your circumstances; and to remain open-hearted and brave.

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Here’s how you can support Learn to Let Go: 

• Order a copy (or like, five) of Learn to Let Go: A Journal for New Beginnings

• Forward this newsletter to someone who will appreciate this book!

• Ask your local library to carry the book if you can’t afford to purchase it—knowing that your entire neighborhood will now have access to it!

• Ask your local bookstore to carry the book. I love local bookstores and want to support them as much as possible throughout this launch. 

• Write a review on Amazon so more people can find this book

• If you want to review or write about Learn to Let Go (or know someone who might), feature it in your publication/podcast/etc., or interview me — just reply to this email to reach me. Every little bit helps.

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THANK YOU for reading and for all of your support and encouragement. It means the world to me. 

See you on Friday with a new edition of Dear Somebody, when I’ll talk a little more about letting go, have a new illustrated interview ready for you—and, of course, a poem.

xx,

M

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Dear Somebody: Letting go of yes.

October desk (2025)

A year from now, here are five things from this week that I'd like to remember:

MONDAY 

There is a thought that I keep close to my heart and consider often: There are so many beautiful things waiting for me on the other side of my fear. I am careful to welcome new people and experiences, despite the chance of rejection, because just as likely is the chance that my vulnerability will introduce me to a brighter world—one where I feel comfortable being fully seen and understood.

I’ve built up resilience against rejection knowing that if someone is incapable of accepting my honesty, it’s because they are engaged in a battle against themselves, not against me. Vulnerability creates a renewable energy—each time I open myself up, I am encouraged by how this simple act can bring me closer to someone else. When I give another person the chance to see me, I also give myself the opportunity to love myself more. The wins are worth the wounds—each time I share a part of myself and see the hint of recognition in someone else’s eyes, I see myself, again, for the very first time.

—from How it Feels to Find Yourself: Navigating Life’s Changes with Clarity, Purpose, and Heart, my book of illustrated essays

TUESDAY

On Artists and Hopelessness by Beth Pickens; Helen Keller’s moment of realization; the artwork of ATAK.

WEDNESDAY

Words by Georgia O’Keefe that have stayed by my side this week:

“I have already settled it for myself so flattery and criticism go down the same drain and I am quite free.”

“Nobody sees a flower - really - it is so small it takes time - we haven’t time - and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time.” 

“I wish people were all trees and I think I could enjoy them then.”

My studio mate Georgia O’Keefe, made by artist Krista Coons (2025)

THURSDAY

To celebrate the upcoming publication of my journal, Learn to Let Go, I invited a few people I admire to share what they’re letting go of, and what they’re learning in the process. 

Today, I’m featuring journalist, cartoonist, and graphic novelist Malaka Gharib. Malaka is the author of the beloved I Was Their American Dream and It Won’t Always Be Like This.

What are you letting go of?

MG: I became a parent two and a half years ago and I’ve had to learn how to say no a lot more…to hanging out with friends, to the social life I was used to, to a lot of the free time I had to making art, reading, writing and seeking inspiration through art, music and film.

What did you gain?

MG: I learned I was spending a lot of time with people who didn’t matter—and actually, I was learning for the first time to seek inspiration from the present and to live fully in the moment. In a lot of my artwork and writing, I am writing about the past, but with a child, you learn to appreciate the joys of every passing moment because my time with him is so fleeting.

Many thanks to Malaka for sharing so intimately with us. You can follow Malaka’s work here and check out her books here. 

P.S. Last week’s interview was with the lovely Carolyn Yoo:

In case you missed it, I spoke about acceptance, letting go, and making books with Radim Malinic on the Daring Creativity podcast. 

We’re only one week away from the publication of Learn to Let Go, and I’m happy to share that for a limited time, Bookshop.org is offering a 15% on all orders with the code LTLG15. A good time to grab a copy or two or five! 

You can also purchase from another shop listed here, or if you’re overseas, the UK edition. Thank you, always, for supporting my work. 

FRIDAY

One: from The First Elegy

Yes—springtime needed you. Often a star
was waiting for you to notice it. A wave rolled toward you
out of the distant past, or as you walked
under an open window, a violin
yielded itself to your hearing. All that was mission.
But could you accomplish it? Weren’t you always
distracted by expectation, as if every event
announced a beloved? (Where can you find a place
to keep her, with all the huge strange thoughts inside you
going and coming and often staying all night.)

