“I’m going to be self-publishing a series of really fun books…”
Oh, I cannot tell you how happy this makes me. I’ve wanted you to do this since your first publishing experience. It’s going to unleash a side of you that will change everything!!! Lawd, grab hold of something, world! Ash is on the loose!
Confession time... I always religiously read every word you can tap on your keyboard. But this one?! Holy foxglove.. it's amazing. Probably because I feel a lot less like a scatterbrained squirrel for launching my own publishing company for a new genre I want to coin, writing my first draft of a novel, while still creating embroidery patterns to compost self help, and considering to design a capsule wardrobe because I'm sick of what exists around me.
if you need help with French, my Mom taught french as second/third language to 17000+ students, she'd be happy to chat with you and answer your questions on learning French.
I’ve always resonated with Ash's writing. Most days, it’s the humor and oddly specific metaphors that get me. But this time? This time I felt seen.
Especially this line:
"If you can’t trust yourself, what do you have? A limp-spined, paralyzed, pathetic mockery of a life. It’d be like having to ask your husband what he thinks about everything, because you have no idea. Imagine, just sitting there like a sad, quiet, withdrawn, washed-up, deflated cartoon version of yourself, wishing you had something to care about."
How did you know I did that? Have you been spying on me these last few years?
You could’ve slapped my name on that and called it a character sketch.
I’ve spent the last 10 years bouncing between creative ideas like a manic ping-pong ball. Some burned out in the planning phase. Others never even made it past the “read 87 blog posts and 14 books about it first” stage. A few got decent traction. My YouTube channel hit 8k subs. But even then, I couldn’t follow through.
Because honestly? I didn’t believe I could.
Turns out, getting some success scared me more than getting none. Deep down, I was waiting to screw it all up. I had no faith in my ability to be consistent, no matter how much I wanted it. So I flaked on myself. A lot. And my brain, that little bastard, took notes.
The grief didn’t help. I lost my best friend. My mentor. Too many others. I’m one of the few who made it out of the opioid years alive, and for a long time, that felt like pressure. Like I had to earn the right to be here. I thought success would be proof that I deserved my second chance.
But survival isn’t something you earn. It’s luck. I’m usually not a lucky person, so I figured all my life-luck got used up on that second chance. And now I’m doing everything I can not to waste it.
Over the last decade, I became a master of how not to trust myself. I learned how to shame myself into inaction. How to get so caught up in planning that I never moved. How to confuse productivity with self-worth.
But I also learned how to begin again.
How to shift out of survival mode and into something resembling joy. How to create again. How to fail forward. How to live in the gray. How to make a decision, take action, and fix it later. How to ask for help, even from my husband, without feeling like I’m broken or lost. How to show up without worrying when I’ll fall off again.
And yeah. I finally learned how to follow through.
It’s still wobbly. It’s not always pretty. But it’s mine. And I’m not flaking on myself anymore.
I used to look back on the last 10 years and see a lot of time wasted. A lot of starts with no finishes. I mentioned this to my husband the other day. He looked at me like I had ten heads. He saw it differently. I was always working on something. I kept going. Kept trying. Kept dreaming.
Where I saw a graveyard of unrelated half-started projects, he saw the evolution of a voice. A thread of becoming. One that eventually led me to what I’m doing now. Writing my local newsletter like it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.
The truth is, I didn’t finally find the project that “worked.”
I worked on my project through all its many forms until it became something I’m wildly passionate about.
Throwing in ASL as another language to learn!
HECK YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Honestly we would probably talk for years, you and I.
I would love if you went into the behind-the-scenes for how you create your wallpaper line - I'm interested in doing a similar thing!
That would be so fun! Don't put it past me - it's weirdly hard finding info on how to do it!
You’re going to be great at whatever you do! Can’t wait to see the irreverent home goods!!! 😍
You are such a joy, Elle! Thank you for always being in my corner!!!!!
👏🏻
“Friggity fucklesticks" - I may never stop saying this one Ash - Ha! Ha!
