We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Judy Lane Boyer. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Judy below.

Alright, Judy thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. We’d love to hear the backstory behind a risk you’ve taken – whether big or small, walk us through what it was like and how it ultimately turned out.

It’s hard to quantify risk past a certain point. What are the criteria for measuring the risk of a life decision? Plus, what may look like a terrific risk from one viewpoint may, from another, seem like a surefire bet.

I’ll take the perspective of how I felt before making certain decisions: I can think of three I’ve made that felt fraught, scary, like jumping off a cliff in the moment. In retrospect, though, maybe they weren’t as risky as I thought. Two overlap, so I’ll cover both in a single story.

One of the biggest risks I’ve taken is leaving the church I grew up in. My parents had grown up in it too, and both sets of grandparents had been in it since their early marriages. My friendships growing up were generational: my parents and many of my friends’ parents had grown up together. Our grandparents had raised their families together. Congregations across the US, in Latin America, and Canada connected via large church camps and weddings to which all church members, no matter where they lived, were always invited. Weddings with 200-400 guests were normal, with up to 600 not unheard of.

In many ways, the church did not differ from many fundamental, conservative churches in America: couples were encouraged to marry young, with the husband providing income and the wife staying home to raise the children. Men learning a trade rather than a profession was emphasized. Some boys did go to college, but women were discouraged from doing so. One woman I knew who did was held up as an example: “See? She’s middle-aged, she can’t find a husband, and she’s always depressed.”

Homeschool was popular, though not required. There was a strong focus on women’s grooming and modesty–no makeup or earrings, long skirts, high necklines, no cutting or styling the hair. Sports (except for what we played in the church’s gym), TV, movies, music from Elvis later, and amusement parks were preached against.

Two differences made us unique: 1) the refusal to incorporate and take a name, and 2) the belief that having friendships outside the church, even with other Christians, was unspiritual. We were so insular, in fact, that we didn’t even do mission work or volunteer in our communities.

If that sounds repressive, it was. Still, I remember many fun times. We’d travel to other states or countries for church camps, weddings, or to visit friends. It was cheap; we stayed with people we knew wherever we went. My family are all bibliophiles (in fact my grandmother owned a bookstore), so I learned to read early and grew up on Grimm’s Fairy Tales, Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, and Sherlock Holmes. We roller skated (yes, girls in long skirts!), rode bicycles, engaged in imaginative play, learned to cook wonderful meals and desserts, and played board and table games (opinions were divided over video games).

This church was more than my community. It was my entire social life, my family, in many ways, my world. So how did I find myself wandering out in the snow in upstate New York in January 2017, miles from home in Texas, stepping out in faith to leave it behind?

Let me back up. As a female with ADHD, I’ve always been different. While I had friends at the church, I was seen as eccentric by those who loved me and weird by others. I certainly didn’t fit the meek, modest ideal wife stereotype at the church. Most of my friends married and moved away in my late teens and early twenties. Though I had a boyfriend or two, it didn’t happen for me.
I found myself in my late twenties living at home with a job that felt like a burden. I had never been prepared mentally or emotionally to think of having a career–for women, jobs were something to do while you were single to take care of yourself.

I saved enough money to buy a house. Soon after, my fluency in Spanish landed me a job as a US DOJ linguist. This afforded me more comfort as a single person. It also gave me opportunities for travel, although as a woman, I was discouraged from traveling on my own to places where our church did not have a congregation. Yet while I enjoyed the linguistic side of the job, other aspects of it wore on me, but without a college degree, I could not find a job with similar pay and benefits.

In 2013, I made two decisions that would forever change my life. One, I decided to get my associate’s degree from the local community college with an eye to eventually transferring to a four-year university. Two, I took a vacation trip to Oxford, England, to attend a conference of scholars and creative minds on two of my favorite authors: C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. By this time, I was in my late 30s.

Those two things led me to begin questioning my church.
The conference was faith-based, so it was my first time to socialize with Christians of different denominations, from Catholic to Baptist. I had been taught that Christians outside my church were immature, ignorant, arrogant, or rebellious. Yet the Christians I met at the conference were humble, dedicated people with a deep faith and a genuine love. Doctrinal differences? Yes. But they could agree to disagree and get along. (Also, their appreciation for the arts and entertainment world reignited my love of writing.)
Then in college, history, sociology, and philosophy classes showed me that many of my church’s beliefs such as rejection of “worldly entertainment” and attitudes towards gender roles were influenced by, even leftovers of, cultural trends in different eras. They were not necessarily the only way to interpret the Bible.