—The First Elegy by Rainer Maria Rilke

See you next week!

xx,

M

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Dear Somebody: Speckles and streamers.

A beautiful Midwestern ripped sky, in September (2025)

A year from now, here are five things from this week that I'd like to remember:

MONDAY 

When I pick N up from school lately, the conversation is minimal. She’s tired; I’m tired; we drive along in silence, each of us held quiet by our own thoughts. Every so often, I check on her in the rearview mirror. She catches me looking and gives me a small smile. Sometimes the smile is genuine, pleased at being noticed. Other times, I get the feeling that the smile is for me—obligatory, a response to my unasked questions. It reminds me that, day by day, she’s growing up: growing accustomed to social rules and performances, growing aware of another person’s gaze on her, growing an invisible shield between her mind and mine. Slipping through my fingers.

Today is different. From the moment I buckle her into the carseat, N’s mind and eyes are locked into one thing only: the clouds. Mom, she says. Did you notice the clouds today? I squint around the sunlight striking my windshield and look at the sky. The clouds are in tatters, sprinkling the blue sky in bits and patches, like an animal tearing its way through a fresh carpet. Others streak across the wide sky in ribbons, long lines that travel as far as we can see.

Streamer clouds (2025)

Speckle clouds (2025)

What kind of clouds are those? N asks me, curious. Prompted to remember what little I know about clouds, I recall three of the four main classifications and I consider them aloud. They don’t look like cumulus clouds, I reason. Those are…popcorn-like? I remember that cirrus clouds are wispy, which none of these are, and stratus? No idea there. 

While I’m busy talking to myself, N classifies the clouds herself. The long ones are streamers, she says, like the kind you bring to a party. And the rest are ripped out of the sky, like speckles. Speckles and streamers.

There’s little else that excites me more than hearing N describe the world. Her use of language is extremely visual; it isn’t difficult for me to imagine what she sees. Her choice of words feels intimate, considered. Though her vocabulary is smaller than mine, she chooses words carefully, with affection. 

For the next thirty minutes, we drive on in excitement. N points out each unusual cloud she sees and takes photos of them with my phone. There’s a few cloud-shaped ones,she says, spotting a cumulus. There’s a spaceship one. And that one is a sea streamer, because it waves up at the end. Like a whale.

As we grow closer to the intersection where I make a left for F’s school, she laments: the cloud she loves most will disappear from her view. Mom, make sure you look at this cloud before you turn, she says, her cheeks pressed to the window. Isn’t the sky really just so beautiful today? I turn around and look at her, my sweet stormy cloud. Often full of rain and a bolt or two. In a few weeks, she’ll be five. 

Yeah, I say, staring at her staring out the window. The most beautiful thing I can see.

TUESDAY

On the value of shame, which I hadn’t considered before: 

“Very few of us are moral saints—certainly not me. Unlike everlasting, lofty, abstract principles, we who try feebly to live up to them down in the muck of reality face mucky obstacles: we get tired, impatient, envious, and angry. Our values and principles ask more than most of us are able to give—if they don’t, they are probably too weak to be worth holding. But we don’t have to celebrate our failures or, worse still, confuse them with our successes. This is one valuable function of shame: it reminds us of who we want to be when we fall short, a goalpost that is necessarily anchored to the lofty height that our conduct fell beneath. We also encourage and defend these general social standards when we hold others to them, and not just ourselves.”

—from How Can We Live Together? by Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò

WEDNESDAY

My first Diwali card with Biely & Shoaf! (2025)

I’m very excited to share my first Diwali card with you, made in collaboration with Biely & Shoaf! When I began my career a decade ago, no publisher would consider creating a Diwali card with me—really—and so, many years later, this feels like a small win. A win: for me, for the culture, for the field of illustration, for all of us. 

You can purchase this card on the Biely & Shoaf website. 

THURSDAY

To celebrate the upcoming publication of my journal, Learn to Let Go, I invited a few people I admire to share what they’re letting go of, and what they’re learning in the process. 

