FFs #34: Following a New Trail of Crumbs
Celebrating one year on Substack + A long-awaited project begins
In This Issue
It’s My First Substack Anniversary!
I have this M.O.
Actually, I have several of them. But the one I’m thinking of now is my penchant for being the hare instead of the tortoise. 🐰
Witness my pace of earning an MBA at night school while I held down a day job. For the first four semesters, I took two or three classes. It killed my first marriage. (But then, it would've died anyhow, eventually.😒)
In response to the marriage issue, I stopped taking classes—for two years. Once I got my life back on track, I went back to school. And again, I signed up for two classes per semester. (Although this time, I simultaneously cut back my work hours.)
I finished my degree the exact same semester as my friend Zita. I had met her the very first night of the first class. She had been played tortoise to my hare, taking one class every semester for five years.
This pattern pretty much describes my past approach to blogging—run fast, work hard, post a lot of stuff, and then fizzle out when no one shows up. Until now.
This past year, everything changed.
I finally figured out the right niche. Writing is fun now!
I’m in the groove. Ideas are constantly bubbling up, ready to be explored.
Synchronicities are firing off with the randomness of a Roman candle. Life is exciting!
I never know when some random article I’m reading will lead to a whole new epiphany, a whole new article, a whole new series.
Substack is sending me readers. Not a ridiculous number, but enough to put some (metaphorical) gas in my tank. And it’s been eye-opening to see who has shown up.
I haven’t gotten a ton of feedback (only one article got six comments), but what I’ve gotten has been very encouraging.
Most of all, I have found clarity—in my message, my medium, and my audience.
In the past, I was afraid to commit to publishing every week. Afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep up. That I’d burn out. But I’ve done it! I’ve published every week for an entire year. Twice a week, counting Fractal Fridays. And I plan to continue.
I’ve finally given up my hare M.O.—at least as far as writing is concerned—despite the fact that my subscriber count has been teasing me by dancing up and down in the high 90s for something like 10 weeks. I’m not stressed about it. Plateau-shmateau.
I give God the credit. I’m writing because the Lord asked me to—and gave me a message and a niche. I’m just going with it. I’ll just keep writing, as long as my brain keeps working. (At the age of 70, that’s not a throwaway comment.)
Anyhow, thanks for being here. Your support means everything. 😊
Phoenix Your Faith is Going on Hiatus
Another thing that’s happened this year is that I’ve committed to a publishing strategy. I plan to continue writing posts in short series that can be published as mini-books. And then those mini-books themselves will be part of a book series. (Credit goes to
and for leading the way.)What I’ve written so far in the Phoenix Your Faith series is enough for the first mini-book. Maybe I’ll title it Volume One: Taking Your Bearings. Anyhow, this seemed like a good point to pivot to something else for awhile. You know, to mix things up a bit for your enjoyment and for mine.
I’ve been thinking for a long time (like years) about writing a series of articles on life lessons I’ve learned from family members and mentors no longer with us. In fact, I’ve already written a number of these stories. And I used the idea for this series as a real-life example for my recently published book, The Spiritual Life Writing Workbook.
So that’s what I’m going to be publishing here for the next few months.
I didn’t want to title the series (or the eventual mini-book) “Life Lessons.” That feels overused to me. So I had myself a little session with DeepSeek-R1 and we came up with a title I like:
The Wisdom in Our Breadcrumbs: Family Recipes, Guiding Hands, and a Trail Lit Mostly with Love
Let me know what you think about the name.
Excerpt: The Terrible Cost of Not Forgiving a Family Member
Sitting in the living room, out of view, I could hear my mom in the kitchen, on the plain beige rotary-dial wall phone. I heard the sobs and blubbery words, her voice vacillating between extreme distress and anger. I could sense her body trembling with every response. I couldn’t make out the speaker’s words, but it was Grandpa’s voice.
I can’t remember the exact disagreement. But it had something to do with Mom’s brother, Uncle Walt, who was living with us at the time.
I’m guessing she was asking her dad to let Uncle Walt stay at his place (which was about the same size as ours). Having Uncle Walt in our small 2-bedroom house all the time, unemployed and not really helping out with anything, was taking on toll on my parent’s marriage.
I’m guessing Grandpa was telling her why that wouldn’t work, even though his house was about the same size as ours. Actually, in terms of square footage, his was a little larger. I’m guessing he was chastising her for not being a supportive sister.
Regardless, after that horrible phone conversation, Grandpa resolved not to talk to Mom anymore. I guess he thought he was punishing her for being a bad daughter.
But he was punishing the entire family…
[Click below to read the rest.]
We all have some of these breadcrumb stories flittering around in our heads. If you have one you’d like to share, I’d be happy to publish it as a guest post.
Looking forward to reading your tales!
If you know someone who needs to hear what I have to say, please share or restack.
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Can't wait to see that book series go live!
Thanks! I see your point.