Substack on the Other Side: Where the Sidewalk Begins
A hat tip to readers all along the way
It is early morning. With no one here but me, I am not alone. I know you are out there, but I would really appreciate being able to reach out to my small band of readers and speak to your invisible faces, directly. So let’s imagine that you are across the table with coffee.
I’d tell you that your presence has been a constant and a comfort during a chaotic and complicated period in my life.
Thank you for being there, with as much interaction and persistence as works for you. Even regarding the subscribers whose emails I don't recognize, I'm glad we have this thin thread of connection and hope we can sustain this rather frail digital bond into our future lives.
I wish all of you here at the table—my always or sometimes fellow travelers— could flourish into a community like the one I and the blogosphere-of-the-day experienced two decades ago. Give me a moment to be nostalgic.
It was real community. And that is part of what I want to work towards in the future of this writing space.
Interaction and conversation with readers—more than number of readers— has been the metric of "success" all the while, over two decades of publicly-visible writing. But I would be happy to have a richer, deeper readership.
More readers and greater engagement is possible with Substack’s features for audience and community building. I confess I have been holding off even looking at all that until I can focus and persevere. That day is coming!
I anticipate a fresh perspective on the world (of nature, of place and community) once in Missouri. That will be a continuation of the “travel writing” of the hyperlocal—just from a different locality. It will all be new and fresh! Writing flows when novelty abounds.
NEW HORIZONS
After a half dozen months of the attention-sucking busy-ness of moving, I wanted you to know that I have future writing goals beyond publishing weekly posts. I hope you'll still be on board if those larger goals bear fruit.
One project some of you might approve is consolidating the posts here, going back to last fall when I began to experience the Dope Slap AHA!
I suddenly realized our beloved place in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia wouldn’t meet our housing and health needs beyond our current 76th year.
I realized that if you wait until you NEED an elder health and housing plan for your final years, you're already too late. A number of readers have found this narrative of Boomer Aging to be an inconvenient truth and heard the call to action.
WHERE THE NEW SIDEWALK BEGINS 🚶♂️
Finally, I want to get to know other writers (and also photographers and birdwatchers and musicians) in Columbia.
I joined the Columbia Chapter of the Missouri Writers Guild, anticipating that this local group’s support and encouragement will guide me back into sustained and purposeful writing after the largely barren post-covid years.
So with all that, thank you, Substack readers, for being along for the journey. You good people send up a smoke signal from time to time to let me know you're out there. Find kindred spirits and bring them along. I covet the company.
And to my amazing readers who have invested in a paid subscription, your validation and support has freed me from my ultra-frugality to invest in writing and organizational tools and services that make writing more productive, informed, and enjoyable for my Muse, who only grudgingly and infrequently comes around to taunt me, as I sit so long before the empty page.
Let's agree right now to meet on the other side. I'll be waiting for you.
It is heart-wrenching to pick up and move across the country to almost everything new. I am glad you have joined a writers' group, and look forward to reading your new experiences. Best wishes to you and Ann on your adventure.
I have appreciated your writing through the years and look forward to following you as you move to Missouri. I hope Missouri has good cloud formations as we enjoy in the New River Valley.
from AI:
Beneath the azure sky, I gaze in awe,
At clouds that drift and dance with gentle grace.
Their shapes transform, a fleeting, silent draw,
A canvas painted in the vast, blue space.
Soft whispers of the wind, they twist and turn,
From dragons fierce to castles in the air.
In every form, new wonders I discern,
A fleeting art that’s delicate and rare.
The sun’s embrace, it casts a golden hue,
On billowed peaks and valleys far below.
In quiet moments, peace and joy renew,
As clouds parade in nature’s gentle show.
In watching clouds, my spirit finds its rest,
A simple joy that fills my heart with zest.