A Book Winner, Mailbox Magic and a Peek Behind the Page

Bi-Weekly Newsletter from Author Lori Soard

Hey y’all!

I hope this note finds you with a good cup of something warm, a quiet corner and maybe a few minutes to breathe before the next thing asks for your attention. It’s been nonstop raining here in Southern Indiana for about 10 days straight. Although everything is a brilliant green, it is soggy. I am a person who enjoys sunshine, so I’m looking forward to a break in this weather. If it doesn’t stop soon, I may have to build an ark.

First, I have a fun announcement.

The winner of the Mildred Wiggins book giveaway is Susan Holcomb! The book releases on July 6th, so watch for an email with the prize attached.

Congratulations, Susan. I hope Mildred, her small-town sleuthing and Sir Alphonse Beauregard Clucksworth III bring you plenty of smiles. Thank you to everyone who entered. I always love seeing readers get excited about my fictional worlds, especially when those worlds include opinionated roosters, suspicious neighbors and the kind of small-town secrets that never stay buried for long. I so appreciate every word of encouragement you send my way. It means the world to me!

Speaking of stories that arrive with a little extra charm, I also wanted to remind you about Mailbox Monologues.

This project has become such a bright spot for me creatively. The idea is simple but delightful: stories delivered in a way that feels slower, richer and more personal than another message flashing across a screen. Think letters, clues, keepsake-style inserts and stories you can experience one envelope at a time.

I’m currently offering two story worlds for Mailbox Monologues: one tied to Mildred Wiggins and her cozy small-town mysteries, and another with a more romantic, enchanted feel. The first lineup in that series is inspired by my favorite fairy tale, Beauty and the Beast. Of course, I have quite the twist to the tale, though. My hope is to create something that feels like opening a secret door in your mailbox. A little escape. A little mystery. A little beauty tucked between the bills and grocery ads.

I’ll be sharing more details soon, but for now, you can expect stories that feel collectible, cozy and just a bit magical in the old-fashioned sense of wonder.

On the life front, things here have been full and a little scattered, which probably describes most writers’ lives if we’re being honest. I’ve been juggling writing projects, family, deadlines, ideas that show up at inconvenient times and the ordinary little tasks that somehow multiply when you turn your back.

But in the middle of all that, I keep coming back to the same truth: stories matter. The stories we share with our cherished friends, the bedtime tales told to a grandchild, the family memories wrapped in storytelling, and the shared moments on social media or spoken over breakfast with a good friend.

Sometimes writing looks romantic from the outside. A desk. A candle. A perfect sentence appearing as if it floated down from heaven on a feather.

In real life, it often looks more like reheated food, scribbled notes, laundry buzzing in the background and a character refusing to behave or refusing to leave me alone until I tell her story (Mildred, I’m pointing at you).

And yet, that is part of what I love about it. I had almost forgotten how writing changes who I am in the world. How it resonates in my soul. I made some tough decisions recently about things taking up a lot of my time and the next day I had at least 11 good ideas I had to jot down or record into my notes on my phone. I would no sooner tell Siri to take a note than another idea would drop into my brain.

Writing lets me gather all the small things: the front porch conversations, the funny church-lady comments, the back-road memories, the tender moments, the grief, the laughter, the strange little details people miss when they’re moving too fast. Then I get to tuck them into stories and offer them back to readers in a way that says, “Look. There’s still beauty here.”

That’s the kind of writer I want to be.

I want to write stories that feel like coming home. Stories with faith, humor, hope and people who are still learning how to forgive, love bravely and notice grace in ordinary places. I want to touch your hearts, make you feel better about a tough situation, and let you know you aren’t alone in this big, crazy, achingly beautiful world.

Thank you for being here with me as I build these worlds one page, one letter and one slightly suspicious rooster at a time.

Until next time,

Lori

P.S. If you’re excited about Mailbox Monologues, keep an eye out. I’m trying to figure out how to offer these to my international readers in a way that makes sense for them and me and is affordable. I’ve asked for some additional feedback from some dear readers and am hoping to figure out the best method.

P.P.S. I head to my happy place soon with my little grandgirl, so stay tuned for photos and updates.

P.P.P.S. I love you all. God adores you. The very hairs on your hairs on your head are numbered. He watches over the sparrow, so I know He watches over each of you and me.