Beyond "What Do You Do?": Laura Munson on Wonder, Rejection & Self-Expression

Rachel Peck welcomes bestselling author and Haven Writing Retreats founder Laura Munson to Unmasked, sharing their unexpected family connection through Rachel’s grandmother, artist Fay Peck, and Chicago roots. Laura discusses why she prefers asking “What do you like to do?” over “What do you do?” and describes her love of nature, foraging, horses, reading, and writing. Centering her book The Wild Why, she explores self-expression, the “wonder wound,” perfectionism, and how curiosity plus awe can restore life force in a worried world. They talk about being “nature” everywhere, the importance of silence and genuine connection, and making time to truly answer “How are you?” Laura reflects on grief, self-compassion, and going slowly, and reframes rejection by rejecting society’s success/failure myth and focusing on doing the work. She closes by sharing ways to join Haven retreats, Haven Nest, and her Substack.

Website: Lauramunson.com

Substack: Wonderings With Laura Munson 

Instagram: @lauramunsonauthor

Transcript

Rachel and Laura 0:00

Hello everyone, and welcome to Unmasked, a Beyond Worthy podcast. My name is Rachel Peck, as always, I just wanna direct you to the present moment and just notice wherever you are, your surroundings, your breath, what you smell. The present moment is your gift, so just take a second to pause And with that, Laura Munson is my wonderful guest today who is a New York Times, USA Today, and international best-selling author of the novel Willa's Grove, the memoir This Is Not the Story You Think It Is, and the self-help book The Wild Why?, a Maria Shriver Sunday Paper feature. She has been published in nine countries and has been featured in Vanity Fair, Elle, Redbook, Time, Newsweek, Washington Post, Publishers Weekly, and published in The New York Times Modern Love column, The New York Times Magazine Lives column, O Magazine, Maria Shriver's Sunday Paper, The Sun, and many others. Laura is the founder of the acclaimed Haven Writing Retreats, which we will speak about. She speaks at women's conferences and literary events, and has appeared on Good Morning America, The Early Show, NPR, and media outlets across the globe. She lives in Montana, and the three words that Laura would use to describe herself are wonder, self-expression, and truth. Laura, welcome to Unmasked. Oh, Rachel, I'm so happy to be here. Thank you for the beautiful introduction and for giving us a chance to be present. That's one of the things we often forget, and it has a lot to do with the theme of my most recent book, The Wild Why?, which I'm sure we'll talk about. So thank you for directing us all to this present moment wherever you all are. Hmm. Absolutely. we should start by saying how we know each other, or how we don't know each other fully yet. I was gifted The Wild Why?, your book, for my birthday in May, I've gotten most of the way through, 100 pages left. It's been incredible. My highlighter has been active. My dad gifted it to me, and then shortly after that I got a text from my mom that she had spoken to you, 'cause you guys are all connected, which you're gonna have to share more about. But I was just so excited, 'cause they sent me your number, and I jumped on this opportunity. So if you wanted to give a little bit more of the backstory, please do. it brings me great joy to, fill in the blanks here. So I realize that most of you probably will be listening to this versus seeing it, but if you were in my studio with me today, probably about six different works of art by our dear Rachel Peck's grandmother, Fay Peck, who was a huge part of my childhood in that I grew up in a suburb of Chicago. There was a lot of tennis and golf. I was an artsy girl, much like Rachel's Aunt Adair, who's an amazing artist as well as her mother. And so I would do anything when I was a kid. When the Pecks had a party, it was always outside. It was summertime. It was so much fun. Her grandmother, Fay Peck, did these amazing oils. She hung them outside because she painted them outside. She was a plein air painter. And then I would just, like, sneak into her studio with Rachel's Aunt Adair, the artist, and just bask in the glory of an artist studio. So it's perfect full circle that here we are in my studio full of Fay Pecks. there's just a lot of family love here, and here we are today, and we really, I don't think we've ever met. I've been in your house in Bozeman, but I don't th- maybe, unless you were a little girl No, I actually was saying to Abu, who is helping me with all the tech, he's amazing, that you're my first ever guest actually that I haven't known in advance to an episode. And to be honest, I sometimes am really nervous when I come to an episode, and today I just felt so excited. And I think part of the reason is probably because of just the intertwining that we have with my family and my parents and your guys' friendship. And also having read your book, I felt so much comfort and felt like I, I could know you through the pages you made me feel comfortable just in your writing, which I'm excited to talk more about as well. That's a huge compliment. Thank you. That really hits home because, you know, as a writer, and we'll talk all about, my art form, but as a writer you never really know who's listening, who's reading. even when you look at art, if you're in a gallery the artist can see people reacting to the painting. But with writing you just never know where it lands. So I thank you for sharing that with me. Wow, that's so true. Everyone's just in the abyss in their quiet rooms reading their book and smiling and crying, all the things, and you have no idea. I'm glad that I got the chance to share that with you. my first question that I wanna ask you, because it rung so true to a lot of what I've been trying to build in this podcast community, is the idea that we're so much more than what we do what we do for work, what we study, all the things related to achievement and labels. And you mention that one of your least favorite questions in the book is when someone walks up to you at a party, per se, and says, "What do you do?" And your question instead is, "What do you like to do?" So I wanna turn the question to you and ask you to tell us what you like to do. Oh, thank you. What a nice invitation. Well, I wanna pause my answer for a second and talk about why I ask that question. Because as you find in this book, The Wild Why: Stories and Teachings to Uncover Your Wonder, I had a very strong addiction to ambition for a long time, and a lot of that came from how I grew up. I was very privileged, white privilege, went to prep school, stuff I don't like talking about in Montana. the list goes on. but stereotypically on the page, I was built for whatever success is by society's constructs. And at a certain point, I thought, "I'm gonna do it my way. I'm gonna go be an artist." And I, again, your grandmother was an influence in this way. She did it her own way. And they spent a lot of time out west. I spent time out west. I was lucky enough to go to a great camp uh, Chile Colorado Camps, And we lived in covered wagons for the summer. It was so cool. I think that's in part why I live here in Montana. And so when I moved out here, I realized that so many people had moved here because they wanted to be in the West, and they wanted to do the things they loved to do. And in many cases, they were leaving something that they were supposed to do But instead wanted to recreate themselves. And so I left the world of people who, they're now all retired, and, you know, have several homes, and, I've just been this sort of artist out here in Montana for 30-plus years. But so many of the people, when I would go home or to different places, suburbs of Boston, Chicago, New York City, where my friends were doing what they were supposed to be doing, again, by society's constructs in that realm, they kinda didn't know what to do with me because I was this wild card that came out to Montana, which they still say, "How's life in Wyoming?" You know? I'm actually, like, a 20-hour drive north in northwest Montana, and they're like, "Oh, same thing, one of those big square states out there." And I