Release

Most years, I tend to ease into the three words I choose to focus on. But this year, the word release has packed a real punch from the word go.

When Jason and I were in Baja, Mexico in late January, on one of the most fabulous trips I’ve ever taken because it was so chill and relaxing with just the two of us, I floated in the pool one hot afternoon and asked myself what I wanted to release. The phrase “trade fear for courage” dropped into my mind. I loved it. I decided to adopt it.

When we got home, I had trouble falling asleep one night. My conscience was whispering about lining up my values with my actions. I didn’t know what this meant at first, but when I tried to quiet down my busy mind I realised that Substack was not a social media platform I wanted to be associated with due to the increased press about the money they earn from far-right white supremacy fascist newsletters hosted on their site.

I started my Ruby Finch Books newsletter there in June 2023, followed a year later by my monthly podcast Intuitive Courage. After two-plus years, my subscriber numbers were small, but I had enjoyed the process of slowly growing those readers, listeners, and supporters. I thought about transferring my newsletter and podcast to a platform that didn’t feel so morally compromised, but then I remembered my word release.

A better question for me to ask was, “Do I need this?” At first, the answer felt like it had to be yes. I started the newsletter to let people know what Ruby Finch Books was up to, and then to try podcasting after several readers and teachers suggested I should have one. But after trading my fear for courage and deleting Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp, Spotify, Goodreads, and unpublishing my books for sale on Amazon, I realised just how amazing it feels to cut ties with products that don’t align with my values.

Projects begin and then end. We learn what we can while doing new things, and we meet interesting people along the way. And then we release them when they no longer serve us or we re-evaluate our focus. Perhaps that’s what this word release has really been for me: a re-alignment of who I am and where I’m going (and what I utilise to communicate these things to others).

I wrote a goodbye post on Substack and sent it to my subscribers, and then I deleted everything over there. It felt like the right thing to do. I ported my email subscribers over to my Ruby Finch Books site, where I started a page called Updates. I won’t post on a schedule, but if I have something important to communicate I can use that space. If you are interested, please subscribe there with your email.

So now I’m down to two websites: Ruby Finch Books and my author site here at julianneharvey.com. I have been posting here once a month for years now, but I’m going to stop writing to a schedule and post when I feel like I have something I want to say. I’d love it if you are willing to subscribe here with your email so you don’t miss out on any posts, as my only remaining social media is a Bluesky account.

I’m committing to rebuilding the analog world, by spending way less time on the digital version. I refuse to support evil far-right tech bro oligarchs who systematically destroyed what was initially fun about the internet to sell ads, create disinformation, and cram genAI trash down our throats in an effort to make us less intelligent and empathetic. That’s not a path I choose to walk down any longer.

The best part about releasing things is making room for something new to grow in their place. After release, my next word for 2026 is imagine, and I’ve already spent some time imagining Ruby Finch Pictures into being. I’m committed to finishing the screenplay for Jamesy Harper’s Big Break, working a little on that every day, along with completing my murder mystery novel A Body at the Fair. I’m writing a political journal, responding to the daily nightmare onslaught of the current news cycle. And I’m doing two new things that scare me this year: training as a hospice volunteer, and working out three times a week at fitness classes with other women in my neighbourhood.

It all starts with releasing the things that have run their course. Thank you, for reading this and for being here as a support for me in my writing and publishing journey. Each email subscriber or kind comment about my writing or speaking or teaching or nurturing means so much to me. It makes me feel less alone in this overwhelming and loud world we’re living in. Community care reminds me why it matters that we are alive right now, that we are messy humans having a messy human experience, and why nurture is important. Thank you for your care and kindness.

What are you releasing in these early months of 2026?

A Dormant Season

In my workshops at teachers’ conferences, libraries and for writers, I often speak about building in a dormant season for creativity and rest. A period of time where we are intentional about doing nothing, so we can replenish our spent energies and allow our creative impulses to regenerate.

