10 Simple Hacks I Rely on Daily to Make Life Simpler, Easier and (Slightly More) Fulfilling
Because when your “O” and “I” keys are sticking, your hormones are on a rollercoaster and you're building an empire from your childhood bedroom, the little things are everything.
Oh hi! I saw a little bump after my recent post about things I’ve done differently after 45 that have made all the difference, so if you’re new—thank you and welcome. Around here, I write about midlife reinvention, life after childlessness, perimenopause (ah, so that’s what that is), creativity, travel, seasonal style, and being a slightly obsessive dog mom to one very opinionated Aussiedoodle. I try to share the hard-won stuff—what’s working, what’s definitely not and how we keep going (preferably with an iced coffee and a croissant in hand.) There’s a new post today I hope you’ll like, and more subscriber perks are coming soon. For now, I’m just really glad you’re here.
I don't pretend to have it all figured out. Most mornings, I wake up already behind—emails unanswered, deadlines lurking, a dog staring into my soul. I’m in a weird phase of life: trying to resurrect a writing career, build an editorial business, manage hormones, finances, grief, author ambitions and a 2.5-year-old Aussiedoodle who needs two walks a day and has very specific preferences about peanut butter.
So no—these aren’t “optimize your morning with lemon water and a three-mile jog” tips. They’re the things I cling to when my laptop is lagging, my brain is fogging (thank you, perimenopause, you’re the gift that keeps on giving!) and I still need to make something beautiful out of the day. These are my hacks. They're not revolutionary, but they help. And sometimes, that’s enough.
1. I give myself a soft start (but a hard finish.)
I used to beat myself up for not diving into my day at 6:00 a.m. like some Wall Street bro with a red light alarm clock and a cold plunge tank. Now, I let myself write emails, sip coffee slowly, maybe even scroll a little—as long as I finish strong. A hard stop goal (like “3 stories by 4 p.m.”) works better for my rhythm than a strict start time.
2. I write better with a Breton shirt and red lipstick on.
Call it costume energy. If I’m in pajama pants, I’ll write like I’m in pajama pants. But if I put on something a little crisp and French—and swipe on some tinted lipgloss—I feel more like myself. Not the tired version, but the version with a spark.
3. I walk my dog without headphones at least once a day.
Even if I’ve already walked her once, I do a second, shorter walk with no podcast, no music, no multitasking. That’s when I get my real ideas. It’s also when I feel most in my body, instead of hovering above it trying to solve 900 things at once.
4. I say no to everyone between 5–7 p.m.
This is my danger zone: dog needs walking, mom might need something, inbox is trying to resurrect itself, an alluring “our most viral sweater just restocked” text from Quince. So I don’t schedule calls. I don’t answer texts. I go off-grid. It’s just me, Winty and dinner.
5. I schedule “golden hour” writing blocks.
This is the 90-minute block (usually 10:30–12) when my brain is sharpest. I put one single task in that time slot: headline writing, Substack drafting, whatever needs my creative best. No meetings. No Slack. Just me and the work that matters.
6. I drink the fancy cold brew like I’m at La Colombe.
Daily ritual > dopamine hit. If the day’s going to be hard, the beverage better be special. I pour it into a real glass with ice and almond milk and cinnamon and pretend I'm back in 2010s New York City for just a split second—all the high hopes of IG’s early days, none of the Slack pings. It works 40% of the time.
7. I meal plan like a French woman who owns three bowls.
Simple, seasonal, repeatable. Buckwheat noodles, smoked salmon, cottage cheese, roasted tomatoes. Food that feels like it’s the main character, not the sidekick. It makes me feel like I’m taking care of someone (me.)
8. I close my browser tabs like it’s a 1980s arcade game.
When I’m overwhelmed, it’s usually not the work—it’s the 24 open tabs (many with video ads autoplaying) sucking my energy in the background. Now, I start fresh every morning. If a tab hasn’t earned its spot, it doesn’t come with me.
9. I let myself stop after one thing.
If I do one thing—just one—that truly moved something forward (a pitch, a Substack post, a calendar plan), I let myself call the day a win. Especially on foggy brain days. Especially the week before my period. Especially now.
10. I remind myself I am the algorithm.
When I start spiraling (why didn’t my story hit? why are other writers getting pops and I’m not?), I remind myself: my job isn’t to chase the algorithm. My job is to be the thing someone out there needs to read today. And that starts with telling the truth.
What About You?
Would love to know: what are your hacks right now? What’s getting you through this weird, transitional, way-too-much season of life? Hit reply or drop it in the comments. I’m always collecting new ones.