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An Inspired Chat with Amy Lyle of The burbs

We recently had the chance to connect with Amy Lyle and have shared our conversation below.

Good morning Amy, it’s such a great way to kick off the day – I think our readers will love hearing your stories, experiences and about how you think about life and work. Let’s jump right in? Are you walking a path—or wandering?
I wish I could say I had a dramatic moment where everything changed—a big, cinematic turn off the path. But that’s not how it happened. It was quieter than that. Before COVID, I had just turned fifty and felt like I was hitting my creative stride. I had written two bestselling humor books, co-hosted a talk show for UI Media, and was invited to speak at TEDxBeaconStreet.
After nearly a decade of hard, often unseen work, things finally felt steady. There was a satisfying momentum—invites to write, speak, and contribute kept coming. Then the pace softened, and the invitations trickled away. I know I’m not alone in this—the pandemic didn’t just shut us in, it shut us down.

Now, a few years later, I’m standing (well, technically sitting) in the stillness—unsettled, undone, and unfun. My life feels like a string of “I used to” and “I did” moments with nothing solid beneath me. Writing this article isn’t a return to what was; it’s the first shaky step toward finding the courage to wander—to move forward, even if I don’t know exactly where I’m going.

I had it better than most. No one stopped me from writing or creating, unlike so many who couldn’t work at all during COVID. And yet, there came a stretch where it felt like nothing would ever start moving again. Everything just… stopped. Instead of making a plan or asking for advice, I pouted, complained, and mourned the future I’d imagined.

Expert avoidance became a full-time job. I spent more time with my 85-year-old dad. I started delivering care packages to my daughter, in person, —from Atlanta to Knoxville—that Amazon could have handled in an afternoon. I’d arrange and rearrange pantries, paint furniture, and binge Gilded Age documentaries. All of it was an attempt to drown out the nagging voice asking, “What will you do now?”

Enough is enough. I’m finding the courage to wander. My friend Gina and I—who once had producers, editors, and sponsors on a studio production—have started a Facebook show, In The Burbs, from Gina’s home office. We do it all ourselves, and sometimes we forget to hit “record,” but we love it anyway. I’ve started to gather stories for another humor book, in the same spirit as my first two—about failures. I’m also working on new stand-up material. I’m not sure the world needs these pursuits, but I do. Hours disappear when I’m at it, and my Gilded Age obsession only surfaces during exercise, which isn’t often. Something—finally—is taking hold.

Whatever I’m doing, and whatever you’re doing—if it’s helping or lifting others, we’re at least wandering in the right direction.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Amy Lyle is an award-winning humorist, bestselling author, TEDx speaker, and mom of four—an expert in awkward moments, bad ideas, and rescue dogs. Her books, The Amy Binegar Kimmes-Lyle Book of Failures and We’re All a Mess, It’s OK, turn life’s little disasters into laughs, and her TEDx talk, Finding the Funny in the Crummy, proves she’ll find humor anywhere—even in her own chaos. Amy and her husband, Peter, live outside Atlanta. She’s a terrible dancer.

Thanks for sharing that. Would love to go back in time and hear about how your past might have impacted who you are today. Who taught you the most about work?
I’m from the Midwest, raised by German and Irish parents—where slacking was a crime, but turning your suffering into a story was art.

If you could say one kind thing to your younger self, what would it be?
I’d tell my younger self, “You’re right, this is a crazy, not-so-normal environment. But hang in there—it will lead you to opportunities you never imagined.

Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? What’s a belief you used to hold tightly but now think was naive or wrong?
I used to believe I could size people up in an instant. Naive, as it turns out. Now that I’m older (and slightly wiser), I give people a break—most of the time. Nick Carraway’s dad in The Great Gatsby said it best: “Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone, just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”

Okay, we’ve made it essentially to the end. One last question before you go. When do you feel most at peace?
I rarely feel at peace, but for a few minutes each day, I do—outside with my dogs. I know how to make Labradors happy, and in those moments, gratitude and calm settle over me.

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Image Credits
Andrea Ferenchik

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