Happy 6th birthday, Can we read! 🎂
Have you ever noticed there are six strawberries on the birthday cake emoji?
Can we read? is six…
…and I don’t really know how, except that I have shown up to this screen for the last 312 weeks, and of course, not just the times you can see, when I’ve published posts, which I used to do twice (!), but all the times you cannot, when I am planning and researching and writing, and taking photos and editing and writing, and responding to comments and emails and writing and writing and writing.
I have always said that my measure of success for this project has been whether or not I’m having fun, and I have lived by that metric in making decisions — including during events and times of my life when continuing to crank this thing out has been a heavier lift than I needed. (At this point, I have been through so much that even I am not interested in listing it all.)
But I find, when I stop to think about it instead of just barreling ahead with the work to be done, that my ideas about success have shifted, as well as how I measure it. This is no longer much fun for me — at least not in the way it used to be. I have a lesser sense of community than I once did, when Substack was a different place and platform. As my audience has grown — 7,555 of you, the day I am writing this, a week ahead of publishing — I feel much more exposed. And I find that it takes more from me to respond, to reach back when people reach out.
This is, no doubt, a reflection of this time of my life, when I am letting go of so much, almost everything, really. (That’s not to be purposely mysterious — I am working on a mini issue that I’ll publish in a few weeks about what I’m going through, because if there is one thing I hope I know how to do, it’s to turn my own experiences into something useful for others.)
Once again, I am writing this newsletter from my hotel room on a business trip for my actual job, and while I don’t think of it as work, necessarily, it’s not not work, as we say now (grammar be damned forever, because “not not” charms me, I don’t know why). The sacrifices involved are weird and invisible.
But: I still love reading and writing about children’s books.
And I still love serving people — you people — which is what I really believe I am doing here. A few days ago, when I was lamenting spending money on this newsletter that I really did not want to spend, my husband said, in support, “You’re doing good.” Not as in, you’re doing well, but you are doing good. Maybe I missed that all along because I have been busy for the last six years amusing myself, but if nothing else, I pray that is true.
I know you can get children’s book reviews — and advice and ideas and opinions — somewhere else. I know every subscription, paid or free, is a choice. I know even your eyeballs on a screen is a kind of investment (and if you don’t see it that way, maybe consider just how much your attention is worth, and what you’re spending it on).
So thank you for being here and for continuing to support this work. If I were just doing this for myself, I wouldn’t be doing it anymore. You give back to me in ways you may not see or ever even consider, and I’m more grateful than ever.
A quick look back
Here are some of the most popular issues since last May:
What books are you and your kids really enjoying right now? October (These posts are your favorite by far, and increasingly, mine too)
Other news
After 18 months of trying to get my book based on this newsletter published, without success — yet — I’ve decided not to pursue it any further for the moment.
(See: this time of my life where I am letting go of so much.)
But it’s also a strategic decision. One of my best friends recently wrote to me, “Only do things that add to your energy right now — everything else can wait, especially stuff that drains,” and I thought, wow, I can just… live like that.
I’m not giving up. But I need to think about what I want, and what matters to me, and where to invest my resources. It takes time and energy to think about my time and energy.
Which leads me to the decision not to do the giveaway I have done annually on this newsletter’s birthday — bigger every year, in dollar value and effort expended. It’s not because I don’t want to, it’s just too much for me right now, in more ways than one.
Thank you for being here, for reading, and for your ongoing enthusiasm for this newsletter. Your support and kindness mean so much to me.
With much gratitude and love 💕
Sarah



Sarah, I just wanted to say how much I look forward to your posts every week. There’s something about the way you write that feels both grounding and deeply human. Sort of like sitting down with a thoughtful friend for a conversation. Your posts always leave me feeling a little calmer, wiser, and more seen. Thank you for continuing to share your heart and perspective here. I, too, believe you are doing good!
Having known you since those earlier days on Substack, I continue to be impressed by your dedication to this newsletter and to your readers. The growth you've seen and the interaction/support you receive is directly correlated to the true service you provide.
At times, I feel like I'm swimming in a large vat of quicksand while trying to navigate work and life shifts that tug and pull at my desire to create and chronicle life around me. The number of transitions — some good, others decidedly not — that we go through as humans on a day-to-day basis is staggering when you reflect on it.
And then I look at colleagues like you, figuring out a way to push through it all while evolving to meet those shifts and transitions, and I can't help but be inspired. So, happy birthday, and thank you.