Short over clever.
If it doesn't fit on the back of an index card, it's not ready to send yet.
About the studio
Cheryl Inspires started in 2019, in a spare room in Midland, with a wobbly desk and one email subscriber (my mom). It's grown up since — but the intention hasn't. Everything here is written by hand first, in a notebook, before it becomes anything else.
The short version
I named the studio after my grandmother, Cheryl, who kept a spiral notebook by her toaster for forty-one years. Every morning she'd write down one line about the day ahead and one line about the day before. That was it. No app, no system, no productivity guru.
When she passed, we found seventeen of those notebooks in a shoebox in the hall closet. I read them for a week straight. Then I quit my corporate marketing job in Midland and started writing letters to strangers on the internet about paying attention to their own lives.
Six years later, that's still the whole business.
A little history
Started a personal Substack from my kitchen table. Wrote 14 letters before anyone I didn't know subscribed.
Made a 24-page PDF for readers stuck at home. It quietly sold 900 copies and paid my rent that summer.
Eight women on a Zoom call for four Sundays in a row. Six of them still write to me.
Rented a small room off South Street in Midland with a real door and a real window. It changed everything.
Still writing every letter by hand first. Still keeping the list small on purpose.
How I write
If it doesn't fit on the back of an index card, it's not ready to send yet.
"Tuesday at 4:17" beats "sometime this week." Every single time.
I'd rather be a soft place to land than a smart one.
I have never chased a trend and I don't intend to start.
The Sunday letter goes out at 8 a.m. Central. It's short, it's honest, and it's free.