Today, I’m featuring art, illustrator, and writer Carolyn Yoo. She writes the newsletter SEE YOU, which focuses on the intersection of creativity and self-discovery. I particularly enjoy the way Carolyn views creativity: holistically, as an integral component of good health. Her writing often provides me with something useful to consider or implement into my own creative routine. 

A Portrait of Carolyn Yoo (2025)

What are you letting go of?

CY: A clear artistic identity.

What is this process teaching you?

CY: I’m allowing myself to inhabit the mystery of my interior mind, paying attention to what I’m drawn to and letting all of it percolate into my work with self-trust, without worrying if I make sense to others.

Many thanks to Carolyn for offering a glimpse into her current practice of letting go—a practice that many of us creatives may find useful. You can see Carolyn’s work hereand sign up for her newsletter here. 

In case you missed it, I spoke about acceptance, letting go, and making books with Radim Malinic on the Daring Creativity podcast. 

We’re only two weeks away from the publication of Learn to Let Go, and I’m happy to share that for a limited time, Bookshop.org is offering a 15% on all orders with the code LTLG15. A good time to grab a copy or two or five!

Thank you, always, for supporting my work. 

FRIDAY

it rained in my sleep
and in the morning the fields were wet
I dreamed of artillery
of the thunder of horses
in the morning the fields were strewn
with twigs and leaves
as if after a battle
or a sudden journey
I went to sleep in the summer
I dreamed of rain
in the morning the fields were wet
and it was autumn

—September by Linda Pastan

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Two years ago, these were the five things I most wanted to remember:

Dear Somebody: Inyeon. (October 6, 2023)

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See you next week!

xx,

M

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To sign up for my weekly newsletter, Dear Somebody, please subscribe here.

Dear Somebody: Learn to let go.

The first time I held a printed copy of Learn to Let Go (Saint Louis, 2025)

A year from now, here are five things from this week that I'd like to remember:

MONDAY 

I am excited to reveal the cover for my upcoming journal, Learn to Let Go: A Journal for New Beginnings! This cover came together after many, many rejected concepts and sketches, and after much back and forth between me and my design team. 

In the end, I am pleased: it is bright, joyful, and reinforces the beauty in letting go: only by relinquishing our attachment to the emotions, relationships, and dynamics that weigh us down can we create the space necessary for new, evolutionary growth. 

I will speak a lot more about this journal in the upcoming months—I have a slew of comics and interviews (all about letting go!) that I’m excited to make and share with you. Releasing the unfair expectations I have of myself—as a mother, artist, and general human-person—has been a reoccurring lesson over the past few years and I’m strangely excited to dip into these reflections and share how I’ve grown.

If you have the means to pre-order and support this journal, please do—pre-ordering now will make a huge difference in the success of this book! 

As I’ve written before, pre-orders are vital to the success of any book. All publishers rely on pre-orders (and sales, in general) to see whether the books we write resonate with people and whether they should continue supporting us in creating them. Strong pre-orders for this book indicate strong interest. Strong interest encourages my publisher to buy my next book.

More than that, pre-orders signal to my publisher—and the larger world of book publishing—that the work I’m making is important. That talking about emotions, vulnerability, and the complexity of the human condition is important. That a person will be required to let go of that which hurts them, but that sometimes, they’ll have to make peace with the loss of a thing, or a person, or a place they loved, too—and that it’s okay to need help. 

Below are links to the regulars; I’ll update this list as the book becomes more widely available:

Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop.org, Books A Million, Hudson Booksellers, Target, Walmart

As always—thank you for reading, engaging, pre-ordering, and supporting my work. Every little bit helps, and I am ever so grateful. 

TUESDAY

“On returning from a walk today I said to myself that I would not be like some girls, who are comparatively serious and reserved. I do not understand how this seriousness comes; how from childhood one passes to the state of girlhood. I asked myself, "How does this happen? Little by little, or in a single day?" Love, or a misfortune, is what develops, ripens, or alters the character.

If I were a bel esprit I should say they were synonymous terms; but I do not say so, for love is the most beautiful thing in the whole world. I compare myself to a piece of water that is frozen in its depths, and has motion only on the surface, for nothing amuses or interests me in my DEPTHS.”

