I’m Moving! [and other third-act challenges]

I’m moving! No, not physically, not yet. Though this move is just as angst filled and complex as that will be. I’m moving my monthly eLetter (of which posts here are a duplication) to [insert strangled gasping] Substack.

Now I hear your strangled gasps. “Please, not another Substack in my email feed!” Hear me out.

I’ll spare you the whys and why nots that have circled my brain for the past year, and get right to the why now. First, I have a new book coming out in the next months, and neither of my current bloggy platforms are discoverable. Substack—theoretically—is. Second, the platform that’s hosted my monthly letter for four-and-a-half years, is changing their terms (again), and this time it affects my use. I’m aware that all social media platforms suck us in with their awesomeness, then change to less awesome. It’s popularly called “Enshittification.” Like all the shiny things, I’m sure it’s just a matter of time until Substack tarnishes, or maybe has already begun to. But for now, here I go, into the abyss.

The details: One monthly post on the topic of aging. No paywall. No extra-special content for subscribers who pay. In fact, no “upgrade to paid subscriber” buttons. It will still include the “Buy Me a Coffee” opportunity. Many thanks for those who use it, helping me pay for overhead on my various online writing sites. (As the sign at Panera Bread, where I’m writing this, states on their tip jar: “Always appreciated, never expected.”)

Here is what will be different: Posts will look better (arguably). I can include images (huge). It will be easier for readers to comment and engage in conversation (more huge). There will be a monthly digest, with links, of recent posts on my eclectic WordPress blog, making it more of a true newsletter.

At least all that’s my intention, third-act learning curve not withstanding.

Enough of that. I hope you will follow me, and tell a few friends if you feel like it. Find me at gretchenstaebler.substack.com. The name of my presence there is Writing Down the Story, Act 3. 

🌻 🌻 🌻

More Third Act Challenges

The Smart Watch. I got a semi-smart watch recently. Mostly I need two things of it: to tell time without unpocketing my phone—especially on the trail—and a more accurate pedometer than the phone is—also on the trail. Okay, and maybe sleep tracking. It can be linked to my smart phone, but it’s advertised as “senior friendly,” because linking it is too much for us? Maybe it’s assumed we all have a Cricket phones? The advertising feels diminishing. Or maybe the truth is hard. I couldn’t figure out the linking. Or how to use the pedometer, which I now suspect is less accurate than my iPhone, which I thought was under-reporting. Maybe I should read the instructions.

Digital Coupons. At Fred Meyer a few weeks  ago, I tried again to use a digital coupon. I swear it’s a different process at Fred’s than it is at Safeway. Maybe it’s different in produce than it is at the chicken cooler. Do I search and clip the coupon on the app? Or do I use the QR code? I tried both. There may be an answer, but I sure as heck don’t know what it is. In checkout, the avocados didn’t appear as one dollar each. Or the Honeycrisp apples, or whatever damn thing I needed the digital coupon for. I ranted to the trainee checker, and to her trainer when she came to help, that the whole stupid concept is discriminatory. If an item is on sale, it should just be on sale. You shouldn’t have to be a rocket scientist or a millennial to take advantage of on-sale Snoqualmie Blackberry ice cream.

I used to rant about the discrimination because my dead mother, who in her late nineties had still “enjoyed” going to the grocery story, could not have figured out how to use them. By then she had exchanged her Cricket phone for a medical alert device that hung from her neck. In truth, I can’t master the coupon. Bring back senior-friendly couponing. I was once queen of proofs-of-purchase, box-top collecting, and rebating (pulling the Sunday newspaper circulars out of a recycling drop-off because we couldn’t afford a subscription). I know my stuff. A grocery store I shop at twenty miles from home doesn’t use them, nor do they require a membership to get items on sale . . . except on senior day.* (P.S. the two Gen-X employees seemed to be in complete agreement.)

I need to move before I can’t tell time or drive to the grocery store. None of us knows when that day will come. Meanwhile, let’s see if I can make a virtual move, to Substack.

* Update: Two hours after I wrote this draft, I walked into said grocery store and was greeted with new signage: “Sign up today! Clip digital deals.” Sigh. Nothing stays the same. Oh, the irony, as I move to Substack.

I suppose the primary task of the third act is forced adaptation to change: gray hair, wrinkled skin, health woes, new technology. The list goes on. 

🌻 🌻 🌻

I would love to hear from you! Do you have feelings about Substack? What are your challenges these days? Leave a comment and read what others are saying. 

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