love my friends, and I'm not dissing them at all. I'm just saying When I got here, I fit in because people were recreating their lives, and I was, too. And so I would say to people here, I mean, nobody asked me here when I moved, "So what do you do?" Meaning, what do you do for work? It was, "What do you like to do?" So that, I, I didn't create that. That was taught to me by the people who live here. And not everybody's just running around mountain biking and kayaking and climbing mountains and river rafting and fishing all the time. Obviously, people have to work and make an honest wage here, and, most of the people who live here year-round are those people. but still, I noticed when I moved here that people would work three jobs at minimum wage, or whatever it took so that they could do what they wanted to do. Even if they didn't love their job, it was fine because they got to ski. I live in Whitefish, Montana. We're near Glacier National Park. and so I took that back to my different places that I'd lived with my friends from childhood and into high school and college. What do you like to do? And at first they were so conditioned to, this what do you do question. and their eyes would sort of fade, kinda darken, and they'd maybe even look to the left and the right or to the sky, and they'd say, "Oh, you know, I manage a hedge fund," or, whatever, uh, job they had. but there wasn't a lot of light in their eyes necessarily. And when they registered that I was saying, "What do you like to do?" Their eyes would come alive. They'd almost interrupt themselves, "Wait, what do I like to do? Oh, I like to kayak. I like to ride horses. I like to walk around in the woods. I like to ski." I, you know? I thought, wow, I've chosen a life that even though it's much more challenging recreating yourself, especially as an artist- I chose a life that I like, and I'm proud of that, and I've modeled that to my children. So that is my long-winded answer to the question you didn't ask. And I will now answer the question. But I'm proud of that because I think that for anyone out there listening, try it on for size, especially when you walk into a party and, and you don't know people and you're just, you know, trying to get to know people and connect. Ask, "What do you like to do?" And see what happens. Mm. It's so much more fun, I think, than what do you do. Hopefully they're one and the same. Okay, what do I like to do? I like to do all the things I just said that I like to walk around in the woods. I love foraging for mushrooms. We have beautiful morels up here, some chanterelles. I love to ride horses, and not, in a formal way. I just like to hop on a horse and head for the hills. that's something I've loved to do all my life. I love to hang out with my dogs. I love Glacier National Park. I mean, to be able to live near such a beautiful place. I go there as much as I can, and we're so lucky because, Logan Pass, is closed most of the year. But during some times of the year you can ride your bike- Yeah up that road. And these days for me it's an e-bike. Sorry, it's cheating, I know. but like to have that road, the Going-to-the-Sun Road, to yourself- on a Monday afternoon, I mean, it's... So those are some of the... And I love to, I mean, obviously I love to read, and the thing I probably love to do the most, outside of mother my children, who are now adults, and I have a new grandson, is write. That is my passion. I have every journal back to fourth grade in a closet over on the other side of the room, and that is something that has been my way to breathe all my life. Thank you for sharing all that, and I'm glad that you answered an unasked question because- it was beautiful and gave a lot of context. And I feel so grateful to have grown up in Montana where you can do so many of the nature-oriented things that you mentioned, because that's a grounding force for me where I find peace, spirituality, safety, just being in trees, fresh air, near water, on mountaintops. going back to the question of what do you do, living in New York City, which is where I am currently, that's huge, 'cause everyone talks about what they do. And I'm gonna use that challenge and definitely continue to go around asking people what they like to do. one question I've actually done a lot walking around the city is asking people how they would describe themselves if they couldn't tell me what they do for work, what they study, who their parents are, how much money they make, and that's been really enlightening, 'cause a lot of people don't know and they're stumped. Oh, yes you know, while we're on the subject, because I think it's pretty rare, I also, I lived in New York City for a, a little while a long time ago, and, um, Boston, Chicago, London, Seattle back in the '90s before it was... I mean, it was like grunge, and it was Nirvana and Pearl Jam, and that was a whole lot of fun to live there then. But one of the things that I've learned, and it's in my novel that's published called Willa's Grove, one of the characters who lives outside of New York City in the suburbs, she comes out to Montana and she says to Willa, "I love who I've been out here in nature." And Willa says to Jane, "But Jane, you are nature." You are nature in Midtown Manhattan. You are nature in an elevator in Midtown Manhattan. You are nature wherever you go. So this phrase, "I love who I am out in nature," I invite people to turn it around and reframe it a bit because you are nature. But I love how you said it, the way you feel around trees, the way you feel, I mean, for me, on the shores of a mountain lake. The way you feel when you hear a loon fly over in an early summer morning moment. We are nature, and I realize that it doesn't feel like we're nature in a subway in New York City, but we are. That's an incredible image. So go sit on a park bench in, in Central Park and remember you are nature, and then bring what you have with you to the subway and see if you can feel that you still are nature. Thank you for that. So well said. It's, it's a good reminder when nature isn't physically present in all aspects of life. The Wild Why, I would love to ask you, if someone was considering reading this book in particular of yours, what is the main thing that you hope that they would gain from the pages and the messages in Wild Why? This book took me 10 years to write. If there are writers out there in this audience, not everybody needs 10 years to write a book. It takes me a long time, and it's also because I'm usually writing a couple other books at the same time. My love is fiction. I've written, I think, 23 unpublished novels, many of them exercises in learning. I've got about eight that I think are good and one is published. Working on a new one. so The Wild Why was a big departure for me because while I've written a bestseller in the memoir field, Life According to Me, and then an- another bestseller, in the novel genre, which is, is my favorite. To me, fiction is, like, distilled reality, like realer than real. I'd never really written or read a self-help book, but because I'm now a teacher and lead writing retreats, I've learned a lot about what gets in the way of our self-expression, and I think if there's one message I want people to glean from this book- It has to do with your self-expression and getting past what so many people believe as adults, that they don't have a voice, that they're stuck in their self-expression, that somebody already expressed themselves better than they ever could. They don't have letters after their name in the, the field of self-expression that interests them, and then they stop. And I was walking around in the woods one day, so I'm a storyteller, so you ask me a question, I'll probably give you context. That's kind of the way I roll. I was walking around the woods one day in Montana, as one does and I thought, "You know, I keep hearing these refusals," I call them, from people, m- the ones I just said. "I'm stuck. I don't have a voice," et cetera. "I'm not creative." That's the one that breaks my heart. And I do a lot of speaking, and so I hear a lot of people talk about their own experience of self-expression, and those are, like, the buzz phrases that people have believed. "I don't have