Henry’s Cabin

My writing journey thus far is like the plot of If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. I wanted to tell a story. The best way to share a story with more than one child is to write it down. This means writing a book. Well, if you are going to write a book, people need to know it exists, so you’re going to need a newsletter. In order for people to sign up for a newsletter, you’re going to need a website. If you are going to have a website, there needs to be a reason for people to visit it, so you are going to need to write a blog. Now, if you have a blog, you are going to need to tell people about it, so you are going to need to create social media. Being successful on social media is a skill, so you are going to need to get better at it. Getting better at something means seeking and taking objective feedback from others. If others advise you to start a podcast, you need to start a podcast.

At no point did I receive a cookie. And what was it I was supposed to be doing again? Ah, yes, writing a book. Well—editing at this point. I completed my three-book series a while ago. I am now sidelining the full-time task of editing while I attempt to drum up an online presence. Something I  have always gone to great lengths to avoid.

When the suggestion came to start a podcast, I knew it was right. That’s a different thing from wanting to do it. I did not expect this now, but I could not deny that I felt a sense of recognition as if a step in my path I knew would come eventually had just been revealed. For me, short-form social media does not come naturally. The idea of grabbing a person’s attention in seconds runs contrary to a quest to create a novel for young readers. There is a pressure to be slapstick funny, scare people, or infuriate them. This gets the engagement. Nothing triggers an algorithm like an active comment thread, and nothing gets a comment thread growing like a good argument. After consistently seeing the medium as a mandatory distraction, I came to an awareness. This came when I posted a brief video after seeing the movie Wonka. I thought the film was fun and was glad to have seen it in the theater. I believe we vote with our dollar, and I was happy to vote for more singing, fun, and joyful, family-friendly movies. I gave the post very little thought until I read my one comment. “Such a refreshingly optimistic video!”

This comment brought my mini revelation. I could condemn social media for being addictive, reprogramming people’s attention span, desensitizing users to settle nuance, amplifying fear, inciting arguments, and being a place for young people to make very real mistakes with lasting consequences—or I could attempt to be part of the solution. I could ignore it in a dignified boycott or attempt to be a counterbalance. I may influence a trend in a positive way. Many do, as I have discovered. I also believe what is real will rise to the top. It seems I am reluctantly being pointed toward putting my thoughts out to a larger audience. As Nicolas Cage so eloquently put it in his interpretation of a few lines in the Declaration of Independence in the movie National Treasure (speaking of excellent family movies), “Those who have the ability to do something, have the responsibility to do something.”

With this in mind, I have kicked off Henry’s Cabin. A safe haven hidden in a vast wilderness. Some may stumble across it and choose to continue wandering the endless forest. Others may open the door and decide they prefer a hotel. But I hope those seeking what’s offered inside will come in, find a chair by the fire, and feel at home as I talk about my own life philosophy, parenting, books, and habits of growth. I will share shortcuts and truths I find along the way. It’s casual, conversational, and unedited. I don’t have time to edit, so my cabin mates will endure the sounds of tea being sipped inches from a microphone and periods of silence as I completely forget what is happening. After all, I need to get back to the thing that all this started with—writing a book.

However, I may not focus on the books as rigorously or quickly as I thought. The cookie was only part of what the mouse was after. My journey seems to follow the same plot, and my character arch may be a mirror of the mouse in another way. What the mouse really wanted was to spend some time with whoever was providing all those things that went along with the cookie. He just wanted to hang out and connect a little longer before going to bed. In my own journey, perhaps discovering other methods of sharing my stories and discoveries is as important as writing books. Even though the items of my to-do list, if left unattended and in a dark place, tend to reproduce like arctic foxes (commonly dropping litters of fifteen), I am not seeking more to do. However, I am beginning to wonder if what started as an annoying means to an end may be an essential part of my journey.