I Tried to Relaunch My Newsletter--and my Cat(s) Took Over

I had a strategy. Newbery had paws.

Welcome back to Alchemy of Meow!

I originally launched this newsletter under a pen name with a grand plan.

Then I took a one—or was it two?—month break, realized I was overcomplicating everything, and decided to just use my real name.

Hi. I’m Cherryl.

Behind the scenes, I was working on a deeper writing project and got creatively singed around the edges. I thought about writing a big “we’re back” essay explaining where I’ve been and what I’ve learned about productivity, trauma, healing, and the dangers of turning every life transition into a twelve-part content strategy.

But the cats informed me that my aura was rumpled, my branding was off, and nobody cares about my human agenda.

They insisted on doing the introductions themselves.

Since they never concede, I did.

Over the next few weeks, the Fulsome Foursome will be introducing themselves on their own terms.

First up is the pocket panther who runs this house:

Newbery.

Paws & Reflect

Dear Humans,

I wasn’t always a writer.

I began life on the streets of San Jose, unnamed and unloved, until I was plucked from fate’s linty pocket and deposited into a cage with a respiratory infection and a whole lot of attitude.

Some might say I whacked my future dad in the face to get adopted.

I call it editorial influence.

What I did not do was hustle my way to a new home. I did not visualize. I did not journal. I did not optimize my rescue funnel.

I simply aligned myself with who I was.

Small. Black. Opinionated. Extremely adoptable to those with taste.

And sure enough, the right humans showed up.

The fools.

They were so besotted, they took me home straightaway. The first thing they did was toss out the shelter name someone had slapped on me.

Violet.

I mean, honestly.

They bestowed upon me the name Newbery, after a literary award.

No pressure.

(Note: Only one “r,” thank you. Autocorrect has tried to sabotage my legacy, but I remain undiminished.)

These days, I am the household’s Lap-Seeking Evangelist, the Gratitude Queen, and, I would argue, the spiritual anchor of this entire operation.

The purebreds may act like they descended from royalty, but let’s be honest.

When the kibble hits the bowl, who weaves between legs in gratitude?

Who sings the song of her people in three-part meows?

Who risks broccoli ingestion just to prove a point?

This girl.

Let me tell you what we’ll be doing here at Alchemy of Meow.

At semi-regular intervals, one of us cats—or two, or three, or four, depending on who has seized the editorial throne—will deliver cosmic insights, emotional commentary, or really solid advice on surviving the human condition with flair.

Some of it will be funny.

Some of it will be profound.

All of it will be at least slightly fur-covered.

Today’s meow-nifestation mantra is this:

You can start aloof, but don’t forget to purr when the moment is right.

It is okay if you are still warming up to joy.

It is okay if you do not trust it yet.

Take your time.

But when the warmth comes, curl into it like it is your birthright.

It probably is.

Paw-sitively yours,
Newbery
Lap Evangelist
Gratitude Queen
Worrier Warrior