Welcome to The Adverbial Life—a space for anyone curious about thriving solo, embracing independence, and savoring life on their own terms.
Inspired by my book Eating Adverbs—part memoir, part mischief, part practical guide—this reflection explores how language, especially adverbs, helps us name the invisible and live with intention.
Each section follows the rhythm of the book: TIME, DEGREE, MANNER, PLACE, and FREQUENCY. You’ll find stories, quotes, music, books, and rituals. Sometimes vulnerable. Sometimes playful. Always honest.
TIME: A Shift That Changed Everything
“I used to dine alone to reflect. Somewhere along the way, I started dining to produce. This moment reminded me how to simply dine.”
The first spark for “Eating Adverbs” came years ago, during a solo dinner that felt like a revelation. Dining alone wasn’t just a necessity—it became a ritual, a celebration, a way to listen inward. But over time, that ritual turned into routine. I started bringing my journal, my phone, my deadlines. I was dining alone, yes, but I wasn’t truly being alone.
While editing a chapter on intentional choices, I had a moment of clarity:
“Maybe I should follow my own advice.”
So I did. I went out for dinner and left everything in the car—no phone, no journal, no agenda. Just me, my wallet, and my keys.
And something shifted.
I tasted the food. I noticed the wine pairings. I chatted with the staff. I watched the room unfold around me. I was present. Fully.
It reminded me why this book matters. Why solo experiences, when lived intentionally, can be transformative.
What’s one solo moment you’ve had recently that reminded you to slow down and be present?
DEGREE: Writing With Your Whole Heart
“This book isn’t just something I’m creating. It’s something that’s creating me.”
There’s a moment I keep returning to. I was deep in edits, wrestling with a chapter that felt too vulnerable, too exposed. I kept asking myself: Is this too much? Too personal? Too raw?
And then I realized: That’s exactly why it belongs.
This book isn’t just a collection of stories. It’s a mirror. And sometimes, mirrors show us things we’d rather not see.
But I kept going. I wrote through the discomfort. I let the words land where they needed to. And when I read that chapter back, I didn’t flinch. I felt proud. Not because it was perfect, but because it was honest.
“Eating Adverbs” is teaching me to write not just with skill, but with soul. To show up entirely.
When was the last time you showed up fully—for something creative, emotional, or spiritual? What did it reveal about your own grit or vulnerability?
MANNER: Joyfully, Loudly, Alone
“I’m not alone—I’m in excellent company.”
I’ve created a playlist on Spotify called “Songs That Make Me Feel Good“. I sing along: loudly, shamelessly, sometimes off-key but always joyfully. Especially in the car, where the acoustics are forgiving and the audience is nonexistent.
I don’t dance (grudgingly, occasionally, never publicly), but I do sing: passionately, dramatically, and unapologetically. Solo living means I get to soundtrack my life exactly how I want. No vetoes. No interruptions. Just me, harmonizing with the universe… or at least with Brandi Carlile.
Tips for Thriving Solo (Musical Edition):
- Create a playlist that makes you feel like the main character.
- Sing out loud—even if it’s just to your toaster.
- Assign theme songs to your daily rituals: coffee, emails, laundry.
- Bonus points if you narrate your life like a musical.
- No audience required. Just joy.
PLACE: The Rolltop Revolution
“Where intention goes, energy flows.”
For most of the time I was writing this book, my computer lived on a table in the living room—a space that had quietly morphed into an all-purpose zone: writing, eating, watching videos, reading, scrolling. It was convenient, habitual, and energetically… muddled. The rest of my apartment became “just space”—unused, uninviting, unconsidered.
And here’s the kicker: I used to be a Feng Shui consultant. I know better. I know how space holds energy, how function and flow matter. But even with that knowledge, I’d slipped into a kind of spatial autopilot.
Then came the epiphany. I moved my computer into my home office, onto my rolltop desk—a piece I love but had let gather dust. I cleaned up the living room. And everything changed.
Suddenly, I had no easy place to eat dinner in front of a screen. So I started setting the table in my kitchen again, using my china, sterling silver, and crystal. I reclaimed the living room for reading. I reclaimed the desk for writing and work. This gentle compartmentalization—this honoring of space—made me feel lighter, more focused, more alive.
It also revealed the clutter I’d been ignoring. I’m re-reading “Beyond Tidy” and “The Joy of Less”, and the paradigm shift is real. My writing is sharper. My editing is faster. My home feels like a partner in the creative process, not a passive backdrop.
Rearranging one thing can shift everything. What corner of your space is asking to be reclaimed?
FREQUENCY: Tuning In
Creativity isn’t always a lightning bolt. It’s often a quiet hum. A rhythm. A return. These are the frequencies I’ve been tuning into lately, and they’ve kept me grounded, inspired, and surprisingly productive.
Song on repeat: “Broken Angels” by Over the Rhine. Yes, it’s melancholy. But it’s also hauntingly beautiful and evocative in a way that leaves me feeling strangely uplifted. There’s hope tucked inside the sadness, and that duality speaks to me.
Book I keep returning to: “Move Your Stuff, Change Your Life” by Karen Rauch Carter. One of my favorite Feng Shui texts. As I’ve reshuffled the activities in my home, I’ve been revisiting all that long-dormant knowledge and wow, it’s revolutionizing my space and my energy. Whether you’re new to Feng Shui or just need a refresher, this book is a gem.
Grounding ritual: Rejoining the “4 A.M. Club.” I’m reviving an old rhythm: wake at 4, morning yoga, meditation, an hour of writing, a proper breakfast (yes, with actual silverware), then off to work but with a bonus half-hour of book time before I leave. It’s early, yes. But it’s sacred. And it’s working.
What rhythm is keeping you grounded right now? A song, a book, a ritual? Let it hum.
YOUR TURN: Living Adverbially
Living an adverbial life means noticing how we move through the world—not just what we do, but how we do it.
Quietly. Boldly. Joyfully.
This space is for naming those moments and honoring their power.
Explore more reflections, meet the avatars, or dive into the book. Your adverbial life is already unfolding.