a voice. I'm not creative." And so I thought, you know, I think maybe creativity scares people. I think it's a big word. I think that when we're young in traditional, education in this country, we get slotted. You're a jock. You're a brain. You're artsy. You're pretty. You're a, you know, a nerd. You're whatever it is, and that's such a disservice. Not all schools, but traditional education, those were the messages that we got. So then the jocks walk away thinking, "I'm not smart and I'm not creative," and the brains walk away thinking, "I'm smart, but I'm not a jock," or, "I'm not artsy." And then it's the artsy people that walk away with, "I'm creative," but then we're artsy, so, the world doesn't necessarily reward us for these things. Um, and so I thought, sitting on that stump, w- I think the word creativity scares people. So what's behind creativity? And that's when I thought about wonder. Mm. And then I thought, well, that's a pretty big concept, too. What is wonder really? And then sitting on that stump, I thought, "Well, I think it's curiosity. I wonder what makes the sky blue." But I believe it's awe that we need to step into more than our curiosity, and I think our s- society, in the United States at least, is very heavy on curiosity. Hey Google, what makes a rainbow? But now what are we doing? Are we looking at the rainbow? no, we're looking at our screen. So what if wonder is curiosity and awe put together? Awe requires stopping or just taking pause, like the way that you began this podcast. And it is not a silly, frilly idea. I've been 10 weeks across this country and all over the place with this book for the last year and a half, and I have found in this worried world that people are so hungry for their wonder, specifically their awe. They're stopping, they're taking pause, looking around, feeling, observing, receiving. And I wondered how this book was gonna land because our world is so worried right now. Would people think it's a silly, frilly idea? No. So the takeaway from this book to me is that wonder, especially awe, is not only ours by birthright, but it is life force. And I can promise you, when you were a kid, the proverbial you, anybody out there, including Rachel and me, we probably were playing in a sandbox in a public park someplace, and You know how kids just, they just jump into each other's arms. I wanna go play. Let's go play. Let's go swing. Let's play in the sandbox. They're not sitting around thinking, "I'm not creative. I don't have a voice." they're not looking at a watch that tells them how many steps they've taken that day. They just wanna play. And even if they've endured abuse, especially they wanna play. I want us to get back to the sandbox. If there's one thing you walk away with after reading The Wild Why, it's I want you to get back to the sandbox. What you already know that's in you, you've just potentially forgotten Incredible. What are some of the symptoms or internal feelings, experiences that one might feel when they're lacking wonder, curiosity plus awe? Or maybe from your own experience, was there a buildup of experiences or internal wrestling that led you to be like, "Oh, man, I'm really missing this"? Well, the book begins with my fourth grade journal which was the last pink thing I owned. It was pink patent leather with the word private on it that I got at a store that was huge in our little town. It was like the stationary store called Helanders, and it was full of mom-and-pop shops back then, Lake Forest, Illinois. And I have this from my fourth grade journal, Rachel, and this breaks my heart. In fourth grade, I think you're nine. Nine years old. Straight out of my journal. "I talk too much. I ask too many questions. I cry too easily. I laugh too loud. I'm too sensitive. I'm not sure what that means, and I feel bad about all of it." I'll read it again quickly. "I talk too much. I ask too many questions. I cry too easily. I laugh too loud. I'm too sensitive. I'm not sure what that means, and I feel bad about all of it." Laura Munson, fourth grade journal. So Where does this wound start? It can start in early childhood because did I really talk too much? Did I really laugh too loud? Was I really too sensitive? These are things that probably one person said to me An elder, a contemporary, another child. Is it true? No. That was just somebody else's measuring stick, and I believed it. And I think that's what happens, that we all have a wound on some level when it comes to our self-expression, and many of us are very sensitive people, feeling things all the time, full of empathy, sometimes to a fault. We don't necessarily have a filter. We take everything in. And for those kids to have one person say one thing like that, "You talk too much," that's something that we might believe and feel shame about and engrave into our minds and hearts and even souls for the rest of our lives. And I want us to become aware of those wounds, and I want, I want us to tell a new story. What is the truth? Can you sell it? Maybe you do talk a lot. I talk a lot. That wound is still alive in me right now as I'm answering these questions, and I realize I'm answering them at length because we have, a spacious amount of time. If this was a five-minute interview, I would be answering in, like, quick little blips. But I love having room to express myself, and yet I still have that wound. I'm talking too much. I need to wrap up my answer. Stop talking. And that is simply something that I habituated, and I co-create with that habituation, and it's time to stop it. It's time to tune in to how our thought patterns serve us and sabotage us, and all too often it's the latter. So I hope in this book that people will become aware of how they speak to themselves in their own mind. Most of us wouldn't speak to our worst enemies the way we speak to ourselves in our own minds. And in fact, that's what my memoir, This Is Not the Story You Think It Is: A Season of Unlikely Happiness, is really about. It's about finding emotional liberation during times of great conflict and pain. I don't know if that answered your question. I meandered. I talk too much. Oh, there's the wound. Oh, well. if you tune into what your intention is, that's what matters. Maybe the words that spill out, spill out in a clumsy way or a clunky way or a long way. So what? Mm-hmm. Express yourself. Give yourself permission to be exactly who you are and find ease. That's what I want for people. Oh, that brings me so many different directions. One word that keeps coming to mind is perfectionism, I have been wrapped up in perfectionism for a long time, especially as a collegiate athlete. Always expected to perform, look perfect, sound perfect, play perfect, all the things. It's very restrictive- and does not allow self-expression. No. you know, I lead these writing retreats, which we can talk about later, but, I've worked with over 1,000 people, and I have three gymnasts who were Olympiads who've done my retreat, Haven Writing Retreats, and I've heard a lot about perfectionism. it's like for a long time I used to think I had to be perfect as a writer, and that was that ambition addiction I had for a long time. And I finally, like, put down the sword, and that's when the real writing came out. That's when the heart language really came out. And so in helping people with their, with their self-expression, at least at Haven and in, in the various workshops I do, some for writers and some others just for self-express- self-connection and self-expression, I say to people on the first night, "I invite you to step outside of the societal constructs of good and bad," and I don't mean ethically, but I mean, like, good writer, bad writer, good athlete, bad athlete. "I invite you to step outside of the constructs of good, bad, right, wrong, grade at the end, GPA, and the mother of them all, perfection, and take a free fall into the free zone that is Haven, and I will be holding the net, I promise," and in over 1,000 people, I've never once dropped it. And I feel such a collective sigh when I offer that invitation because so many people struggle with perfectionism and the pain it causes. when I say drop the sword, it doesn't mean don't strive. Mm-hmm. But I, here's where I'll