lea made this

My goal is to increase my regular readership by 200%.

Last weekend, I put out a post on Instagram. It had a carousel of pictures: a collection of photographs I took from a trip with some friends.

Human brains are programmed to weave narratives.

According to the Oxford dictionary, author is defined as “a writer of a book, article, or report.” You might notice that there are no signs of words like professional, money-making, or lucrative.

Back when I was in my early twenties, I was a professional cosplayer.

I can’t tell you how many years of therapy it cost me to write out that statement.

Last week, I was walking into work and listening to music — and as I often do when I’m listening to music, I was dancing a bit as I walked.

As part of my goal-setting, my coach asked me to write a letter to present-day me, from the perspective of one year from now.

Here’s that letter:

Hello, 2026. We’re two days in, and I already feel as though I’ve welcomed you with open arms. But before I entirely say goodbye to 2025, I want to take a moment to acknowledge good ol’ 2025.

Yesterday, I was perusing instagram, and I found a post much like many others I’ve seen before:

“Ten tips to make you a better writer”

Many times in my life, I’ve had what I like to call a cinematic experience. It’s those moments you look back on later and think, “If they ever made a movie about my life, that scene would for sure be in it.”

From Lea’s Journal, dated 12/4/2025:

I’m supposed to write a newsletter for tomorrow.

Imagine, for a moment, your long-term partner turned to you and said, “Hey, so I just got this incredible job opportunity…”

It’s working! This, this thing I’ve been trying to do. It’s working!

About ten years ago, I stopped arguing with people when they complimented me.

This has happened before — but usually, once I really lock in, I find something…

You ever notice how, when you ask people their values, just about everyone says “honesty”?

When it comes to wellbeing content, I tend to be very sparse with directives…

That night, I lay in bed, grieving the loss of something that mattered to me. I cried the sort of tears that fall slowly, one by one, like the beautiful women do in the movies…

Is wanting a symptom of unhappiness?

I’ve been asking myself this question since I finished my latest binge-read, The Midnight Library…

“I don’t know how to capture why,” one subscriber wrote, “but it still feels like you hold back.”

Last week, inspired by a conversation with a friend, I asked my subscribers their thoughts on the “purpose” of my newsletter. (To my delight, many of you replied!)

Every year, on September 9th, I look around and take stock of my life.

Mammoth, California. Sierra Nevada Mountains.

It was our first night out on the trail. We’d had an early start to the day, meaning we reached our campsite with plenty of daylight left.

This morning started like most of my mornings do: walking to the local coffee shop. 

And so I did what any delightfully curious (and maybe slightly shameless) person would do — I approached them.

This week, my job wasn’t to be a data cruncher or strategist: this week, my job was to be a community facilitator. A builder of connections. The bridge between what we’re doing, and why we’re doing it.