—from artist and writer Marie Bashkirtseff’s diary, Marie Bashkirtseff: The Journal of a Young Artist, 1860-1884

WEDNESDAY

As I continue to research, practice, and begin to incorporate various methods of collage and printmaking into my art, I’ve been unable to get the work of María Berrío out of my head.

Aminata Linnaea, 2013 by María Berrío, courtesy of Victoria Miro

Berrío works primarily by layerring hundreds of torn, cut, and collaged pieces of Japanese paper on top of each other. She then adds light, shadow, and detail using watercolor or acrylic washes, pencil, and ink. The effect is dazzling. I love her use of color and pattern, and especially how her figures remain starkly flat throughout.

THURSDAY

“Satori is kind of enlightenment in life. These moments of illumination: Lying in bed at night, and all of a sudden you realize, I need to be a better partner, a better brother, be more patient, stop being petty. Then you wake up and life happens — a bad work email, someone’s being annoying — and you lose sight of all of that. So satori is a brief window, and the idea for Buddhists is to allow the understanding in that brief window to alter your life.”

—from an interview with Ocean Vuong in The New York Times

FRIDAY

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it
go,
to let it go.

—In Blackwater Woods by Mary Oliver

See you next week!

xx,

M

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Dear Somebody: In the midst of things.

Stay Golden, four-color risograph. Printed by Land Gallery in Portland, Oregon (2024)

A year from now, here are five things from this week that I'd like to remember:

MONDAY 

I plot the process for my current book, drawing a path that can take me from concept sketches to final paintings and then production work. I follow the path, and for awhile, all goes according to plan: I collect inspiration; I draw initial concepts and then four rounds of revised sketches; I kill my darlings, I stay open to criticism. 

I keep to the path but the path stops making sense. The more I work on sketches, the more afraid I feel of making final drawings. The more I work on perfecting my linework, the more afraid I feel of picking up a paintbrush. I don’t want to fail; I know I will. 

I’m overwhelmed by how circuitous the path has become, as if it were designed to keep me from progression. But the path is a line, not a loop—and hadn’t I drawn it myself? I know how I like to work: matter of factly, like a machine. I know how I like my process to feel: clean, orderly, with little friction. I know what I want to create: surprise, the unfolding of what I haven’t planned. 

On Saturday morning, I visit Chris Wubbena’s exhibit at The St. Louis Artist’s Guild. It’s titled In the Midst of Things. Each sculpture is created by the enmeshment of everyday objects, each removed from where they once stood in the middle of their own respective lives. I walked around the room of miniature buildings, some tilted at precarious angles or stacked atop slippery mixtapes. There are poems in the center of these buildings; there are voices and video; there are people and their stories. All smushed together. All leaking surprise. Somewhere in the middle. 

In the midst of things is a literary device where the narrative work begins in the middle of the plot—not at the beginning. Though I carefully designed my creative process to keep my fear and anxiety at bay, it only cultivates more of both. It encourages me to continue planning instead of creating. It forces me to stay in the beginning so I never have to be in the middle—and the middle is where surprise lives. 

When I come home from the exhibit, I say goodbye to my plan. My studio is a mess. I’ve only properly sketched out half of the book, but instead of planning the rest, I jump into a final painting. I choose colors like an artist instead of a scientist; I let myself feel. I swish the paint around on the page, I let it pool where it shouldn’t. This painting isn’t from the beginning of the book, nor at the end. It’s page 17—right in the middle of the story, where all of the surprises are still waiting to happen. 

I have a bunch of thumbnails, only one final drawing, and more questions than answers—but I know the answers are somewhere in here, beneath the gouache tubes and tracing paper and my own apprehension. It feels messy being in the middle, but I also feel the satisfying stretch of discomfort—of knowing my mind is working under conditions it isn’t used to, that my body is familiarizing itself with a feeling that isn’t easy.

I don’t know how to paint this book, but I’m figuring it out. It’s messy where I am, but I stand my ground. I’m on the cusp of unraveling a mystery, of finding water, of waking up in the place where it all finally begins to make sense. 

Standing in the middle, I begin to understand it—where surprise really lives. It’s somewhere here: in the midst of things. 