leave this one. For a long time, I wore the I am a writer story and reality like a badge, and it often set me apart, and I liked that. that's how I set this up at the beginning of this session, that I, I was sort of a rebel. I pushed back. I did things differently. But that didn't mean that it felt good. And it occurred to me one day that I was wearing I am a writer as a badge to keep people away, like a sword. And when I finally put that one down and said, I am a human. Writing is of me- Mm but it is not me." Then everything changed for me So frequently we talk about labels in conversations that I've had with many people, and at first I shunned labels because I think that they can be really restrictive for that reason, when we identify too strongly with something, being an athlete, being a writer. And I've tried to change my mindset and be in relationship with them and understand how a label can serve us. But I love the reframe you just used with your experience as being of writing. Is that how you said it? I am a writer. It is of me, but it's not me. Yes. Identity, belonging, these two things are what people just long for. But if we let society define who we are, now we're not self-defining, and now we're under the thumb of what other people think of us, and that does not work I wrote down one of the quotes from your book, and that was, "Somehow you've allowed yourself to be completely defined by everyone but you. How can you let go of everyone else's version of what your truth is and what's best for you, and find your own?" And that was a moment where I took a breath, soaked it in, and thought about it, because I've been there. I've let people define me, choose for me. what do you say to people who are in this hamster wheel of adopting definitions from other people and are having a hard time stepping out of that? I know this sounds... No, I'm not gonna qualify it. Get back to the sandbox. I'm telling you, the little kid in you didn't have that story. Mm-hmm. and it's not that we can stay in the sandbox all our lives, right? And we can't all run around doing what we wanna do all the time either. we have bills to pay, and, you know, hopefully you love your job, and hopefully you love what, you know, your course of study or wherever you are in your life. But I think... Look, all right, there's a poet that if, and if you don't know her, you will now, and her name is Naomi Shihab Nye, and she's one of my very favorite poets. I learned about her from a Haven Writing Retreat alum. and now Naomi and I are friends. I reached out to her because I read one of her poems on every retreat. And she and I, she lives in San Antonio, and she's also a teacher, and leads retreats. And she was my conversation partner, for my event, for the Wild Why in San Antonio. And we went out afterwards, and we just had so much fun, immediate kindred spirit. And she said something that blew me away, and she's been through a lot. Her son died. I mean, we've all been through a lot. This beautiful and heartbreaking thing called life is as my grandmother would say, "It ain't for sissies." Which is her way of playing it down, you know, and that was her, her humor, the one that was friends with your great-grandmother. And, and Naomi said to me at dinner, "No big things, Laura. No big things." Just tiny things. Mm. Tiny things. And I really took that to heart because that is like the pendulum swing from the big ambition brass ring in your hand, I want this, I want this. and I think it's really common for athletes to be sold that you should be reaching for the brass ring literally. Like, if you're running a marathon or running, whatever, doing track, like, gotta grab the baton or I don't... I'm not very athletic at all, I have to admit. So like when my son tried out for baseball, I said, "How did auditions go?" He's like, "Mom, oh my God." I'm so sorry. I'm not into theater. I was a theater major. but I loved when Na- Naomi said that at dinner. No big things. Because that's how we live our life. It's little thing by little thing, and if we can really use that as a true practice- Not as this sort of, "Oh, now I'm gonna go l- watch birds." It's like, why can't we always be watching for birds? W- w- why aren't we sitting on park benches? why are we looking at our phones all the time? I mean, just standing in line, I was at the grocery store, and we've got lots of tourists here in Whitefish because we live near Glacier National Park and it's summertime. And, you know, so there was a long line at our little local corner s- convenience store. And everybody was on, just looking at their phone. Like, God forbid you turn to the person to your left in line and be like, "Hey, what are you doing today?" Like, are you, here for the summer or are you here as a tourist? Or do you live here? You know, just the way it used to be, I liked talking to people in checkout lines. And I find that in small town America we do it more than we do, um, in cities and stuff. And understandably so. You can't take everything in all the time. And sometimes you do kinda feel like you need to look at your phone because maybe somebody needs to contact you. But I just think there's something to be said about what Naomi said. No big things. Like, just, and what you said at the beginning of this, Rachel, like, just notice what's around you right now. Yeah. M- my friend, who also loves Naomi's poetry, she and I text each other, and it's often, 'cause we used to write letters, now we text, and we, we do this thing where we just write about, like, exactly what's going on in the moment. And she wrote, she wrote in her text yesterday, "I'm sitting in my garden. My right eye is dry." "The geraniums are as bright a pink as any pink I've ever seen. there's a slug in the moss." Mm. This is not silly. This is wonder, and this is, again, life force. We live our life in moments, moment by moment. So let's honor that and learn from them, and make room for them, which means we need to stop There was a period of time in my life where I was really lacking joy. And I was like, "Oh, man, what? What is it? what's missing? How am I to be happy again?" I was kinda moving through the world on autopilot. I remember starting to meditate, and after a couple of months even of meditating, I walked outside, just my normal route to the subway. Actually, I was living in London at the time, so to the Tube And I smelled a flower, and I realized I hadn't smelled a flower just by walking around in so long. Like, usually people would be like, "Oh, do you smell that?" And I would always be like, "No. Like, how, what? My smell's terrible." And in that moment, I felt so much joy, and I realized that joy was the present moment through smelling a flower. So I just could not agree with you more, the importance of noticing, being in awe of all the sensations around us. And in addition to that, you talk about the lack of communication that we have walking through the world as well. I think in general we've lost some bits of connection with ourself, with each other, with the spirit, with nature. It's really sad 'cause I think there's, there's a lot to be found there and I hope that people will take this to heart and just stop and notice, and start to send friends these little, slugs in their garden as well. I just love that, "My right eye is dry." Yeah. I was like... And then I, I tuned in, I was like, "You know what? My right eye is dry too." It's... But this is, again, like I know there are probably listeners out there saying, "Good for you all, but I've got... I'm a single mom, I got three kids at home, I got two jobs, I've got, I can't pay my mortgage this month." You know, whatever it is that is weighing on us, I promise you that especially if you have so much on your shoulders, you need to slow down, even if just for a few breaths. Because that is how you're going to stay self-connected, self-compassionate, stop beating yourself to the next thing. Go, go, go, go, go. Come on, you gotta go. I... And I suffer from this. I mean, I wrote about this, but that doesn't mean... That... I mean, I, I say in the book, like, "Look, I'm not an expert, uh, on this. I don't have letters after my name. I'm not a, I'm not a wonderologist." But we all are wonderologists. Yeah. But I one time noticed that I was It's not one time, I do this a lot, where I'll just in the... 