Skip to content

Tag: apocalyptic_writer

Navigating the Digital Waves: How I Communicate Online as an Author

Navigating the Digital Waves: How I Communicate Online as an Author

Published by S.M. Ulbrich on 01/14/2026

How do you communicate online?

Hello, readers! I’m Shirley Ulbrich, writing under the pen name S.M. Ulbrich, and today I’m diving into the prompt: “In what ways do you communicate online?” As an author of fantasy, sci-fi, dystopian, and children’s stories, online communication is my lifeline for connecting with readers, sharing my work, and building a community.

Hard at Work – MakingPlans

From promoting my books like the Discovering Misty series, George and the Eagle, The Covenant Fire (a standalone book), and the Zion series—America’s Great Terrible Storm, a 6-book series exploring themes of prophecy, survival, and faith with elements like Obama-era events, New Jerusalem visions, survival vaults, and culminating in a Survival review in the last book—to preparing to host my Pages Alight Podcast,

Misty the Mermaid of the Emerald Coast

I use a mix of platforms to engage, inspire, and interact. In this post, I’ll break down my methods, sprinkle in insights from key books on digital communication, and highlight how these tools help me spread the word about my projects. Let’s explore!

My Go-To Online Communication Methods

Online communication for me is all about blending creativity with connection. It’s not just about broadcasting—it’s about fostering conversations, sharing behind-the-scenes glimpses, and turning solitary writing into a shared adventure. Here’s how I do it:

1. My Website: The Central Hub (smulbrichauthor.com)

My website is the foundation of my online presence. It’s where I post detailed blog entries, book descriptions, and updates. For instance, I recently shared “Got a New Story in the Works for Misty,” teasing expansions to the Discovering Misty series about a young mermaid’s adventures in self-discovery and friendship. I also use it to announce wins, like taking 1st prize in a writing contest, and to promote my standalone book The Covenant Fire, a Christian/LDS YA apocalyptic novel full of adventure, as well as the Zion series, America’s Great Terrible Storm. This 6-book series weaves Latter-day Saint prophecy with dystopian survival stories, incorporating elements like Obama-era collapses, visions of New Jerusalem, and survival vaults in a saga of faith and resilience. The series includes books like Collapse (focusing on early chaos), Runners, Shadows of Zion, Rebuilding, Legacy, and ends with a Survival review in the sixth book, providing a comprehensive look back at survival strategies and themes. The site links everything together, from buy buttons on Amazon to podcast trailers, making it easy for visitors to explore my world.

2. Social Media Platforms: Engaging and Promoting

Social media is where the magic happens in real-time. I use it to share snippets, visuals, and calls to action for my books and podcast.

• Facebook (fb.com/smulbrich): On FB, I post about my multi-genre tales, from the whimsical Discovering Misty to the intense Zion series, America’s Great Terrible Storm, which follows characters navigating faith, chaos, and prophetic storms across six books, ending with a Survival review. I share trailers, reader reviews, and community discussions to build buzz.

• Instagram (@s.m.ulbrich): IG is perfect for visuals. I post book covers, AI-generated art inspired by my stories—like a podcast banner with a glowing antique book for Pages Alight—and reels teasing scenes from George and the Eagle, where young George Washington and his eagle companion face storms and adventures. It’s great for hashtagging #multigenre and connecting with visual storytellers.

• X (formerly Twitter, @SMUlbrich): On X, I share quick updates, blog links, and engage with trends. For example, I posted about my YouTube milestone for Pages Alight Podcast, which lights up discussions on my books and storytelling. I promote entries like “Narrative Nook Monday” series, tying into my Zion books such as America’s Great Terrible Storm, and even chime in on fun polls to keep interactions lively.

• TikTok and YouTube: These are video-heavy for my Pages Alight Podcast, where I will dive into book themes, read excerpts from the Zion series, and share trailers for The Covenant Fire. Short clips build excitement for upcoming releases.