TUESDAY

Stay Golden, four-color risograph (2024)

Stay Golden, four-color risograph (2024, detail shot)

After much experimentation, Stay Golden is available as a four-color risograph print! It was printed very thoughtfully in blue, yellow, green, and magenta inks by Land Gallery in Portland, Oregon. It is available exclusively through Buy Olympia. 

Many thanks to Pat for all of his hard work and dedication in making this edition happen! 

Stay Golden crewneck sweatshirts, made in collaboration with Golden Hour

The original Stay Golden crewneck, made in collaboration with Golden Hour Candle Co., is available here — perfect for this crisp, cool weather. Both make excellent gifts.

WEDNESDAY

“You will take bits from books you’ve read and movies you’ve seen and conversations you’ve had and stories friends have told you, and half the time you won’t even realize you’re doing it. I am a compost heap, and everything I interact with, every experience I’ve had, gets shoveled onto the heap where it eventually mulches down, is digested and excreted by worms, and rots. It’s from that rich, dark humus, the combination of what you encountered, what you know and what you’ve forgotten, that ideas start to grow.” 

—from Ann Patchett’s This is The Story of a Happy Marriage

I am still working my way through all of Emile Mosseri’s film scores, which is my current favorite music to write or draw to. My family is tired of the Minari soundtrack, so now I’ve moved onto Kajillionaire, The Last Black Man in San Francisco, and Homecoming. 

As a middle-schooler, I was hugely mesmerized by Frank L. Baum’s method of worldbuilding. I bookmarked this piece by John Updike to understand more about how a series of intricately-crafted books continue to be overshadowed by the film they inspired.

Lastly, I loved this list on how to reassess your childhood relationships by Malaka Gharib—thoughtfully provoking. 

THURSDAY

I was pleased to receive a few copies of the French edition of Go Your Own Way, from my French publisher, Le Livre de Poche! 

The French edition is available here, and the English version is available here. 

FRIDAY

Leave the dishes.
Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator
and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.
Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.
Throw the cracked bowl out and don’t patch the cup.
Don’t patch anything. Don’t mend. Buy safety pins.
Don’t even sew on a button.
Let the wind have its way, then the earth
that invades as dust and then the dead
foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.
Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.
Don’t keep all the pieces of the puzzles
or the doll’s tiny shoes in pairs, don’t worry
who uses whose toothbrush or if anything
matches, at all.
Except one word to another. Or a thought.
Pursue the authentic-decide first
what is authentic,
then go after it with all your heart.
Your heart, that place
you don’t even think of cleaning out.
That closet stuffed with savage mementos.
Don’t sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth
or worry if we’re all eating cereal for dinner
again. Don’t answer the telephone, ever,
or weep over anything at all that breaks.
Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons
in the refrigerator. Accept new forms of life
and talk to the dead
who drift in through the screened windows, who collect
patiently on the tops of food jars and books.
Recycle the mail, don’t read it, don’t read anything
except what destroys
the insulation between yourself and your experience
or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters
this ruse you call necessity.

—Advice to Myself by Louise Erdrich

See you next week!

xx,

M

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Dear Somebody: It's publication day!

Hi, friends.

I’m sending out a special note today because it’s publication day for Go Your Own Way!

Go Your Own Way: A Journal for Building Self-Confidence publishes today through TarcherPerigee (Penguin Random House) and is available through BuyOlympia, Bookshop.org, Barnes & Noble, Target, and Amazon.

The UK edition is available through PenguinUK and is in Waterstones bookstores everywhere.

This idea for this book was born from a place of confidence. I knew, with certainty, that I wanted to make a journal that embraced our differences—a journal that encouraged others to take the road less traveled, the way I have in my own life. Though an unconventional path is lonely and difficult at times, it is also beautiful and incredibly fulfilling; I wanted readers to know this. I wanted them to take the risk, to give themselves the gift of surprise—of looking back at their own lives a year from now, and saying: Whoa. I can’t believe I did that.

Though the idea for this book was born from a place of confidence, it was written from a place of insecurity. When I began writing Go Your Own Way, I was still a new first-time mother, having freshly given birth and plunged into motherhood during the pandemic. N was 8 months old when we moved from Nashville to St. Louis so I could begin graduate school at Washington University. I was in a new city, in a new state, trying on these new identities of mother and student while searching, feverishly, for all of the people I used to be. 