'Cause I run my own business, and I have, like, three different jobs within that business, and I raised my kids, for the last years as a single mother. so every so often, I just get going so fast, and I'm capable of going really fast. That's the thing. I'm capable of being, like, a super achiever, and there's a side of me that is still pushing myself in that way, that perfectionism you were talking about. And I said out loud not long ago, All right? I'm doing my best. I'm doing my best, okay? leave me alone." And then I stopped and I'm like, "Who am I talking to? Who am I talking to?" "Who am I talking to right now? Leave me alone. I'm doing my best, okay?" And, and then I said, "You try." You try. Who am I talking to? And I hope there's somebody out there nodding instead of thinking I need to get some serious help, psychologically. But do you catch yourself? I'm not asking you, Rachel, but, like, listeners, just know you're not alone. But maybe put the whip down. Does it really help you to be chasing yourself like that, dogging yourself so that you out loud, alone in a room, say, "I'm doing the best I can. You try." What if we were kind to ourselves? Sweetheart, you're working so hard. Your life could sustain a moment to have a cup of tea and sit down and breathe and stare at the slug in the moss on your garden pathway. What would happen? would the sky fall? Would you lose your job because you did that? No. In fact, you would be better off because you did that. So I'm trying to move personally and through this book into a place of self-compassion, kindness, ease. Not that life is easy. We die at the end of this thing. We're mortal. This is a beautiful and heartbreaking thing, this mortal life. Why not find ease? What's wrong with that? Nothing. Nothing. You talked about this wonder wound so frequently in the book, and I recognize that a lot of what you were quoting earlier, you know, I talk too much, I'm too loud, or, or some of those quotes you were using from your fourth grade journal are part of that whole wonder wound. And one part of the book that was just, again, a highlight is that recently when people share their stories or are speaking to someone, they say, "Enough about me. How about you?" I've said that so many times, enough about me, how about you? It's like this deflection to not want to share our story and who we are. Is that what your experience was? Yeah, this is a really great one, and really important, so thanks for pointing it out, Rachel. now that the book's been out for a year and a half, I've heard from a lot of readers, and also been in lots of situations where I've been, um, on a stage and taking questions, Q&A, and that's probably the number one thing people hit on. Because toward the third section of the book, there's a section wherein this friend of mine who had a big, huge job, um, as a producer in New York City for a show on CNN that everybody has heard of, and she decided to take a hiatus and go across the country and interview regular folks, because sh- her job was to book people that had achieved a whole lot, and she wanted... She was fascinated by, the every human. And so she set off on a road trip across the country and interviewed people, and she chose to meet with me. and we had become friends. It's a longer story, and it's in the book. But she said, "Bring your guitar, bring a- an open heart, bring your journal, and let's sit together all day long and really answer the question, how are you?" And that's in, in part what inspired Willow's Grove, actually, because that's what these women do. They come to Montana, four women at huge crossroads moment- moments in their lives, pretending they're fine. "I'm fine. Everything's fine. How are you?" In the grocery store buying broccoli. "I'm fine. How are you? Enough about me." Um, "How are your kids? Let's... Tell me all about your kids' soccer stats." Like, enough about me. I think that just comes from fear. And, also sometimes we don't owe everybody our whole story, right? Like, buying broccoli and somebody says, "How are you?" You don't need to say, "I'm not great. My mom just died, and I'm in grief, and it seems to attack at will, and therefore right now I'm, uh, going to apologize because I may start crying." If anybody out there a- is in grief like that, like I'm in that right now, it's weird the stuff that comes out of your mouth. but that's in part why we say, "Enough about me," or, "I'm fine," or, "What about you?" Or, all that. it's discomfort. But it's so important to carve out time with somebody who's safe and really share about how you are, and to create enough time so that you can share, and then that person can share. And so when I say, it's funny, like when I say this in various suburbs or cities where people are going fast all the time, when I've been promoting The Wild Why, I'll say, do you have two hours?" And I, I don't say it like, "Do you have two hours?" as a joke. Like, "Oh, how am I? Do you have two hours?" And usually everybody laughs Like no, who has two hours? Of course you have two hours if you prioritize speaking your truth. And it requires finding somebody who is safe I mean, actually just last night I hung out with a friend for four hours, around her fire pit in Montana, and that's what we did. We answered the question, how are you, and gave each other a long time to answer, and we knew it was going to be reciprocal. This is so important. So that chapter in the book is called, The Tiger in the Room. It's in part three on page 247. And we spend an entire day together at this bar, and then later at this hotel in, it was in Livingston, Montana, which is not far from where, where you grew up. and we just talked about how we really are, were at the time. That is luxurious and seems like an impossibility for so many people. Why? We need to make room. But again, you don't owe your story to everyone. It's important to find somebody who really wants to be equal in that and to make the time, and maybe it's a whole weekend. Maybe you get one day, and they get the next day. To me, this is another life force affirming and necessary exercise. How are you? Do you have two hours? Because I'd love to really share. I wonder if it's the case because how are you, the question, is so overused in that I can tell a distinct difference when someone walks up to me and is like, "How are you?" Versus, "How are you?" With genuine intention of wanting to listen and to know. And I wonder if it's 'cause we just use it so frequently as, like, a passing phrase that no one takes it seriously I had a foreign exchange, uh, student, uh, live with us when my kids were in middle school and high school from Sweden. And she spoke English perfectly, but she was trying to understand our culture. And again, mind you, this is in small town Montana. This is not, on the Upper East Side in New York City and, or where- wherever. And it's slow-paced here. But she came home and she said, "Laura, when people say, 'How are you?' here, do they want an answer?" And I said, "Gi- give me an example." And she said, "Well, I was at the grocery store," actually the same grocery store I was just talking about. And she said... We only have a few. And She said, I was just buying," whatever I was buying, and the cashier said, "Hi, how are you? That'll be $15." Am I supposed to answer how I am? And I said, "Wow, that is such an interesting insight into our culture." And I think it's exactly what you just said, Rachel. We use it as a, like, a fill-in phrase. Mm-hmm. And there's a big difference between, "Hi, how are you? That'll be $15," and, "How are you?" I wish we had a different way of saying... I try not to say how are you unless I mean it. Mm-hmm. It's nice to see you, Or, beautiful day we're having. It reminds me, I'm currently in grad school at Columbia, so frequently we're asked questions in class. And I know that, you know, kids are asked questions throughout all of schooling, but just that grocery example of them being like, you know, "How are you? That's 15 bucks," it makes me think of a teacher asks a question, and is like, "Anyone have questions?" And then just moves on. there's sometimes just a lack of, silence or space. And I, I wouldn't say that I have professors that do that, but in taking classes that are centered around how we can enhance education, especially in youth, that is often talked about, silence is powerful. Oh, yeah. And giving people space. Yeah. The other one that I don't like is, you know, I'm somebody who loves words, so I pay attention to how people use them. Uh, when people can say, "Does that make sense? Anyway, blah, blah, blah," they use, "Does that make sense?" as a pause phrase, and I always say, I interrupt before they go on and I say, "Yes, thank you. That does make sense," or, "No, actually, that doesn't make sense. Could you help me understand what you mean?" That's the other one. "Do you know what I mean? Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah." So they're just habituated, m- little kind of fill-in phrases, but it's confusing. I just thought that was such a great insight from somebody from a different culture. Are we supposed to answer? Does that make sense anyway? Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. It's like, wait a minute. Did you ask a question or not? But you're right to be... Like, it's a challenge. Try it. I mean, you're good at it, I think. I'm good at it. I've learned it. I mean, not, like, right now I'm not gonna have a big, huge pause, but when I'm sitting with a client on one of my retreats in our one-on-one, I do a lot of silent observing. And while I want to fill in blanks because I do like to talk and I like to be insightful, I've learned it's m- much more important to allow the space for them to be, witnessed- Yes in a safe way. it's a overused phrase in the world of leading retreats, but to hold the space for somebody to be exactly where they are in that moment, that requires silence sometimes, and that can be scary for people. Absolutely. It can be very uncomfortable. I wanna ask you a question related to this season of grief that you're in, and my heart goes out to you and your family, your mom named Gigi. Is that right? Well, yes. She was- Virginia, and then her nickname was Ginny, and then- Mm her grandmother name was Gigi. Oh. Yes. Okay. Ginny. and in this season of grief, I'm curious what it looks like to love yourself and care for yourself, because you mention the importance of that a lot in the book. And I'd love for you to answer that if you feel comfortable, almost as a way to give people permission to recognize what loving themself can look like in different seasons. Yeah. Beautiful question, and I... Listen, I, like I said, I'm not always good at this. I've worked hard to try to be, aware of the way my thought patterns serve me and sabotage me. But my dad died, in 2004. And, he and I were really close. he was kind of my person, and I love my mom and my mom loved me, but my dad and I had something really special. And when he died, it just about almost took me down, and my son was four years old. My daughter was eight. And, I called a friend, and listen, you call a trusted friend. When you're going through a hard time, you do not have to suffer alone. Ultimately, it is kind of an inside job, but it's really important to share how you're doing, especially if you're not doing well. And I wasn't doing well, and I called him, and he's, he's an author. I'm not gonna say who it is, not that you're asking, but he's just a, an incredible author and insightful human being, and was my mentor for many years. And he said, "You've just lived in the ICU for a month with your father, helping him live and helping him die, in the ICU." And I had the night shift, so it was standing there. He would take off his oxygen mask, I would put it back on. He would take it off, I would put it back on all night long because the nurses said, "This is not our job." he would need a, professional caregiver to do that job. It's a, an ICU, they're dealing with so much people living and dying and fighting for their life. And so I took that job at night, and my mother and sister took that job during the day for a month. And when I came back to Montana, everything looked different. Just like any time you've been in, in a hospital and you come back, or been in any kind of situation that's dark for you, to come back into the world, everything's like Technicolor, and the sun is really bright and it's like you just wanna get in bed and put the, at least I did, the covers over my head. And I called this friend, and I remember I was sitting on my front porch just kind of in shock, and he said, "Laura, go slowly and be careful." And I think when he said careful, he didn't mean necessarily protective. I think he meant, full of care, like wonderful, two Ls. "Go slowly and be careful because you've just been incredibly open and hyper laser focused in trying to keep your father alive and then help him d- die well. Go slowly. Be careful." And that's actually the advice that I give on the last night at Haven because a good retreat should unbraid you a little, not have you come undone, and then put you back together again in a new way so you can go back into the world new. That's what a good retreat should do, and that's what Haven does. It's not about me. It's about the retreat, so I can talk about it like this. So I tell them the last night, "Look, you're very open right now. You're new." The poet Emma Mullen, she's a physician, who lives just outside of Philadelphia. she's quoted in The Wild Why, and one of the lines from her poem, I forget the name of the poem right now, it might be Kindness, is, "Allow yourself to be spelled differently." Allow yourself to be spelled differently. And if you step into that allowing, often on a retreat, that's a perfect place for that. It's outside of the rigor and responsibilities of your daily life. That's when that newness can happen. So when you go back into the world, don't just go leaping in. you're spelled differently right now And it might require going slowly and being careful. Mm-hmm. And this is something that I can't stress enough. I don't mean to say your life depends on it, but when you're in severe grief like I was after my dad died, I needed that advice, to just slow down. if you've got a big, huge mound of clean laundry on your laundry room floor, Mount St. Laundry, just do the socks. If your dishwasher is clean, just do the top drawer. Go slowly, be careful. This is a, a form of self-love, and there's no time like grief to require this of us. grief, I have found, takes you by the shoulders and shakes you and says, "I'm not gonna go away." And it can sort of attack like a monster at will. My mother lived a very, very rich life all the way to 93, and she was playing bridge. She loved to play bridge and needlepoint, and she was a real go-getter, doing all the things she loved to do all the way to pretty much the end. And so it was a really graceful death. And Dad, Dad was 86 when he died, and, uh, it was also a graceful death. So these were not trauma deaths. But still, to lose a parent is, it's a big time in your life to go slowly, be careful, be mindful, go with ease, go with self-kindness and compassion, go with earnestness and wonder, and stop when you can. that's my goal for... It's 4th of July weekend, and I don't even... I love 4th of July. My parents loved 4th of July. And I w- I'm gonna go way up to the North Fork of the Flathead River, way, way up in Glacier, off the grid, stay in a little cabin, bring my guitar and my journal, and, my puppy and go slowly and be careful because I know to take this seriously. It is, just like wonder, not a silly, frilly idea, but life force. I loved reading about, what you were saying about your father in the book, someone who set your wonder free is what you said about your father, which I thought was really beautiful. Within all this You mentioned, Naomi and a few other, poets and writers that influenced you. I think there was also someone named Jim Harrison. Is that- Am I getting that right? Oh, yes you are. Okay. Well- I've got a picture of him right here. Oh. He, he was my, literary hero starting at age 18, and by the end of his life, my friend. I loved reading the story of you reaching out to him and first meeting him. the reason that I wanna bring him up is because it relates to