My increasing doubts and strife within the church over the next couple of years pushed me slowly but surely away from it. At the same time, I began discovering a passion for non-profit and mission work, and I began volunteering for a non-profit that assists and supports impoverished children in Central Asia.
Things came to a head shortly after I graduated from community college in 2016. My best friend since birth came to town–and didn’t tell me. She’d married someone from another congregation, but we always kept up with each other. This time, I found out through the grapevine. I called her and asked to get together. She agreed, but I soon found out that her purpose in meeting me was to let me know that she was cutting me out of her life. Until I was 100% back at the church, she (and her husband) told me, I could not call her, send her birthday cards, or have anything to do with her. They told me I had stopped following God. She had tears in her eyes as she said that.

It took a couple of weeks to sink in, but it did. I began to doubt my course, then to panic. What if I was going against God? This may sound silly if you’ve never had an existential crisis, but I was terrified. I would wake up at night with my heart pounding. I cried and cried. I didn’t know who to ask for advice–if I asked anyone at the church, of course, they’d tell me to come back. If I asked people I knew who’d left the church, how could I know they weren’t going against God, too? I hadn’t built strong friendships or a community outside my church yet, so I didn’t know where to turn.

God was gracious. One day I was cleaning up my kitchen and I remember screaming at the ceiling, “I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what to DO!” The words came to mind clearly: “Why don’t you let Me figure it out?”
The next few months were rough as I tried to trust that still, small voice and just keep living.

Then in January, I went on a month-long business trip to upstate New York. On Sunday, I went to a church in the area. The sermon was on just believing God. Afterwards, I went for a walk. I told God, “I would have never believed that You would have me on this path of leaving that church, getting a college degree, and working in the non-profit world. But that seems to be where my path is taking me. I’m going to trust that You love me enough, that if I’m wrong about all this, You’ll show me.” On that same walk–and this may seem irrelevant, but you’ll see it’s not–I asked God if I could attend a retreat that year. I’d never been to a retreat, only my former church’s camps.

I got all kinds of confirmation that I was on the right path. A few weeks later, I got a call out of the blue from an organization whose newsletters I’d signed up for. They had an urgent need for volunteers for a Bible translation mission trip, and would I go? In late February, I was on my way. A month after I got back, a couple who had sponsored my trip offered to send me to a women’s retreat. A year later, I got accepted as a transfer student to the University of Texas . . .

Which led to another huge risk I’ve taken. I went from being a home-owning 40-something woman with a career to a full-time student renting a room in someone else’s home in a new town.

I sold almost everything: the house I was transforming into my snug and cheery retreat from the world, the furniture I’d been carefully accumulating since age 16, the one-of-a-kind dish pattern I loved, the cherished collection of Care Bears I’d built since elementary school . . .

What I planned as a temporary leave became a clean break. I thought I’d rent out my house in the DFW area while I lived in Austin. However–again with the ADHD. I wanted to concentrate fully on my studies and not juggle school and work like I’d done in community college. I figured up how much money I’d need to do that. The realtor I’d hired to find renters ran my house’s value without asking me. When she told me how much it had increased in value, and I deducted closing costs and what I still owed, I realized what I’d make from the sale was exactly the amount I’d calculated that I would need.

I cried. I loved my house. I love entertaining and making a cozy, hospitable environnment, and I’d achieved that. Now, I would have to give that all up.
But something deep inside me told me that really, this is what I’d wanted all along: a fresh start, new worlds to discover, nothing to tie me down or pull me back.

Several years down the road, I can tell you with no reservations that taking those risks resulted in some of the best things I’ve ever done. I graduated with honors from UT and a 200-page thesis on social issues in Latin America and Central Asia. I’ve started a business doing what I love: helping people write books and other content. I’ve met the man of my dreams who sees me as a fully equal partner in life, and because of COVID, I didn’t have to choose which of the two weddings I always wanted. I got both: the intimate, chic, Jackie-Kennedy style, and the following year, the big, fairy-tale princess blow-out. I’m starting to get involved in the mission world again, too.

Building a marriage, building a business, and doing non-profit/mission work are not easy. They’re so fulfilling and beautiful, though, and I know I know I’ll be OK.
Why? I’ve faced terrifying choices, and I’ve taken the plunge.
What have I learned? That it’s really true: great reward does entail great sacrifice.
Girl, it’s worth it!

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers

I love to write, and I love to help others write. You’ve read that I love books?. Well, at age 13, I wrote a whole novel! It was a terribly cheesy princess romance, of course, and sadly, has . . . ahem, been lost to history.