This sounds wonderful in theory, but I realised recently how difficult I find a dormant season in practice. When I’m writing a new manuscript, I try to maintain a steady rhythm, where I work for a little bit each day so I don’t get too far away from the characters and the story. But sometimes dormancy is forced upon us, due to vacations or the needs of others or health concerns or simply life being life, and interrupting us from our best-laid plans.

This happened to me in August. And I struggled against it. I find it frustrating that even when I’m teaching about certain skills and strategies, like taking a dormant season, I can still be ridiculously slow to recognise it in my own existence. We had a couple of trips planned, and then an unplanned trip to the island late in the month to help our kids move into their first basement suite off campus for the upcoming university year, and by early September I recognised how far away I felt from the novel I was writing.

I wish I could say that I was calm about this. But I wasn’t. I got pissed off, at myself for not progressing on my book when I had planned to write all summer, and then irritated by my family members who kept me from writing. I didn’t enjoy how this resentment made me feel, but I stewed in it for more than a week before suddenly remembering what I tell others: for a dormant season to be effective, we have to surrender to it. To enjoy our lives without feeling guilty that we aren’t working on a creative project.

I had completely missed this part of the process. So I reached for my journal, and reflected on this season of dormancy I’d been in, and why I felt myself longing to get back into the writing of my murder mystery novel. I remembered my Ruby Finch Books tagline: Intuitive Courage. Somewhere along the line, I had once again lost myself and my sense of identity and purpose. I’d been at the mercy of circumstances and other people and life itself without recognising or claiming my own agency.

It felt so good to realise that I can always choose my response. I could be angry about not writing, or I could acknowledge that I had been in a period of creative dormancy, which meant that a new burst of creative energy could bloom in me if I allowed it to. In the four seasons of nature, winter is the dormant season. It’s followed by spring, the explosion of growth and vitality, but we only get the beauty of spring because the trees have been dormant in the winter.

I truly believe that the same seasons are necessary in our own lives. And sure enough, once I stopped having a temper tantrum about my writing rhythms and progress being disrupted for a month, I began to feel the slow, gathering momentum of fresh insight for my book. I would lay in bed at night, ready to drop off to sleep, and my intuition would connect one storyline with another in a way I hadn’t considered before. I would realise something in one of my character’s backstories that informed their current choices and motivations.

Writers live for those moments of insight. I suppose I’ll never know if I would’ve had them anyway, if I’d been writing during August and into early September, but they came to me so insistently and yet gently when I wasn’t writing, so I have to hope the brief dormant season made a difference. Now I’m back into the story, writing nearly every day, and the work has a fresh energy behind it.

I’m working with a new counsellor this month, and one of our goals is to help me identify these patterns in my life faster. I don’t like to feel lost and annoyed for weeks on end when I could simply choose a better response. Believing that a dormant season will help my creativity flourish is a healthier choice to make than stewing in frustration about being unproductive.

What are some ways you’ve seen a dormant season lead to fresh insights and replenished energy in your life?

Awakening to Meaning

For a few months now, I’ve been ruminating on meaning and purpose. I began thinking that I needed to create a deeper sense of meaning in my life, so I brainstormed possible avenues: volunteering for a hospice society, applying for a new part-time job, taking a class, learning a hobby, making new friends.

I did a few of these things, even going so far as to schedule an interview for a remote admin position working twenty hours a week. As the interview drew near, I started to panic about where I would find those additional twenty hours a week with my current schedule. By the time the interview happened, and the therapist I spoke to about the job said, “You don’t want an admin job, you are too overqualified for this and you are already doing such interesting work!” I had essentially come to the same realisation.

It’s funny how meaning functions. If I hadn’t applied for that job, and scheduled the interview a couple of weeks after the application, it might have gone differently. But in the interim, I slowed down enough to notice my day-to-day life, and it was like an old polaroid photo developing in front of my eyes. The meaning was already there, baked into everything, but I wasn’t tuned in to recognise it.