this topic around putting other people on a pedestal, especially when you look up to them or they're your literary hero. And you wrote in the book, "Having the courage to reach past my hero worship taught me to stop giving away my power to those I admired and to see that they are as human as I am." Tell us more about this quote, Jim Harrison if you want, and what it took to take your power back. There's only one place to go when you're on a pedestal, and that is off. Clay feet. If somebody puts us on a pedestal, we're gonna end up on the ground. which is why I'm really careful on my retreats. I'm in the circle, too. on the page, I'm the same way. It's like maybe I'm braver than you, but not by much. I, I think that's actually in The Wild Wild. Like, I'll hold the torch. Let's go into this forest that i- is dark, and I know that there are grizzly bears there, 'cause I live in Montana, but I know my way through. and I'll hold the light, and I've got a backpack with bear spray and CLIF Bars and water and all that. But, I'm gonna take your hand. I'll be the guide. But again, I might be a little braver than you just because I've been through those woods and I know there's beauty in there, treasure. I'll lead the way, but I- I'm also feeling a lot of the same things you're feeling. That's how I lead the retreats, too, and how I, I try to show up on the page. and so when you put somebody on a pedestal, and There's several writers that I've done that with in my life. Terry Tempest Williams is the other one, and she's also written about in the book. I consider her a dear soul sister. And if you go on my website, lauramunson.com, you'll see in the events section, I believe, an interview when Willa's Grove came out. It was March 2020. So I, I got about 14 events in before, COVID hit, and it was time to pack everything up. 38 events I had to cancel, and, and workshops, and go back home like everybody else. They, we all have our COVID story. but, Terri i- did an online interview with me, and it w- y- you see me, and I'm, I look like a little girl, like, meeting her hero. my smile is just literally from ear to ear. I've got tears in my eyes the whole time. And everyone's this, every- we're just human beings That's it. But maybe we do have something to impart, some sort of wisdom or leadership to somebody. And w- when I finally met J- I'm just, I'm looking at a picture of us right now, so but when I finally met him, you know, I, I realized y- here we were in this little, teeny, teeny town called Patagonia, Arizona, and there's, like, one bar in town, The Wagon Wheel, and we met there. I finally wrote him a letter because it wasn't that I wanted something from him anymore. I have, like, 25 letters that I never sent to him because they all were just this wanting, kinda greedy, kinda like, vindicate me. tell me who I am. promise me some- just that yucky, greedy feeling that you get when... Like, I used to get it a lot when I would go to writing conferences, and there would be an author on the stage or an agent or an editor. Like, help me, see me, get me published. And especially living here, you know, I took myself out of the, the race, and so those opportunities were few and far between, and I had little kids at the time, too. And, when I finally met some of these people, I realized that they're just people like me who sit at the intersection of heart and mind and craft that is the writing life, and most of us aren't asked to do it. Mm-hmm. And so I realized that by putting somebody on a pedestal, you're essentially allowing something outside of who you are to define who you are. If they like me, if they accept me, then I must be okay. And that's an insane way to live your life. When you base your happiness on things outside of your control, things or people, that is truly insanity, and I have learned that the hard way. And when I finally met these people, it was like, oh, they're just people- Like me. And it actually really made everything a lot easier. We have to define who we are from the inside out, not from the outside in. And that took me a while to learn. Such a good reminder. And I think that's one of the reasons after reading that in your book that made me feel so comfortable just to show up today and meet you even though we hadn't spoken, on the phone or anything, because I recognized that you, make it clear to other people in your life, no matter of status, that we are all one and the same. We're all equal in our ways. Maybe there's extra bravery in different areas, but I think that's a really important reminder as we move through the world to keep our own confidence up as well. 'Cause I think as soon as I put people or idealize people in my life, it's almost like, well, I'm just, I'm enough, too. Even if I don't have the accolades or the letters by my name or whatever it might be. So I appreciate you saying that. I wanna ask one question, About rejection, which I know you faced so many times, the rejections when you were trying to get things published all along the way. What would you say to anyone who's, feeling rejected constantly, beating their head against a wall, and not breaking through, but they love what they're doing? Well, I would say this is, like, one of the top defining scenes in my life, and it's in this book, and I tell this story at Haven as well. It's so important, everybody. this success myth that we strive for, this feeling of failure when we can't get where we wanna strive, it's a myth. Success by society's constructs is a myth, which means failure is, too. And the only thing we can control is doing the work, whatever that means to us, doing the work. And that's good news, because you can control that. The context was I was on my way to my first book signing, New York City, the Barnes Noble on I think Madison. w- I forget where, where it is, but it's on the Upper E- East Side. I was in a limo. It was, you know, like the top guns of, the bastions of New York publishing that had rejected me for years, just because of that little Modern Love essay that I'd written. The, the book This Is Not the Story You Think It Is was already written. I already had an excellent literary agent named Beth Davey, one of the tippy, tippy top. And I'm in this limo, and it was funny 'cause it was a Suburban, and it's like, really? A Suburban in Manhattan? Like, m- where I live, like, I haul horses. I need a Suburban. But not you know, in, really, in Manhattan. And we're crawling up, you know, in traffic, and it's all of these, top editors, top p- publicity people, and we're going to my first reading. And I looked out the window, and this story is in the book, and I literally saw the 16-year-old version of me And my boyfriend at the time. And I'm just going, "Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Someday I'm gonna be a famous actress," and I, 'cause that was always what I wanted to be. I was, like I said, a theater major. I found writing at the very end of college. And, I mean, I'd already always been doing it, but I never wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be an actress, and then maybe write my own films and a- be an auteur and, you know, small ego. You know, that's, the 20-year-old's, it's good when you have a big ego when you're 20 because it takes a lot of guts to matriculate into this world. and I just saw this younger version of me, me being like, Someday I'm gonna have my name in lights, and blah, blah, blah." And my poor boyfriend at the time was just sort of nodding his head. And I had this huge epiphany that here I was, finally I got that brass ring. Finally. Only it was just a little different, you know? But it was still, like, that perfection, that striving, that wanting, that societally s- deemed, y- you arrived. And I thought, "Wow, man, I don't feel anything." Like there's no there there, just like Gertrude Stein said, but she was talking about Oakland, California. But it was like I don't feel anything. I feel gratitude that this amazing team has stepped in and, supported a book that we weren't even gonna go out with because I didn't have a platform at the time. but outside of grateful and excited and nervous 'cause I'm about to go on a two-month cross-country book tour, I just like didn't feel the way I thought I would feel. there was nothing there, in terms of the success achieved. so I turned to the head of marketing for Penguin, now Penguin and Random House, like the doyenne of New York publishing, marketing and, and publicity, and I said I just had a massive epiphany. I don't really believe there's such a thing as success by society's constructs. I think personally that's different, which means I don't think there's any truth in failure- Mm by society's constructs. And the good news is I can write regardless of rejection or acceptance And that's within my control. it was just like, like 30 years of stress just, like, rolled off my shoulders. and her shoulders kinda went down 'cause I was about to go on Good Morning America and do all this stuff, and the Oprah show had called, and we said... Well, that's a longer story. But, you know, they wanted to see if I was worth it, I hadn't proven myself yet. 