I began platforming on the world wide web some twenty years ago. Shortly before releasing my memoir – After the Flag has been Folded (formerly Hero Mama) via HarperCollins. At the time I was already in full journalism mode having written for various newspapers around the country including my hometown paper of The Columbus Ledger-Enquirer & here in Oregon at The Oregonian. My columns had appeared via the AP wire all across the world, including India aand China. Imagine! Some of my reporting stories went “viral” via the AP wire, long before any of us even knew what going viral meant.

As a result I heard from readers all over the world, including some of you. I have had the additional blessing of meeting many of you in person, some who first wrote me as readers have become cherished friends. Thank you for that.

I had no idea when I first went online twenty years ago how social media would transform our lives and our politics, and our churches. I just viewed the blogging and all of social media as a way to share my life with you, and yours with me. Mostly I did it to avoid having to repeat conversations with my four grown children about where I was on book tour, or who I had met that was interesting. I had no big intentions. No marketing plan.

Ask anyone who knows me, much to my publisher’s chagrin, I am absolutely the worst marketer in the world. I have no vision for it. I simply wanted to “talk with you.” When it comes to the business of writing, I have no heart for it. I remember once years ago a very well-known writer took me out for coffee and gave me all the marketing tips that had helped propel her name to the bestseller list. She schooled me on all the things I needed to do before my book was released.

I was gap-mouthed listening as she told me I should never give a talk anywhere for less than $5,000 per gig. I had no idea that writers charged anything to appear before an audience. I thought the whole point was to swap stories with readers. Besides, I worked a lot of veteran gigs and I wasn’t about to charge them anything.

The whole conversation was exhausting. I crawled back to my car, called my mother and cried, telling her that if I had to do all the things this woman suggested to be a “real writer” I would never make it to the bestseller list. I would fail as a writer.

Nobody wanted me to be financially successful at writing more than my mother. She couldn’t help it. Her poverty upbringing had taught her that wealth was validation that the world respected. So as you might imagine my mother did not advise me to “be yourself”, write your own stories. Don’t try to be like others. Nope. My beloved mother told me to be like Nicholas Sparks “because everybody loves Nicholas Sparks.”

Sigh.

I have written a dozen books. Not a single one has been a financial success. Not by the standards of capitalism or publishers. The very first question high school students ask me when they find out I’m a writer is “Are you rich?” They ask that question always before they ask, “What do you write?” if they bother with the last question at all.

Just typing that exhausts me.

And breaks my heart a little.

If this sounds like regret it isn’t. I don’t regret any of the work I have done. Well, maybe a column I wrote for the FayObserver once. That was regrettable. And while I might have left out some of the more intimate details I wrote in the family memoir, now that I have grandkids who will read it someday, I don’t regret writing that book. So much good in my life has come about because of that lone book. So many wonderful people. So much healing for so many of us.

I am proud of every single book I’ve written, almost all of my columns, and yes much of the reporting I’ve done. And even all the blogging.

What I am less proud of is the 140-character tweets, and too many of my Facebook posts. Many of which have been knee-jerk reaction to the world’s chaos.

Mama died thirteen years ago this Christmas. She’s been dead for the same number of years she and Daddy were married. Thirteen years is so little time, yet, for our little family it was everything, it was the world, it was our eternity.

I don’t know if I even have 13 years of life left. While I’m relatively healthy, I am keenly aware that whatever time I have left on this good earth is finite. And I don’t want to spend another moment of it creating content for Mark Zuckerberg to exploit for his own financial gain.

So I am leaving Facebook come the first day of 2026. I am completely shutting down my account. Deactivating it. Offloading it. You will not be able to search for me there any longer. I won’t see what you are doing in your lives and you won’t see what I am doing. Not in Meta’s meeting place.

There’s a bit of regret in that but not enough to convince me to stay. Much of my thinking was influenced by Sarah Wynn-Williams’ memoir Careless People: A Cautionary Tale of Power, Greed, and Lost Idealism. If you have not read it yet, I challenge you to read it.

But what sealed this decision is the influence that Zuckerberg and the tech folks are having over our world, our politics, our policies, our divisions. Zuckerberg isn’t the first person to kiss Trump’s wide pock-marked white ass but Zuck is shameless about it.

So how can you keep in touch with me?

By text. By phone. By mail. And right here. I am returning to the blog. Hopefully I will be more faithful about it. I may start a newsletter. I haven’t decided yet. In the meanwhile, you can reach me the old fashioned way – by email. And if you like, by phone. Email me at zachauthor@gmail.com and I’ll send you my phone number. If you really want to stay in touch, that, and here, are the most efficient ways. You can subscribe to the blog.

I will continue to be on BlueSky, which is owned by women, not Musk or Zuck. @zachauthor.bsky.social and on regrettably the Zuckerberg owned Instagram @karenzach and What’s App, also Zuckerberg owned.

See what happens when we allow companies to become monopolies? Clearly, Zuckerberg owns too much of our lives, controls too much of our behaviors, mines too much of our soul for money. It is all that motivates these people.

Anyway, I’ve put off writing this for a long while now. I’m not one to do New Year’s Resolutions but I am resolute about this decision. If I don’t get the chance to tell you how much I’ve enjoyed our interactions over the years, please know that you matter to me. You always were the reason I stayed on FB.

Please continue the good fight. Our grandkids are depending upon us.

Karen Spears Zacharias is the author of many good books. Have you read one yet?