It’s been an extraordinary time, waking up to the meaning and purpose that’s all around me. I thought about friends I already have that I haven’t seen for ages, and I sent a bunch of texts to set up some plans. Being open to making new friends is lovely, and I hope that happens as well, but I have so many friends from decades back that I could be investing time and nurture and care in.

I feel like my nerve endings are awake now. So much of what I think will fulfil me doesn’t live outside of me. It’s within. The job is to get quiet, to slow down and pay attention. As part of this awakening to meaning, I recognised how much I loathe Instagram. I only created an account on there for Ruby Finch Books so I could see what my daughter posted, but that’s not enough of a reason to have an account that only gave me a feeling of stress. So I deleted it.

I started to look at my work with a fresh pair of eyes. I love my company, about to celebrate its second birthday on June 7, 2025, and I love the vision that I had when I formed it. When I checked in on my online book sales recently, I saw that five paperback copies of Post Civ sold in the UK last month. I have no idea how anyone in Britain knows about my climate novel, but I’m thrilled. I got a report saying that the Las Vegas Library bought an ebook of Post Civ for their patrons. For someone who used to receive royalty cheques in the amount of .09 for online book sales, this news made me smile from ear to ear.

My monthly podcast Intuitive Courage is small but growing. People are listening in Canada, the US, Germany, Sweden, Ireland, New Zealand and other countries. I have no idea who they are or why they’ve chosen to listen to me, but it’s an honour and a privilege. There’s meaning baked right into those stats. And it gives me a fresh jolt of purpose every month when I consider what to talk about in the podcast. It helps me boost my own confidence as I work through these ideas in real time in front of a microphone. I feel the same joy when I work with teachers and writers at conferences, libraries, and in my online classes.

The idea here is that meaning is everywhere—in our work, our big dreams, our key relationships, our friendships, our unique connection to our own inner life and intuition. It’s all there. The key is to notice and appreciate it. To reflect on why it offers a sense of purpose to us. I’m practicing feeling happy in my life as it is, right now in this exact moment, instead of longing for some other place and time where I might eventually be happy.

Recently I changed my tagline from Author, Educator, Nurturer to Author, Innovator, Nurturer. I’ve been innovating my whole life, and I’ve decided to own it as part of my identity. My first author bio in 2010 said, “I’m fully awake and happily original.” It’s taken me a little while to live completely into those words, but I’m doing it now, and it’s so satisfying to awaken to the meaning that’s all around me.

3 Words for 2025

Last month, I wrote a post reflecting on 2024, and as I usually do every January, now I’m sharing the three words I’ve chosen to focus on in 2025. I know a lot of people choose one word, but I find that too narrow. Maybe I’m just a slow learner, but I like to see how my three chosen words work together over the course of the year to change me.

For this year, I picked these 3 words: Deeper. Simpler. Quieter.

I’ve decided that 2025 is a year to turn inward. To create, to dream, to plan for the future. I’m working on stillness right now, and building in more space for myself. I can feel myself longing for deeper roots, both within myself and in my relationships and my career.

I love the agricultural concept of allowing the soil to lie fallow in order to regenerate. When I got quiet at the end of 2024 to imagine what my next year would look like, I realised I wanted a period of quiet and simple depth. I longed for a year where I focused more on writing than on publishing.

I returned to university in 2017 as a mature student, and after I finished my BA in Creative Writing I continued on for a master’s degree, graduating in spring 2023. I started my publishing company Ruby Finch Books immediately after this, learning the indie publishing world so I could release two novels (Jamesy Harper’s Big Break in 2023 and Post Civ in 2024). At the same time, both of my kids were finishing high school and moving out of our house and into university, which required me to practice my skills in letting go (and in general, I prefer to hang on rather than let go).

For 2025, I want to slow down and catch my breath. I’ve also decided to live into my longest-held dream of adapting my books into screenplays and TV scripts to try to get them made. I wrote about this in my January Substack newsletter, and I’m calling this adventure Ruby Finch Pictures even though I don’t know exactly what form this will take yet.

