Maribeth Barber Albritton

(*walks back in after many long months, wistfully setting upright the fallen dusty chairs*)

This blog was my writing haven for so long. It’s hard to believe there was a time when I posted here every single week, without fail. This was where I kept a record of my novel’s progress, shared the ups-and-downs of life as a single woman, wrote profusely on my love for Star Wars, Star Trek, and Doctor Who.

It was a good run. And now it’s time to move on.

Since I last posted in…(*checks notes*)…July 2023, a lot has happened. Namely, I’m now a mama! After a long, painful third trimester, Molly Elizabeth was born right after Thanksgiving. Her first 9 weeks of life were a struggle due to her severe oral ties, but despite her hunger and pain, she never failed to grace me and Casey with the sweetest smiles we’ve ever seen. Now she’s a chubby-cheeked, happy 5-month-old with sparkly blue eyes and a deep love for teething toys, dog grooming videos, and Celtic Woman.

Motherhood suits me well, I think, though it’s been harder than I ever expected. No one tells the oldest daughter of a large family that raising your own child is a lot tougher than herding siblings. I’m only 5 months in (or 14 months in, if you count pregnancy), and already the Lord is bringing me to the end of myself. I’ve had to reckon with the truth that I am not self-sufficient, I don’t have this under control, and I am not Superwoman.

There’s a deep freedom in saying that, actually. I’ve spent the better part of 32 years trying to be perfect, poised, demure, ultra-respectable, responsible, dependable, and always, always hard-working. In other words, Superwoman.

But I’m tired. And in my weariness, I’m finally learning who I really am.

I’m a sinner saved by grace. Through all the hardships of the last few months, I have somehow never doubted God’s goodness towards me–and that is a testament to His power in my life, not the strength of my faith.

I’m a beloved and empowered wife, utterly cherished beyond my wildest dreams by a good man who wants me to be myself and who is also my best, best, best friend.

I’m a mother who loves her baby so deeply, I am working to purge my brain of so many unrealistic, legalistic expectations of mothers (and parents in general).

And at the end of the day, I’m also just…Maribeth. A 32-year-old woman who still loves Star Wars and Star Trek and Doctor Who, but also Outlander and The Office and Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour and Ori and the Blind Forest. A young homemaker who’s never had a chance to discover what her personal aesthetic actually is, but really wants to find out. A storyteller who’s learning how to write for herself again, without shame or inhibition.

Two things can be true at the same time: I’m not the same person I was when I started this blog, but I’m still the same person I was when I started this blog. This weird inner conflict reminds me that I still want to write and share my thoughts…but I do need a new space.

So…I’m starting my own Substack!

I’m not charging anything for subscriptions right now. That seems rather presumptuous when I haven’t even been consistent with this blog for so long, haha. But now that my daily routine finally includes writing time again, I’m far more likely to be consistent. Even the name of my Substack, Letters from Crickhollow, is motivating me to weave words together again.

And what will I write on this Substack? Well, that leads into another reason why I’m moving away from this blog: I’m weary of writing movie/book/TV/music reviews. I’m tired of wondering if I’m going to be judged for watching, reading, or listening to this or that thing, no matter how many caveats I post. And I no longer have time for the amount of work and research that goes into reviewing something.

So instead, I’m going to focus on creating “a newsletter for women who are cultivators of beauty, grace, and honesty, no matter what season they’re in or how raw and messy their lives may be.”

Letters from Crickhollow…will be a place where I can explore all these things and more, with the hopes that 1) I can encourage other women, no matter their age or season, in their own pursuit of God’s will for their lives, and 2) I can learn how to write again about the things I’m passionate about. My writing, once one of the great joys of my life, dried up after I published my novel. But like the coming of spring, I can feel my creativity coming back to life. And oh, that’s a wonderful feeling.

from the About Page of “Letters from Crickhollow”

What Letters from Crickhollow will NOT be:

• Political commentary
• Culture commentary
• Judgy, catty, or cynical

If this sounds like something you’d be interested in reading, I’d love for you to follow me there! I’m really excited about it.

And so…without further ado, I shall close this blog. I briefly (but seriously) thought about wiping it out and deleting everything, but my husband protested so strongly that I stopped myself. “You put so much work into this,” he insisted. “It would be tragic if you deleted it.”

So it’ll remain as an archive for me to look back on with great fondness, and maybe I’ll repurpose a few articles one day on Substack. But all chapters must end, and this one has come to a close.

Goodbye, dear old blog. And thank you, all of my readers, for faithfully reading A Writer’s Tale for so long. I’m really grateful for you.