I didn’t realize the impact that this combination of change would have on my self-esteem, but it became obvious pretty quickly: I was lost, unsure of where I wanted to go or how to get there. I knew I didn’t feel good about myself, that I didn’t feel like myself—but I didn’t know how to change it.

It turned out that having zero self-esteem was the perfect place for me to be. 

In writing this journal, I learned that although self-confidence can be shaken by large change—say, having a child and shaping it into a critically-thinking-and-feeling person—it is something that can be built back, again and again. Learning to stumble along your own path, however rocky or dark it may be, is the only way to build self-confidence. It is the only way to forge meaningful connections with yourself and others—and to create a life that ultimately reflects your own strengths, values, and priorities. 

I spent the last two years in graduate school while settling into our new home in our new city. Along the way, my 8-month old turned into a toddler, and then a child. I learned how to parent. I began feeling less like an imposter, more like a mother. I wrote How it Feels to Find Yourself (which published in May!) and then Go Your Own Way. I carried and birthed my second child during my final year of school, and graduated with my MFA a few weeks later. 

It's been...a whirlwind. A beautiful, difficult, challenging whirlwind. All of this is to say: I've really gone my own way. The confidence I have comes from knowing I can, because I did. 

Like all muscles, confidence strengthens with use; it grows as you do. It is not boastful or arrogant. It is quietly self-assuring, the little fire inside you that knows who you are is exactly who you should be—and that it is always best to go your own way. 

Purchase GO YOUR OWN WAY

GO YOUR OWN WAY is a fully-illustrated journal for building self-confidence, designed to help you cultivate the inner trust necessary for making healthy decisions and facing disappointment with resilience. Through the pages of this book, you’ll gain the strength necessary to recognize and speak your truths, create healthy boundaries, and take steps towards the future you envision for yourself. Transitioning from safe prompts to more challenging exercises, this journal recognizes that genuine self-esteem blooms slowly and deliberately, over time.

Each page of this journal is filled with comforting, empathetic quotes by world leaders, artists, and activists who have faced their own challenges with self-confidence and acceptance; thoughtful exercises that encourage you to find the value and beauty in yourself, and challenging prompts that help build a quiet, steady self-confidence that cannot be eroded by any external element. 

Purchase GO YOUR OWN WAY

Here’s how you can support Go Your Own Way: 

• Order a copy (or like, five) of Go Your Own Way: A Journal for Building Self-Confidence

• Forward this newsletter to someone who will appreciate this book!

• Ask your local library to carry the book if you can’t afford to purchase it—knowing that your entire neighborhood will now have access to it!

• Ask your local bookstore to carry the book. I love local bookstores and want to support them as much as possible throughout this launch. 

• Write a review on Amazon so more people can find this book

• If you want to review or write about Go Your Own Way (or know someone who might), feature it in your publication/podcast/etc., or interview me — just reply to this email to reach me. Every little bit helps.

Purchase GO YOUR OWN WAY

THANK YOU for reading and for all of your support and encouragement. It means the world to me. 

See you on Friday with a new edition of Dear Somebody, where I’ll talk a little more about self-confidence, the making of this book—and celebration.

xx,

M

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To sign up for my weekly newsletter, Dear Somebody, please subscribe here.

Dear Somebody: Go Your Own Way

Hi, everyone—

I’m writing to you today, on a Monday morning, with an exciting reveal: the cover for my upcoming journal, GO YOUR OWN WAY: A JOURNAL FOR BUILDING SELF-CONFIDENCE, which will be published on October 24, 2023 by TarcherPerigee (Penguin Random House)!

Go Your Own Way is a journal for building self-confidence. The pages of this book will help you in outlining your personal values, feeling more comfortable in your skin, and gaining confidence in who you are. You will cultivate the strength necessary to recognize and speak your truths, while creating healthy boundaries that protect your sense of self. Most importantly, Go Your Own Way offers guidance in developing inner trust—necessary for taking risks, facing challenges, and progressing in the direction of your dreams. 

PRE-ORDER GO YOUR OWN WAY

A spread from Go Your Own Way

I wrote this book while completing my final year of graduate school. I painted all of the art for it while working on my thesis project, pregnant with my now-five-month old daughter. I created the journal I needed at the time: the one that would help me as a new mother—a new student—a person in a new city—who felt incredibly lost, insecure, and uncertain…see herself once again. 