Why haven't we been saying "fuckle" this whole time?!?!?!?!?!?!
Right? What an excellent addition to the lexicon. Well done Ash!!
“I’m going to be self-publishing a series of really fun books…”
Oh, I cannot tell you how happy this makes me. I’ve wanted you to do this since your first publishing experience. It’s going to unleash a side of you that will change everything!!! Lawd, grab hold of something, world! Ash is on the loose!
“You can recover from almost anything...
But not a life you never really showed up for.”
Brilliant! 🙌🏻
Confession time... I always religiously read every word you can tap on your keyboard. But this one?! Holy foxglove.. it's amazing. Probably because I feel a lot less like a scatterbrained squirrel for launching my own publishing company for a new genre I want to coin, writing my first draft of a novel, while still creating embroidery patterns to compost self help, and considering to design a capsule wardrobe because I'm sick of what exists around me.
if you need help with French, my Mom taught french as second/third language to 17000+ students, she'd be happy to chat with you and answer your questions on learning French.
I’ve always resonated with Ash's writing. Most days, it’s the humor and oddly specific metaphors that get me. But this time? This time I felt seen.
Especially this line:
"If you can’t trust yourself, what do you have? A limp-spined, paralyzed, pathetic mockery of a life. It’d be like having to ask your husband what he thinks about everything, because you have no idea. Imagine, just sitting there like a sad, quiet, withdrawn, washed-up, deflated cartoon version of yourself, wishing you had something to care about."
How did you know I did that? Have you been spying on me these last few years?
You could’ve slapped my name on that and called it a character sketch.
I’ve spent the last 10 years bouncing between creative ideas like a manic ping-pong ball. Some burned out in the planning phase. Others never even made it past the “read 87 blog posts and 14 books about it first” stage. A few got decent traction. My YouTube channel hit 8k subs. But even then, I couldn’t follow through.
Because honestly? I didn’t believe I could.
Turns out, getting some success scared me more than getting none. Deep down, I was waiting to screw it all up. I had no faith in my ability to be consistent, no matter how much I wanted it. So I flaked on myself. A lot. And my brain, that little bastard, took notes.
The grief didn’t help. I lost my best friend. My mentor. Too many others. I’m one of the few who made it out of the opioid years alive, and for a long time, that felt like pressure. Like I had to earn the right to be here. I thought success would be proof that I deserved my second chance.
But survival isn’t something you earn. It’s luck. I’m usually not a lucky person, so I figured all my life-luck got used up on that second chance. And now I’m doing everything I can not to waste it.
Over the last decade, I became a master of how not to trust myself. I learned how to shame myself into inaction. How to get so caught up in planning that I never moved. How to confuse productivity with self-worth.
But I also learned how to begin again.
How to shift out of survival mode and into something resembling joy. How to create again. How to fail forward. How to live in the gray. How to make a decision, take action, and fix it later. How to ask for help, even from my husband, without feeling like I’m broken or lost. How to show up without worrying when I’ll fall off again.
And yeah. I finally learned how to follow through.
It’s still wobbly. It’s not always pretty. But it’s mine. And I’m not flaking on myself anymore.
I used to look back on the last 10 years and see a lot of time wasted. A lot of starts with no finishes. I mentioned this to my husband the other day. He looked at me like I had ten heads. He saw it differently. I was always working on something. I kept going. Kept trying. Kept dreaming.
Where I saw a graveyard of unrelated half-started projects, he saw the evolution of a voice. A thread of becoming. One that eventually led me to what I’m doing now. Writing my local newsletter like it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.
The truth is, I didn’t finally find the project that “worked.”
I worked on my project through all its many forms until it became something I’m wildly passionate about.
And because of that?
It’s finally sustainable.
Thanks for helping me see that.
–Megan
Yes!! Proud of you, Ash, and can’t wait to see all this cool new stuff!! Thanks as always for the exact pick-me-up I needed.
HI, SHELLEYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Heyyyy you!! 🥰