2026: THE WILEY WEEKLY NEWSLETTER ARCHIVE
Since I first launched Wiley Canning Company in July 2020, I’ve written a weekly newsletter. It celebrates our accomplishments each week, previews what’s to come, and shares company announcements.
Nearly one year into writing this newsletter, I created a segment called, Thin Slices. It has become my favorite way to connect with you.
Thin Slices, named after one of my all-time favorite articles by Cup of Jo, intends to highlight fleeting moments, or thin slices, of joy, patience, heartache, and more that grow our hearts and minds. It is personal at times, witty at times, and simple it times. It is always written openly and honestly.
An archive of Thin Slices is below. It is organized by date and ordered from our newest newsletter to our oldest. It is updated weekly for you to read and enjoy.
Jump in below!
Week of January 18, 2026:
I’m currently reading All The Way To The River by Elizabeth Gilbert, an honest, effusive, gut-wrenching, and full-hearted memoir about her friendship and romantic partnership with Rayya Elias. It’s hard to admit that I love any book about loss. And yet, I have been a devoted Elizabeth Gilbert reader since first encountering Big Magic years ago, and it is true to say that I love this book.
Elizabeth Gilbert’s writing style is one I relate to deeply (as does much of the world, given that she is a best-selling author). She is descriptive, smart, funny, and profoundly human.
One aspect of All The Way To The River that I’m particularly enjoying is her use of new-to-me vocabulary—words like loquacious—as well as acronyms I suspect I will now carry with me indefinitely, such as PAUSE.
The acronym PAUSE is especially resonant to me. It stands for: Perhaps another unseen solution exists.
In this moment of the memoir, Gilbert is reflecting on what she describes as “the God of her own understanding,” as well as others’ understandings of a power beyond themselves. She writes about the idea that some people encounter this power not in certainty or urgency, but in the pause itself—in the quiet moment when another possibility becomes imaginable.
This feels like a powerful reminder that we all possess an internal voice worthy of trust. And often, it isn’t until we slow down—until we get quiet—that we are able to hear it. When we do, it can guide us in ways that feel both new and enriching.
This week, I wish you thin slices of quiet.
Week of January 11, 2026:
Happy New Year!
I feel a profound sense of purpose as we begin a new year: to be clear.
Clear-minded.
Clear-hearted.
I write often about the delicate coexistence of motherhood and entrepreneurship. Clarity requires space. Clarity, and all of its successors, such as creativity, discernment, and momentum, thus require space.
Motherhood fills this space ferociously. My work, as an entrepreneurial mother, is to live in relation to this tension.
I fell short on my goals in 2025 for Wiley Canning Company. The way I have made peace with this is by, one, recognizing honestly that I did the very best I could, and two, honoring what did happen. Yet, now, I know better. To create more space in my day, I must make fundamental changes to my schedule and lifestyle. It’s only January 11, so once I have practiced these changes for a greater period of time, I will share them with you. The changes are few, but they are significant.
This year, I will be clear.
This week, I wish you thin slices of clarity.