It’s important to keep our dreams alive. I didn’t know how to indie publish a novel before I learned that process, and now I’ve done it twice and I’m thrilled to have these books out in the world and available through many libraries. This work will continue, and it’s good work. But I also want to form a production company and see my stories come to life on the screen. This dream is going to take some time, but it’s worth pursuing.

I’m loving settling into this year, our first one as empty-nesters, and prioritising quiet, simplicity, and depth. I’m working on my first murder mystery novel, A Body at the Fair, and I’m adapting two of my books for the screen. I’m teaching writing and nurture, both online and in person at conferences and through libraries, and Jason and I are creating a new routine and existence that’s just for us as a married couple and not for us as a family of four.

This year feels like a completely fresh start already, and we’re only a month into it. How about you? What words are you hoping to live into this year?

Goodbye 2024

I like to take some time every December to reflect on the year that’s ending, before I look ahead to the new one about to begin. I know there’s nothing particularly unique about this practice, and turning over a calendar page doesn’t really change anything, but a new year still serves as an invitation to set new goals and dream fresh dreams.

Since I began Ruby Finch Books in June 2023, I’ve been relying more on my intuition. And our intuition flourishes in the quiet. It needs us to mute the many other noises and distractions of our world in order to get cozy enough to hear it whisper.

Our intuition is the way our soul can speak to us. And at the end of this year, I’m loving the time and space I’m taking to ask my soul what it’s longing for. I still feel amazed when I hear my soul speaking to me. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that I’m amazed I’ve finally quieted down enough to listen to what it has to say.

My three words for 2024 were savour, intentional, and receive. All three of them worked on me at various points of the year. I noticed that I really improved at awareness of the present moment I was in. I tried to experience life through my senses more: to awaken my five senses and invite more wonder at being alive. Not in every single moment, because that’s not possible (and some moments are crummy). But in general, I attempted to notice my food as I was eating, my relationships as I was talking and laughing with people I love, and my life as it was unfolding moment by moment and day by day.

Part of this involved savouring, and some of it was setting my intention. Receiving was by far the hardest thing for me to learn. I wrote about it in July. But now, in December, I can see how far I’ve come with this concept. I don’t struggle so hard over my own worthiness. I can feel the love and care and nurture offered to me by others, and it’s so beautiful and inspiring that it can bring me to tears.

This month, we are preparing for our upcoming empty nest when both kids are off to university in January. I’ve gone through lots of different stages with my feelings about this big transition, but now that it’s imminent, I’m feeling mostly at peace. Having a sweet new kitten to spoil is helping. And so is taking the time to imagine a whole new life for just Jason and I at home once again.

I really did love this first full year of running my new company Ruby Finch Books. I published Post Civ, which is the book I’ve longed to write for my entire life, and got it out into the world this fall. It was so exciting to see wait lists for the book at my local library. And to talk to readers who loved it as much as I do. I look forward to more of these discussions next year.

I worked with a lot of libraries in 2024 and can’t wait for more of the same in 2025. Librarians and patrons are truly the best people. And I presented workshops on nurture and wellness to hundreds of teachers at conferences in BC and Alberta, and worked with a lot of writers in my online classes and through Alexandra Writers for the Writing Well series (plus I presented at a big writing conference in Calgary this summer). It’s such an honour to teach. I’ve been so inspired by the people I’ve met through my classes.

I’m excited about my three words for 2025, which I’ll write about here in January. I want to thank each and every one of you for reading my words this year. You mean a lot to me. If anything I write about resonates with you, please drop me a line and tell me. It’s lovely to feel connected to real-live people reading what I’m writing here. And if you haven’t had a chance to subscribe to my free monthly Substack newsletter and podcast, I invite you to join me over there as my company continues to grow.

Goodbye 2024. Thank you for what you taught me. What is your soul saying to you as we close out this year and prepare to move into a brand new calendar year?