These platforms help me reach different audiences—FB for in-depth shares, IG for aesthetics, X for quick chats—but they can get noisy, so I focus on authentic engagement to avoid burnout.

3. Email and Newsletters: Direct and Personal

I use email lists via my website to send exclusive updates, like sneak peeks at the Zion series’ Survival review or podcast episode drops. It’s asynchronous, allowing thoughtful responses without the pressure of live chats.

4. Podcasts and Video: Bringing Stories to Life

My Pages Alight Podcast on YouTube is a passion project. I communicate through audio-visual storytelling, discussing themes from my books, interviewing fellow creators, and reading passages. It’s ideal for conveying tone and emotion that text alone misses.

To refine my approach, I’ve drawn from several insightful books:

Lessons from Books on Online Communication

• Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other by Sherry Turkle: This reminds me that while social media expands my reach for promoting Discovering Misty, it can lead to superficial ties. I counter this by encouraging genuine comments and DMs.

• Online Communication: Linking Technology, Identity, & Culture by Andrew F. Wood and Matthew J. Smith: It explores how platforms shape identity, which helps me craft my author persona across FB, IG, and X.

• Smart Online Communication: Protecting Your Digital Footprint by Mary Lindeen: Essential for safe promotion, especially when sharing personal wins like my newsletter awards.

• Future Crimes by Marc Goodman: A warning about digital risks, guiding me to protect my content while sharing Zion series details.

These books emphasize balance—using tech to enhance, not replace, human connection.

The Impact and Future of My Online Efforts

Communicating online has grown my audience, from 25 followers on X to YouTube subscribers celebrating milestones. It’s helped sell books, launch the podcast, and connect over shared loves like fantasy and faith. Challenges? Time management and algorithm changes. But the rewards—reader feedback on George and the Eagle or Zion discussions—make it worthwhile.

How do you communicate online? Drop a comment below, or find me on socials to chat. Check out smulbrichauthor.com for more, and stay tuned for Pages Alight episodes!

Thanks for reading—let’s keep the conversation going!

Created With Nightcafe

Created With Nightcafe

Published by S.M. Ulbrich on 12/15/2025

Below is my Creation Listing for 2025. As you can see, I haven’t been using this tool very long, but I’m certainly enjoying it. The entries in the piece shows some of my books and yet-to-be published books of this year.

You can see Misty, the mermaid of the Emerald Coast, from my 2 children’s books of the same name. She’s chatting with 6-year-old George Washington and his buddy, the brave eagle.

Under that section, you’ll find the book cover for my Washington’s Fantastical Crossing, where he’s being watched by merfolk – I really hadn’t planned to write so many stories about merfolk!

The one at the bottom middle is part of my America’s Great Perfect Storm. The leopard and night-watchers are suggestive of Obama’s dream — more on that later.

The bottom left is from my YA speculative fiction, “The Covenant Fire”, a story about a team asked to locate and activate an ancient artifact, while avoiding the evil cabal chasing them to recover the artifact to use for their purposes. This artifact is meant to bring about the 2nd Resurrection and gather the Lost Ten Tribes.

“Pages Alight” is my forthcoming podcast on YouTube! Coming very soon.

creator.nightcafe.studio/creation/9P7SXN5m9VIVEBZ8XgHJ/my-2025-wrap

Thanks for reading!

Life in a Small Town

Life in a Small Town

Published by S.M. Ulbrich on 11/16/2025

The essence of my life.

Contest: Write 150 words about your life in full; don’t give just parts of your life.

I was born in a small town. Story was my first language. I learned to read the rules in school and to rebel in books. Now they’re arrows pointing injustice and wonder.

I was married young and divorced younger but I learned motherhood would be an anchor in all storms of love. Then I was married for keeps.

Mother and foster motherhood came. Six boys, two girls, two angels, brave and funny. I learned to read my heart in their handwriting and put children’s books in print.

Misty a mermaid swam in my thoughts and cried for a tiara! Faith grew where my eyes met a portrait of Christ saying, “You are enough.”

