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In Books, Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking, Writing

Goodbye 2024

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

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?

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, University, Writing

Empty Nest

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

In January, Jason and I will have an empty nest when our youngest child, William, heads off to university in Victoria. We are not the first family to go through this phenomenon, and we won’t be the last, but it feels like a big change and I’m trying to make space to process it.

I’ve been struggling this fall with how to parent grown-up children. It requires a loosening of the strings that have held us tightly together as a family unit. But I don’t know how to navigate this stage.

Ava came home earlier this month for a few days during fall break. I did some Christmas baking and bought some festive holiday candy and treats like I always have. I planned an outing to a favourite Belgian waffle cafe to celebrate all of us being together. But somehow it felt different this time around.

The KitKat house I gave the kids sat unopened on the table. Every other year, Ava and William unwrapped this gift and then built it together, while Christmas music played. But this Christmas season, I put the kit away in the closet and I realised that both kids have other things going on now. This childhood tradition was just that: from their childhood, and now we were in a new stage.

I found this disorienting and lonely. I felt silly for trying to keep everything as it was, when very shortly both kids will be moved out of the house and be living in dorms with other students. But there are no rules for these big life transitions. We have to figure out how to behave as the changes are unfolding. And I’ve never been particularly skilled at letting go.

I’m experimenting with not texting Ava as much while she’s at school. She’s now in her third year of her theatre degree, and she’s busy, and somehow this year feels different in our relationship compared to last year. It’s strange to nurture my kids from a distance. To love them and miss them, but actively work at letting them know that it’s healthy for them to grow away from me.

Jason seems way better at this than I am. Maybe this is because his role as a dad was always a little more emotionally distanced than mine was as the mom. So now I’m trying to learn from him. I know it’s time to step back, and to focus more on my own career and what I might need now that the day-to-day hands-on parenting stage is over.

Some days this feels like freedom, and other days it feels like a loss. Like something really good and precious is over and can never be retrieved.

To fill the void, we decided to fill our empty nest with another kitten. Meet Pippin, who joined us earlier this month, at just 8 weeks of age. He’s cuddly and adorable, and he fills me with joy.

In Books, Nurture, Personal Growth, Speaking, Writing

Trying and Failing

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I released Post Civ into the world this month. I’m incredibly proud of this novel, as it’s the book of my heart, the one I longed to write but would’ve been too afraid to attempt before this point in my life.

It’s the second book I indie-published under my new company imprint Ruby Finch Books. I took everything I learned from publishing my YA novel, Jamesy Harper’s Big Break, and applied it to Post Civ, which made the whole process seem easier and smoother the second time around.

Except for the launch events. With Jamesy Harper, I created a discussion around identity and the big dreams many of us have for our lives when we are young, as these themes are in the novel. I had a presentation ready, and I felt both nervous and excited to try it at libraries and schools.

But no one came. My writing and wellness classes at libraries were well attended, but I had no one show up for any of the discussion events for the book. I wasn’t exactly sure why these hour-long discussions didn’t draw any readers, but after the launch events last fall I put it out of my mind and started to focus on the long process of publishing Post Civ.

When I began planning for Post Civ’s launch, I remembered that no one came to the Jamesy discussions. I even looked back at my end of the year review that I did for Ruby Finch Books, where I wrote, “I tried to build a discussion event for Jamesy Harper, to appeal to readers who might not be interested in attending my writing classes, but it didn’t seem to work for some reason.”

My intuition was telling me that I should focus on what was working well and choose not to pursue more reader events. But I ignored this for Post Civ, thinking that the themes of climate and equity in this adult novel might draw more people who would be interested in discussing these topics together.

So I created a no-tech discussion, to mimic the way the characters in the post-apocalyptic book sit around the campfire and talk together. I told libraries about the discussion and booked a few of them.

You might be able to guess where this is going. No one came (except my lovely friend and editor which was kind of her, and we had a catch-up visit during the hour allotted for the Post Civ discussion).

I wasn’t particularly bothered by how these discussions failed. Most authors, at one point or another in their career, struggle to draw a crowd. I’ve never been interested in book readings or signings, which is why I thought I’d try something more inclusive, where the themes in the book are only a springboard for discussion about key issues that might interest a lot of people.

I try not to take this personally. In life, we try a lot of different things, and many of those things will fail. What bothers me is that I didn’t listen to my own intuition. But I’m working on speaking more gently to myself, as part of offering nurture and care to me instead of just to other people. The key is to hold loosely and not to expect too much, of myself or of others.

I have a few more of these events scheduled in November. Maybe they will work, and maybe they won’t. I figure I’ll show up, and whatever happens was meant to happen. I’ll listen closer to my intuition when I’m planning for future books and releases and events. Things will continue to change. And trying and failing is all part of succeeding.

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking, Travel, Writing

Recalibrating Identity

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I just returned from a trip to Kelowna, BC where I was speaking at a teachers’ conference. In previous years, Jason has come with me on this work trip, but this year I decided to go alone. I listened to music, and some episodes of the Smartless podcast, but realised partway through the 5 hour drive that being alone in the car helped me to recalibrate a sense of my own personal identity.

As women, and mothers, so often our identity becomes intertwined with the identities of those we love and nurture. It can become challenging to separate out our individual needs and desires, because we exist in a context of our other relationships (and identities).