'Cause a lot of writers come undone on the tour because a lot of writers are n- not very extroverted. I happen to be pretty extroverted. And I like having a mic in my hand, and I like being on a stage, and I like having a good message and sharing it with people. and I said, "I hope that you tell your other authors that." And I swear, everybody in the whole limo, like, their shoulders all just dropped, like, ah, good. Grounded, honest truth. Mm. Wow. But would I have listened to that when I was 16, 17, 18, all the way... I was 45. I'll be 60 this summer. I was 45 when I had that epiphany, and I think my reaction would've been, in my younger years, good for you. you got the big advance, you got the big red carpet, so you can say that now." Yeah. But then in that moment, I finally got that thing I wanted, and there was nothing there. And I just wanna say to anyone out there that I learned that lesson because of something I achieved that would be called societal success. But I would hope that I would have learned that anyway, and if I can help anybody out there who is reaching and reaching and striving and striving for that success and getting knocked around with rejection, you just have to stop for a minute and say, "Is this worth it? Am I basing my happiness on things outside of my control?" You can do your best, and please do, but don't do it because you think that you're owed anything or that the world will reward you for it. Do it because you have to do it. Do it because you love it, even when it's a bloody risk, even when it breaks your heart. Don't let it take you down, though. Let's try to change that tortured artist paradigm or that tortured person paradigm. Your successes might be surprises along the way, and can we call it a success if we sit there looking at a butterfly, one bird? In Willa's Grove, Willa challenges, uh, that, that same character, Jane, "Why don't you go outside and try to track one bird and follow it around for as long as you can, for as long as it'll let you?" I promise you, you can find the time to do something simple, and stretch it, and really know what it is to be in the present moment, to truly be in it. And that will hold you together. Inspiring. Especially in times of rejection. Yeah, absolutely. two of the biggest things I've taken away from today are to slow down and to be in awe, which I don't think we put enough importance on. Laura, I thank you just for showing up as your wonderful self and for your writing. I'm excited to read your other two books, and I hope everyone else, will go out and do the same. I wanna give you the chance to just share about your writing workshops and what you're doing in the world, and where people can connect with you. Anything else you might wanna say So the floor is yours. Thanks, Rachel. Well, I've shared a, a bit about my other, published books and my writing retreats. you can go to lauramunson.com and learn about my online writing community. Not everybody has it, within them to get out here to Montana to do one of my Haven Writing Retreats. I lead about seven a year. and they meet you where you need to be met anywhere along your writing path. So some people who come are working on books. I've been working with them prior as their editor. I am a developmental editor. I've helped lots of people write and publish books. Anybody who promises you that they can get you published, run for the hills, because even a best-selling author can't, know for sure if her next book is going to be published. But, I give my level best to my clients, where appropriate and with good boundaries. I only work with people who come to Haven, or who are signed up for it or are alums, of which there are, over 1,000. So some people h- haven't ever written anything since, childhood, but they love it. they know that writing is their way, and they need to move their pen. Maybe they used to journal and they stopped because they would swirl in the vortex of woe. and some people have always wanted to write a book, but life took over, as it does, and they know. It's like the writing's got them by their shoulders, like, "Write me." "Wake up. You've got a book in you, and it needs to come through you." So lots of different kinds of people at lots of different places in their writing path come to Haven. If you are interested in those, I do have room on both of my September retreats this year, which is 2026, and then, also my October retreat. just a few spots on each of them. It requires getting in touch with me, laura@lauramunson.com. That's also the contact info on my website, and then we get on the phone, and we dig in, and we talk. It's an hour-long conversation. I listen to you. You get to be listened to about your writing dreams, and then we talk about how we can tailor-make the retreat for you. Because even though everybody's doing the same retreat, they're all doing it a little bit differently. It's the only retreat that I know that's led by a best-selling author who's also a professional editor and who has worked with so many people and can continue to support you long after the retreat. that said, not everybody can come to Montana, and that's why I have an, online writing community called Haven Nest, and you can learn more about that. the enrollment is closed right now, but it's going to open again. There are 72 cycles in the archives. I've been doing it for four years. They include expert calls, which are 90-minute calls with a- an incredible industry person, whether it's an author or an editor or a publisher, et cetera. each cycle also includes a lesson, uh, and they're meaty with a coinciding writing prompt. and then also the next week there is a workshop where I pick one, uh, of the submissions from the lesson prompt, and then I do a live workshop. Again, this is all in the archives, and then we also have a live, uh, social hour wherein we write once a month. So there's just, there's so much there for people, and we're trying something new. We have about, uh, just under 100 people in the community, but we're gonna, we're gonna mix it up a little bit. So I think we're gonna bring the pricing way down because we want even more interaction. the community piece is really important to me. and to writers, so you don't have to do it alone. Writing is done in solitude, but it is born out of community, and that comes straight from Terry Tempest Williams. We write in a solitude born of community. And finally, Substack, Wonderings with Laura Munson, I try to s- put one out once a week or maybe twice a week. and you can learn a whole lot more about the stuff I'm up to over there on my website. So thanks, Rachel. Thanks for giving me that. I'm trying to help. I can see that. And anybody who's a listener to Your Beautiful Unmasked: A Beyond Worthy Podcast, come on, that's a great title. I think you should write a book called Unmasked: A Beyond Worthy Book. That's coming next. Anybody who's a listener of yours would be probably a great match for the work I do. Aw, that's great. Laura, thank you again. I just appreciate you carving out your time. I know it's precious, and it's been such a joy, Thanks, Rachel. thanks to everyone out there listening. Go find Laura. It's clear that your work is amazing and in service of the world. So thanks, everyone, for being here. This is Unmasked, and we'll catch everyone next time.