I am a writer today scheduling social media posts, recreating like fireflies; still I believe stories can cross ice floes.

My life? Untidy, hope-full, windy, full of notes of beauty, sometimes heartbreaking and often rewriting manuscripts.

Narrative Nook Monday #3: Echoes of the Forgotten Shore

Narrative Nook Monday #3: Echoes of the Forgotten Shore

Published by S.M. Ulbrich on 10/06/2025

Narrative Nook Monday: Echoes of the Forgotten Shore

Welcome back to Narrative Nook Monday, dear readers—a cozy corner of Family Circle 14 and S.M.Ulbrich Blog where stories unfold like whispers from the bayou, blending our Acadian and Cajun roots with threads of wonder and heart. Today, let’s dive into a tale inspired by the resilient spirits of the Gulf Coast, where the sea holds secrets and second chances. I call this one “The Lantern’s Promise”, a short story of loss, light, and the unbreakable pull of home. Pull up a chair, brew some chicory coffee, and let the words carry you away.

In the salt-kissed hamlet of Petit Rivière, where the Mississippi’s lazy fingers tangled with the Gulf’s restless waves, lived an old fisherman named Étienne. His days blurred into a rhythm of nets and knots, his nights into the hush of a widow’s solitude. Twenty years had passed since the great storm of ‘05 stole his Marie—not her body, mind you, but her spark—leaving him adrift in a world that felt as empty as the bay after a nor’easter.

Étienne’s boat, L’Étoile Filante (Shooting Star, though it hadn’t shot anywhere in a decade), bobbed forgotten at the rickety dock. He mended nets by lantern light now, not for the sea, but for the ghosts that gathered in the gloaming. Folks in town said he talked to shadows, but Étienne knew better: they were echoes. Marie’s laugh in the wind, her callused hands braiding his hair with tales of her Acadian grandmère, who fled the British expulsion in 1755, carrying only a locket and a song.

One fog-shrouded dawn, as the herons cried their mournful reveille, a stranger washed up on the shore. Not a man, exactly, but a silhouette stitched from mist and memory—a figure cloaked in seaweed, eyes like polished abalone shells. “Étienne LeBlanc,” it rasped, voice like gravel under keel, “you’ve kept my light too long.”

He froze, net half-mended in his lap. The lantern at his feet flickered, its flame dancing defiant against the damp. “Who are you to claim what’s mine?” he growled, though his heart hammered like a gator’s tail on tin.

The figure knelt, close enough for him to smell the brine and something sweeter—jasmine from Marie’s garden. “I am the Keeper of Lost Promises. Your Marie made one the night the storm came: to light your way home, no matter how far the tide pulls.” It extended a hand, palm up, revealing a tiny glass orb etched with Acadian fleur-de-lis. Inside swirled a miniature tempest, frozen mid-roar.

Étienne’s breath caught. That night replayed in his mind’s eye: Marie pressing the orb into his fist as winds howled, her lips fierce against his. “Keep this, mon cœur. It’ll guide you when I’m gone. Promise me you’ll live, not just survive.” He’d nodded, numb, and tucked it away. But grief is a sly thief; it had hoarded the promise like a miser with coins.

“Why now?” he whispered, the words cracking like driftwood.

The Keeper’s eyes softened, reflecting the lantern’s glow. “Because the shore forgets no one, but it tires of waiting. Sail out at dusk, Étienne. Follow the light to where her echo lingers.”

Dusk painted the sky in bruised purples and golds. Against the mutters of neighbors (“Old Étienne’s finally lost it”), he shoved off in L’Étoile Filante, the boat groaning like an old friend roused from slumber. The orb nestled in the lantern, its inner storm now a steady pulse of blue fire. He steered into the gathering dark, the Gulf a vast inkwell swallowing stars.

