When I started this newsletter a year ago, I had no expectation other than a reason to sit down weekly and write. I would spam the inboxes of a few nice friends and the handful of poor saps imported from a nearly dead email list. But, slowly, something happened. People started reading and responding.
I posted almost every week and, though they haven’t all been good, they exist. I did SOMETHING and that’s no small thing.
Subscriber numbers have been steadily on the rise,
has been recommended by some brilliant people and, though this newsletter is always free, there have been some generous pledges. And, thanks to , I even have a blurb!It’s been a thrill to watch you all join me, and your comments and emails have kept me in the game. Writing this newsletter has given me the space to find my voice and those it may speak to. Thank you all for joining me in this conversation about midlife fuckery. We need all the help we can get. Newsletters may save us. (Side note: HELP. I’m drowning in newsletters.)
A brief shout to
- this platform has changed my writing life and helped me find an audience. It’s easy, fun, and friendly here and I would encourage anyone who wants to write to give it a try.For my one year Substackaversary, I offer some old, barely seen posts.
This was the first post, about finding time for anything in the generation sandwich:
A cranky rant about menopause:
This one is about boobs:
About a marriage:
That time I got mad at a journalist for her bad take on menopause:
In which Kelly Corrigan lets me off the hook:
Seeking midlife style:
Memories of youth and summer:
There’s more in the archive and I hope to keep going. Thanks so much for letting me into your crowded inboxes. Who knows what happens here in year two? Perhaps I’ll try collaborative letters. Or maybe we’ll chat. I’m going to make a cake and think about it.
Cheers!
Lisa