While driving to Kelowna, I found myself weeping for no apparent reason. I decided to let the storm of feeling pass through me, so I cried on and off while I drove. This continued even after I checked into my hotel room and ordered myself dinner.

As the evening progressed, I started to realise what was causing this storm of tears. I pulled out my journal and began to write. I worked through some things that had been building up during the summer. Questions about this new stage of life we’re about to enter as parents and as a family when William leaves for university in January.

I’m certain these feelings would’ve made themselves known whether I was at home or in Kelowna, but there’s something powerful about prioritising our own solitude from time to time. Over the two nights I was away, by myself, I could feel my identity recalibrating back into something I could recognise as my own.

Earlier this summer, we did a family driving trip down the coast to Los Angeles, one of my favourite places on planet earth. We had days of sun and soft sand and salty ocean air and palm trees and In-N-Out milkshakes. It was glorious. But it was a family trip, which meant all of our decisions were made together, with everyone’s needs and interests considered.

In the middle of August, I had a work trip to Alberta to speak at a writers’ conference and teach classes at a number of different libraries. For that trip, it was just Jason and I, which meant I left my Mom identity behind but remained in my Marriage identity. We had a wonderful trip, and I’m glad we went together, but I needed the alone time in Kelowna to understand the difference between solo trips and together trips.

When we give a lot of ourselves to others, it’s important to take time out for ourselves. I’ve been teaching this over the last six months in the form of nurture classes for writers and Nurture Starts with You sessions for teachers. But sometimes I fail to give it enough attention for myself.

It felt strange to say to Jason that I wanted to go to Kelowna on my own this time. He had loads of work to do and was happy to stay at home to look after Ted since William happened to be visiting his sister and some friends on the island when I was gone. But during my trip I realised how much it mattered that I listened to my own intuition. I gave myself time to feel things and a little bit of space and distance to better understand some relationship dynamics that were challenging to see up close.

This solo trip restored me to myself. It gave me time to reflect, and to cry, and to plan for the coming months. It helped me recalibrate my own sense of who I am.

How about you? As we say goodbye to summer and approach the brand new fall season, what steps could you take to recalibrate your own identity?

In Identity, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, University, Writing

Hello Fall

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

Last week I wrote in my Ruby Finch Books newsletter about how much I love fall, but I realised there was more to say, so I thought I’d do an update here.

Every single year, as the calendar changes from the loosy-goosy days of summer to the more structured routine of September, I feel a lift in my spirits. I know there are some people who feel joy when the temperature rises, but I’m a fall girl through and through.

The fuzzy pajamas and thick warm socks. Boots with jeans and long-sleeved shirts again. A light jacket with a pocket to hold my car keys. Using the oven to cook dinner without thinking about how hot the house will get. Survivor and The Amazing Race on Wednesday nights. School starting up, which means a quiet house, where most days I’m the only one in it besides our two cats.

William is starting grade 12, which signals the beginning of the end of children at home. It feels strange – both sad and freeing in equal measure. For the last fifteen years, we’ve done a back-to-school routine like many parents before us involving fresh school supplies, first-day outfits, new shoes, lunch kits, and posed photographs in the same spot every year, with tears from William and wide grins from Ava.

But now we are at the end of this predictable series of post-Labour-day events. Ava left home in mid-August for her two weeks of Community Leader training at UVic, where she’s starting her second year in the theatre program, and William is beginning his final year of high school. When he graduates, we will have two adult children, and be on the edge of an empty nest.

My friend Susan posted about this phenomenon on Facebook, saying that there’s so much support for new parents, and so little for those at the end of the journey. And of course it’s not the END, in any final sense, as our grown kids will continue to need us for years to come. But this transition – from parents of kids who live at home and are considered minors under the age of eighteen, to having them be grown-up adults – is a big one.

I felt melancholy about it for a few days at the end of August, but once school actually began last week, the sadness evaporated and became something suspiciously close to contentment. It feels like I’m nearing the finish line on a job I’ve done well, with a lot of highs and lows in equal measure, but I showed up and I gave what I could and now I can glimpse a future that involves Jason and me without two kids at the centre of our marriage and family life.

Around two years ago this thought scared me shitless. Some of those fears are what I’m exploring in the new book I’m writing on The Negative Space – all the things we didn’t get or cannot see that make what we do possess have meaning and value. It’s pleasant to consider coming to the end of the day-to-day responsibilities and stresses of parenthood, while recognising that this transition, like every change in life, costs us something. We give up something, and receive something different in return.

This is also the first September in 6 years that I haven’t been a university student. Like the parenting changes on the horizon, being free of student deadlines and homework and classes is both unmooring and exciting in equal measure. I’ve started a publishing imprint and I’m busy building a company, offering online writing classes, launching a YA book next month, planning the publishing of my thesis novel in 2024, and writing a new memoir. It’s exhilarating to be doing work that isn’t designed to impress professors or agents or editors, but is something I can do simply because I believe in it myself. Having this be enough is like pure oxygen. It’s invigorating and restoring.

Well, I planned to write about our 3.5 week Europe trip this summer and what I discovered about myself, but this fall post became something else. And I love that. I’ll write again about the trip, because I’m still working through how I feel and what changed for me while travelling abroad, but for now I’m leaning into my Ruby Finch Books motto – intuitive courage – and trusting that where my intuition leads is worth following.

How are you feeling this fall? Any big changes on the horizon?