Hours bled into the velvet night. Waves slapped the hull like impatient lovers, and doubt gnawed at him—had grief conjured this madness? Then, a glimmer: not from the orb, but ahead, where sea met sky in a hazy seam. A chorus of lights bobbed there, faint as fireflies, weaving patterns that tugged at his soul. He leaned into the tiller, heart thundering.

As L’Étoile cut through the swell, the lights resolved into lanterns—dozens, hundreds—drifting on a hidden atoll, a crescent of sand veiled by perpetual mist. Figures moved among them, translucent as moonlit lace: souls unmoored by storms past, Acadian exiles and Cajun kin, waiting for their lights to be claimed. And at the heart, Marie—her hair wild as the waves that took her, her smile a beacon.

“Étienne,” she called, voice clear as a fiddle’s reel. She stepped forward, solidifying in the lantern’s warmth, her hand cool but real against his weathered cheek. “You kept your promise. Now let me keep mine.”

They talked till the stars wheeled overhead— of lost years, of the boys they’d never had, of the songs her grandmère sang to summon courage. The other lanterns brightened with each word, promises reignited, pulling their keepers home across the water. Dawn crept in, gilding the mist, and Marie pressed the orb back into his palm. “This isn’t goodbye, mon amour. It’s the light we carry together. Go build that garden again. Plant jasmine for me.”

He sailed back as the sun crested, the Gulf now a mirror of gold. L’Étoile Filante kissed the dock with a sigh of relief. The town stirred, eyes wide at the old man grinning like a fool, his nets abandoned for a shovel and seeds. That night, as jasmine bloomed improbably under his window, Étienne lit his lantern—not for ghosts, but for the living promise within.

And on fogged dawns thereafter, when strangers washed ashore, he’d share the tale: “The sea don’t steal; it lends. Just follow the light.”

What do you think, friends? Does The Lantern’s Promise stir echoes in your own heart—memories of loved ones, or the quiet strength of heritage that lights our way? Share in the comments below, or drop a line on Goodreads or Amazon. If this nook warmed you, curl up with one of my Zion Chronicles for more tales of trials turned triumphs, or revisit Discovering Misty for seaside magic that lingers. Until next Monday, may your own lanterns burn bright. Au revoir!

*~ S. M. Ulbrich*

(Word count: ~750. Inspired by Gulf Coast folklore and the enduring love in stories like Love You Forever.)

Saturday Snippet #1: A W-I-P The Covenant Fire

Saturday Snippet #1: A W-I-P The Covenant Fire

Published by S.M. Ulbrich on 09/27/2025

From my manuscript, The Covenant Fire, a Christian/LDS YA Apocalyptic Novel with loads of exciting adventure. To be published soon!

Chapter 1, paragraph 4.

The ground heaved, a beast awakening. Hymnbooks crashed, a child’s scream pierced the air. Sarah’s training snapped in—she gripped the pew, eyes locking on exits. “Stay calm!” she barked, voice slicing through gasps. A young man nearby, Ethan Caldwell, 28, dropped his leather journal, ink smearing as the quake roared. Beams splintered, stained glass exploded in a rain of crimson shards. The Tabernacle groaned, its 164-year-old frame buckling.

Salt Lake LDS Temple

“Down!” Sarah yelled, sprinting down the aisle. A light fixture swung, nearly clipping her. She scooped up a wailing boy, dodging falling plaster, her shoulder slamming a pew. Pain seared, but she shielded him, scanning for safety. “To the exit!” she shouted, clutching the kid tight.

Ethan pushed through the chaos, waving people toward a side door. Their eyes met briefly—his hazel gaze intense, almost knowing. She handed the boy to his sobbing mother, panting. “Good move,” he said, voice steady. “Military?”

“Ex-Army,” she snapped, as the ground lurched again. They ducked under a pew, the air thick with dust. Outside, the Salt Lake Temple’s spire swayed, the Angel Moroni teetering, skyscrapers collapsing in glittering bursts. A gas main erupted, fire licking the horizon, screams blending with sirens.

(Fully written, but not yet published. To Be Continued)

Shirley