Now, I use my passion for writing and storytelling to to ghostwrite or book coach for self-help and personal development professionals such as:

* life/mindset coaches,
* LPCs,
* psychiatrists, and
* pastors.

Many of these professionals have great insights or processes that could help a broader audience than just their clients or congregation. They’d love to have a book about X that they could just give people! Or maybe, they’d like to do a blog (or vlog/podcast). BUT they don’t like to write, or they don’t have the skillset or the time to write. (Yes, even vlogs and podcasts require some writing.)

A great example is a recent client, and LPC who needed her bio rewritten. She needed a long version for her website, and a short version for some online directories. I sent her a questionnaire for me to work from, but I told her we could meet and go through it interview style instead. She said, “Yes, PLEASE!” Even filling out the questionnaire was more writing than she felt comfortable doing. After a couple rounds of drafts and revisions, we have the longer bio done. She loves it! I’m confident I’ll deliver her a shorter version she loves as well.

It is such a joy for me to deliver written content my clients love that they feel they could have written themselves if they liked writing or had the time or skills.

What I tell people is: “I’m not a fast writer, but I’m a GOOD writer.”

I pride myself on being thorough and giving my clients a polished product that:

1) sounds like them and
2) is written in a way that engages readers.

If you’re going to impact people, you want them to trust you, right? How do you do that? You let people see who you are through your writing.
My experience as a translator and interpreter serve me well in picking up on people’s voice and style.

The other thing you need is to engage readers. People can like you and still think you’re boring, right? How do you avoid that?
My knowledge of the writing industry helps me craft written products in a way that keeps people reading.

Maybe you’re thinking, “OK, she can help me get my book manuscript done. What happens next?”
Glad you asked! I have an awesome network of editors, publishers, literary agents, and book cover designers (including the designer and printer for Rich Dad Poor Dad) to pass my book clients off to.

How did I get into writing? Well, I’ve been writing for years in my personal and professional life. I’ve written short stories, poems, essays, travel newsletters and blogs, several term papers and a 200-page thesis that I’m proud of, donation letters, legal documents, stories of people supported by whatever mission or non-profit I was volunteering with at the time, and hundreds of summary translations (which involve a lot of story-telling).

The conference in Oxford I attended in 2013 made me reconsider getting serious about writing. Also, I had noticed that all my favorite authors had at least a four-year degree, so one reason I pursued a university degree was that I figured there must be some connection.

Right before I graduated from UT, the president of a career coaching company whose program I’d completed introduced me to one of his former students, a successful ghostwriter. That ghostwriter taught and mentored me for six months so I could learn the business. I’m so grateful: I love helping people, and I love to write. With ghostwriting, I get to do both!

Can you tell us about a time you’ve had to pivot?

I’m thinking my answer on the first question on this questionnaire about taking a risk is too long. If it’s OK, I’ll just discuss leaving my church there, and here I’ll use the decision to sell my house instead of rent it out when I moved to Austin to attend UT.

What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?

This one is not particularly fun for me to discuss, but I think it’s important. I’m sure I’m not the only person who has struggled with it!

I don’t like friction or confrontation. I will never be one of those people who enjoys watching other people fight or argue. On top of that, my upbringing conditioned me, in part because I’m a girl, not to question authority.

Without going into details, what that translated to in the workplace, at church, and in life was . . . either me being a doormat and not speaking up when I disagreed with a decision by someone in authority or felt taken advantage of OR me being a b!#@ and exploding when I couldn’t take it anymore. Even worse, as a doormat, I would resort to gossiping about the person–“venting,” I called it. Not healthy. (Yes, there’s a place to vent and process, but I was blurring the line quite a bit!)

Unlearning that the last few years has been painful and scary. I still have a ways to go. It’s been a challenge to find the balance of being polite and respectful while saying what I need to say that may not be something someone wants to hear. I’ve had stilted conversations where I blurted out what I had to say, shaking and on the verge of tears. I’ve had people react in both positive and negative ways, but I’m learning that their reaction is on them, not me.

It has gotten easier. Last year, my pastor said something that hit me really wrong. I told my counselor about it, and she encouraged me to talk to him about it. I found out later than when I asked for the meeting, it made him as nervous as it made me!

We had a good conversation, and although I’m still don’t agree with him 100%, we respect each other’s points of view. Six months later, he used the incident as an example of one of his points in a sermon on how we should be open and loving each other..

Contact Info:

• Website: www.audiencegranted.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/audgrant1/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/audiencegranted
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/judyelane

Image Credits
Clay Banks/Unsplash Jordan Ashley Photography