More or Less

Julie McGue

Julie McGue

Author

I tend to channel surf while I’m driving my SUV, whether it’s an errand run or a long-distance drive. Sometimes I listen to news or talk radio; other times, depending on my mood, I choose country, pop or smooth jazz. On a recent cross-town trip, I landed on my favorite country station just as the hosts were debating what they wanted more or less of in their lives. The topic stuck with me — not the hosts’ opinions specifically or the callers’ hot takes—but my own quiet search for answers to the question.

What would I like more or less of in life?

As I toyed with my own responses, my mind wandered to all the usual buckets: time, health, family, money, politics, the environment, day-to-day routines, and long-term dreams. The more I thought about it, the more it struck me that this question touches both the trivial and the profound. Our lives—whether shaped by grocery lists or grand ambitions—are essentially defined by what we’re chasing and what we’re trimming. 

On a practical level, I want more time. Time to invest in my current writing projects and favorite hobbies like tennis, hiking, kayaking and photography. I want more special moments with friends and family. A weekend every few months at my daughters’ homes isn’t enough time to spend with my grandsons, who are growing and changing every day. The older I get, the more convinced I am that time is the one currency we can never earn back, no matter the exchange rate. 

More adventure also calls my name—travel, exploration, learning something new, even if it’s just how to use my phone’s camera settings correctly. And I crave more transparency and ease in relationships, fewer misunderstandings, and more shared laughter. I’d like more chances to dawdle with loved ones after a tasty home-cooked meal or to linger after tennis and chat with my foursome about more than the best shots of the day. Yes, I’d like more memories like that, the kind that glow long after each moment passes. 

As for less? I’d happily subtract contentious political discourse, economic angst and climate concerns from my daily life. My “snowbird” months in Florida have shown me firsthand how merciless Mother Nature can be when she’s in a mood. Evacuating the state between recent back-to-back hurricanes that devastated Florida’s Gulf Coast is a worry I’d rather not face each fall.

I’d also love less screen time. Technology is a double-edged sword: it connects us and isolates us in the same breath. I worry about my growing digital dependency—what it does to my eyes, my memory, and my ability to sit in silence for more than thirty seconds. I’d welcome fewer pings and notifications, and more good old-fashioned, face-to-face interactions—eye contact not mediated by a camera lens. 

On a more sentimental and admittedly whimsical level, I’d love the opportunity to revisit forgotten memories, like the kind in an old diary, or a half-forgotten story retold by my 92-year-old mother. I wonder what it would it be like to press rewind on my lived experiences and what additional perceptions I could draw from those moments. 

So too, I want more of the simple joys: skipping stones at dusk with my husband, scouring the lake shore for beach glass, cuddling my four children when they were small. I’d welcome more daily interactions with my grandsons—ages seven to one year old—who now live in three different states. The older I get, the more the simplest pleasures feel like life’s grandest ones. 

In crafting my “more or less” list, I recognized where my heart naturally drifts these days, what I prioritize, where I spend emotional energy, and how my desires have shifted with time. The exercise turned into a mirror: a way to see not just how I live, but why. 

Taking inventory forced me toward intentionality, aligning more closely to the things I claim to care about. Wanting more time for special hobbies means I must be deliberate in adding those to my schedule. Wanting less screen time means I ought to draw better digital boundaries. Wanting deeper connections means picking up the phone to call a friend or even writing a letter—the kind you stamp!

As I looked back over my “more or less” list, I also noticed a pattern. Every “more” had to do with connection, and every “less” was about removing the obstacles to achieve that. As I reflected deeply, it dawned on me that nearly everything I crave more or less of can be distilled down to one word: love. 

Not the storybook, sentimental kind, but love as an act of attention. Love in how I listen, how I treat the planet, how I show up for others. What if love isn’t the answer we readily dismiss because it feels too idealistic, but is actually the most practical one? What if making choices rooted in love—whether in relationships, communities, or society at large—really is the fast track to balance, kindness, and fulfillment?  

The concept of love as the foundation of all meaningful change isn’t new wisdom, but it’s astonishing how often we forget it. Could focusing on love actually grant us the “more” we seek while eliminating the “less” we dread?

Perhaps that’s the real answer to the call-in question—not more or less of anything, but more love in everything. 

Follow Me Here

April 20, from 6-7:30 PM ET, I will be at the New Buffalo Township Library in New Buffalo, Michigan conducting a workshop on how to write compelling memoir. (This is a rescheduled event.) 

June 20, I look forward to connecting with fellow local authors at the Chicago Writer’s Association conference in downtown Chicago. This year’s event will be held at The Steppenwolf Theatre. 

June 25-28, I will attend the American Library Association (ALA) conference and exhibition at Chicago’s McCormick Place. I will be signing books at the IBPA booth, details to follow.

July 16-19, I plan on attending the Understory Writer’s Conference again in Park City, Utah. 

Aug. 15, DJ and Lulu Go to the Car Wash—the next book in my children’s literature series, Let’s Go With Lulu—will be published by Muse Literary.  And I pleased to announce that book three is already in the works. 

October 9-11, Next Fall, I will attend the She Writes Press author retreat at the Westin Rancho Mirage Resort in Palm Springs, CA with keynote addresses from Christina Baker Kline, Gina Frangello, and Piper Kerman. Thrilled to be selected as a panelist for the panel, “Marketing for Memoirists.”

The audiobook for Twice the Family, A Memoir of Love, Loss, and Sisterhood released on Audible (ACX) on February 4th. It’s also available on SpotifyStory Tel, Audiobooksnow, hoopla, CHIRP, and KOBO

Follow Julie by visiting her website, subscribe to her bimonthly newsletters, and listen to previous podcast recordings where she discusses topics like adoption, identity, family relationships, sisterhood and belonging.

“Perhaps that’s the real answer to the call-in question—not more or less of anything, but more love in everything.”

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