If you’ve enjoyed my previous journals, this book is for you. If you find yourself thrown by a new chapter in your life, this book is for you. If you know someone who could use a little help finding their way back to themselves, this book is a thoughtful way to let them know you’re on their side. 

PRE-ORDER GO YOUR OWN WAY

Pre-orders are vital to the success of any book. All publishers rely on pre-orders (and sales, in general) to see whether the books we write resonate with people and whether they should continue supporting us in creating them. Strong pre-orders for this book indicate strong interest. Strong interest encourages my publisher to buy my next book. 

More than that, pre-orders signal to my publisher—and the larger world of book publishing—that the work I’m making is important. That talking about emotions, vulnerability, and the complexity of the human condition is important. That a person’s self-confidence will be shaken, time and time again, and that it is natural. That we all need help sometimes. That learning to like and love ourselves is integral in raising children who will like, love, and respect themselves, too. 

That creating books of value, with the intent of widening a reader’s mind and heart, is more important than a book designed to simply look good on the Internet. 

So, how can you support me and this work?

• Pre-order a copy (or five!) of Go Your Own Way: A Journal for Building Self-Confidence

• Forward this newsletter to someone who will appreciate this book!

• Ask your local library to carry the book if you can’t afford to purchase it—knowing that your entire neighborhood will now have access to it!

• Ask your local bookstore to carry the book. I love local bookstores and want to support them as much as possible throughout this launch. 

• If you want to review or write about Go Your Own Way (or know someone who might), feature it in your publication/podcast/etc., or interview me — just reply to this email to reach me. Every little bit helps.

THANK YOU for reading and for all of your support. I wouldn’t be doing what I do without y’all. I’m incredibly lucky to have this community; that is never lost on me.

See you on Friday with a new edition of Dear Somebody! 

xx,

M

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To sign up for my weekly newsletter, Dear Somebody, please subscribe here.

Dear Somebody: It's publication day!

Hi, friends.

I’m sending out a special note today because it’s publication day for How it Feels to Find Yourself!

This book is a hard won piece of my heart. I wrote the proposal and sold the book to my publisher during my first, extremely difficult pregnancy, while isolated on our farm in Nashville during the beginning of the pandemic. I then wrote the book, while still isolated on our farm, throughout the pandemic—this time with a tiny, crying newborn by my side.

The various sunrises I captured from our Nashville farm, while writing before the baby (and the world) woke.

I often woke up at 4:30 am to write in the darkness before the baby woke, watching the sun creep up over the tree line. I wrote in the bathroom, my laptop balanced on the vanity, wearing the baby while the exhaust fan hummed her to sleep. I wrote in a room full of unpacked boxes and utter debris during our move from Nashville to St. Louis, desperate to finish the manuscript before beginning my first semester of graduate school—which I was unable to do. I wrote the book in the mornings before and the evenings after class, while T took N to the zoo or the playground. I wrote on the weekends, around my homework and N’s nap schedule, wishing I had a little less on my plate. Like all good things, the writing in this book grew from a combination of determination, persistence, many tears, and a lot of support. 

I could not have written this book without my husband, T, who helped make it a priority for me to write, even when it came at the cost of his own work and ambition. I could not have written this book without my parents, who put their lives on hold to live mine with me throughout graduate school. I could not have written this book without N, who was with me first in my belly and then in my arms, and about whom so many of these essays are written. 

Early mornings with N on the farm, after I’d spend a few hours writing while she slept.

Purchase HOW IT FEELS TO FIND YOURSELF

“The book that we all need…It reminds us that regardless of the day we’ve experienced, we are still beautifully and devastatingly hopeful and human.”

–Cyndie Spiegal, best-selling author of Microjoys

HOW IT FEELS TO FIND YOURSELF is a collection of paint palettes and short essays. Together, they work harmoniously in offering guidance for navigating the most important relationship in our lives: the one we have with ourselves. The book is full of thoughtful reflections on parenthood, friendship, love (for others and ourselves), family dynamics, and the larger questions we carry about finding our place in the world. Each essay is accompanied by a vibrant paint palette designed to help you find your way through the moment you’re in. 

If you enjoy reading this newsletter, this book is for you.

Purchase HOW IT FEELS TO FIND YOURSELF

Because of the year I’ve had (pregnancy, graduate school, and now a newborn), I’ve decided not to commit to my usual book events, interviews, or in-person signings. Instead, I’m hoping those of you who are really interested in my work will choose to support this book—and I hope that it will help you find a part of yourself that’s been hidden.

Here’s how you can support How it Feels to Find Yourself:

• Order a copy (or like, five) of How it Feels to Find Yourself

• Forward this newsletter to someone who will appreciate this book!

• Ask your local library to carry the book if you can’t afford to purchase it—knowing that your entire neighborhood will now have access to it!

• Ask your local bookstore to carry the book. I love local bookstores and want to support them as much as possible throughout this launch. 

• Write a review on Amazon so more people can find this book

• If you want to review or write about How it Feels to Find Yourself (or know someone who might), feature it in your publication/podcast/etc., or interview me — just reply to this email to reach me. Every little bit helps.

Purchase HOW IT FEELS TO FIND YOURSELF

THANK YOU for reading and for all of your support and encouragement. It means the world to me. 

See you on Friday with a new edition of Dear Somebody, where I’ll go a little bit deeper into the making of this book.

xx,

M

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To sign up for my weekly newsletter, Dear Somebody, please subscribe here.

Dear Somebody: How it Feels to Find Yourself

The cover of my upcoming book of essays, How it Feels to Find Yourself!

Hi, friends.

Today’s newsletter is a departure from our usual while I reveal the cover for my upcoming book, HOW IT FEELS TO FIND YOURSELF: Navigating Life’s Changes with Purpose, Clarity, and Heart, which will be published on May 23, 2023 by TarcherPerigee (Penguin Random House). 

HOW IT FEELS TO FIND YOURSELF is a collection of paint palettes and short essays. Together, they work harmoniously in offering guidance for navigating the most important relationship in our lives: the one we have with ourselves. The book is full of thoughtful reflections on parenthood, friendship, love (for others and ourselves), family dynamics, and the larger questions we carry about finding our place in the world. Each essay is accompanied by a vibrant paint palette designed to help you find your way through the moment you’re in. 

If you enjoy reading this newsletter, this book is for you.

Pre-order HOW IT FEELS TO FIND YOURSELF

A spread from How it Feels to Find Yourself

Book promotion is not exciting for me. If I’m being honest, it fills me with a sense of existential dread. I don’t like asking people to buy things from me, and I don’t like to be pushy. Like most creatives, my heart and purpose lies in creating the work, not talking about it. The reality is that I support myself and my family with my work.

Pre-orders are vital to the success of any book. All publishers rely on pre-orders (and sales, in general) to see whether the books we write resonate with people and whether they should continue supporting us in creating them. Strong pre-orders for this book indicate strong interest. Strong interest encourages my publisher to buy my next book. 

More than that, pre-orders signal to my publisher—and the larger world of book publishing—that the work I’m making is important. That talking about emotions, vulnerability, and the complexity of the human condition is important. That raising our children with greater introspection and awareness is important. That creating books of value, with the intent of widening a reader’s mind and heart, is more important than a book designed to simply look good on Instagram.

Pre-order HOW IT FEELS TO FIND YOURSELF

So, how can you support me and this work?

• Pre-order a copy (or like, five) of How it Feels to Find Yourself

• Forward this newsletter to someone who will appreciate this book!

• Ask your local library to carry the book if you can’t afford to purchase it—knowing that your entire neighborhood will now have access to it!

• Ask your local bookstore to carry the book. I love local bookstores and want to support them as much as possible throughout this launch. 

• If you want to review or write about How it Feels to Find Yourself (or know someone who might), feature it in your publication/podcast/etc., or interview me — just reply to this email to reach me. Every little bit helps.

Pre-order HOW IT FEELS TO FIND YOURSELF

THANK YOU for reading and for all of your support and encouragement. It means the world to me. 

See you next week with a new edition of Dear Somebody! 

xx,

M

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To sign up for my weekly newsletter, Dear Somebody, please subscribe here.