Learn how to really love yourself with this revolutionary guide
Reviewer Mari Carlson Interviews Kasey Compton, Author of In Search of You: How to Find Joy When Doing More Isn’t Doing It Anymore
Livin’ on the edge. Unfortunately, for many of us, that catchy phrase isn’t so thrilling or desirable. In fact, it describes a state of crisis—if you’re willing to look in a mirror and ask some difficult questions of yourself.
But every lifestory is unique. Today’s guest, Kasey Compton, had achieved everything she dreamt of—advanced degrees, marriage and kids, successful career, and even the authorship of a book. Everything, that is, except for happiness and contentment. She was confident in what she did in life, but not in who she was.
In other words, Kasey’s version of livin’ on the edge featured panic attacks, extremely low self esteem, and almost no sense of self love. She needed help, and In Search of You intimately details her path to joy and self love. Mari Carlson’s Foreword Clarion Review of the book alerted us to this memoir that might be better described as a therapeutic self help book with “empowering messages for women seeking deeper meaning,” in the words of Mari in her review.
When we reached out, Kasey was more than happy to answer a few questions from Mari.
Your memoir starts out with a book release party. How did the release of In Search of You go differently? Was it everything you wanted the last release to be?
The launch party of In Search of You was very different from the one I share in the book. For one, I felt whole, present, and confident in a way I hadn’t before. It was a moment where I truly believed in myself enough to recognize that I deserved to celebrate this accomplishment. What made it even more special was the room full of people who came from near and far, simply because they cared and wanted to support me.
It wasn’t just about the book itself; it was about the journey leading to that moment. I could feel the energy in the room—the love, encouragement, and excitement. It wasn’t about perfection or nerves. It was about connection, which made it everything I had dreamed of and more.
This time, I let myself soak it all in: the laughter, the conversations, the small moments of joy that felt so authentic. It was proof that when you show up for yourself, others will show up for you too.
Place figures prominently in the book: your Southern hometown, real estate, and house decorations. You mention a love of architecture. Can you talk about creating the atmosphere of the memoir?
I’ve always been a visual person, and once I can see it in my mind, I can create it. Writing In Search of You was no different—it was like decorating a house in words. I wanted every scene, every emotion, to have a tangible atmosphere that readers could step into, much like walking into a well-designed room. My Southern roots played a big role in shaping that, as did my love of architecture and creating beautiful, intentional spaces.
Growing up in a small Southern hometown, I was surrounded by charm and character—places that told stories just by existing. Those influences seeped into the way I crafted the memoir, whether I was describing a porch swing, a bustling room full of family, or the quiet stillness of a moment alone. Real estate and house decorations are more than just backdrops for me; they’re expressions of who we are and how we live. They carry memories, struggles, and triumphs.
In many ways, writing this book felt like designing a home for the heart. I wanted readers to feel anchored in the places I described, whether it was the cozy familiarity of a hometown or the details of a space that made it unique. The goal was to create an immersive experience—a world they could see, feel, and almost touch.
Each detail, from the layout of a room to the colors and textures I imagined, was intentional. Just like in life, these places reflect the layers of joy, pain, and growth that shaped me. They’re as much a part of the story as the people and emotions are, grounding the narrative while giving it depth and warmth.
How did you find the quotes at the beginnings of the chapters? What sources inspired you?
The quotes at the beginning of each chapter are ones I’ve heard or used throughout my journey of healing and even before that, during my years as a therapist. Each one holds a special significance—they’re like little anchors that helped me navigate challenging moments or illuminated truths I needed to hold onto.
As I wrote In Search of You, I realized how deeply these quotes had woven themselves into my life and work. They were reminders of resilience, growth, and the wisdom that comes from simply living and learning. Whether they were words I shared with a client in a session, phrases I clung to during my own struggles, or insights I stumbled upon in books, they became touchstones for the lessons I wanted to share in the book.
In some ways, curating these quotes was like creating a scrapbook of inspiration—a collection of wisdom that helped me make sense of my journey and that I hoped would resonate with readers, too. I wanted each chapter to begin with a spark of reflection, something to set the tone for what followed. These quotes aren’t just words; they’re reminders that healing and self-discovery are universal experiences, and we’re never truly alone in our struggles.
The sources of these quotes varied—from therapeutic literature and conversations with mentors to moments of clarity in unexpected places. Some came from famous thinkers, others from everyday wisdom, but all of them spoke directly to the themes of the book: self-love, joy, and the courage to rewrite our stories.
Your book employs a variety of writing styles: journaling, letter-writing, storytelling, and therapeutic advice. Can you speak to writing in these modes? Do you find your voice comes through in one more than another?
Incorporating journaling, letter-writing, storytelling, and therapeutic advice was one of the biggest obstacles in the developmental process of laying out In Search of You. These styles are so natural to me—a part of who I am—but weaving them together into one cohesive narrative felt daunting at times. I vividly remember my writing mentor, AJ Harper, looking at me and saying, “Kasey, this could be really good, or really bad!” That moment stuck with me because it encapsulated the risk and reward of staying true to my vision.
These writing styles reflect different facets of my personality and experiences. Journaling speaks to my inner thoughts and the raw, unfiltered moments of self-reflection. Letter-writing feels deeply personal, almost sacred, like speaking directly to the heart of the reader—or even to myself. Storytelling allows me to pull from my life, my Southern roots, and my love of painting pictures with words. And therapeutic advice comes naturally, born from years of helping others navigate their own paths to healing.
At first, it felt like a patchwork quilt—pieces that didn’t seem to fit together. But I could see the finished project in my mind. I just kept saying, “Trust me. It’s going to work.” I knew that if I could stay authentic to how I naturally express myself, the styles would harmonize. Each one serves a purpose, giving readers a different way to connect with the material.
Ultimately, my voice comes through strongest in the blend of all three. It’s not about choosing one mode over the others but about using them together to create something dynamic and engaging. Life isn’t lived in a single style; it’s messy, complex, and full of different textures. I wanted the book to reflect that.
What AJ said stayed with me throughout the process, but in the end, I trusted my instincts. Seeing how readers have connected with the book makes me grateful I leaned into that risk and let the styles guide the story in their own way.
Did you follow (and stick to) an outline of what you wanted to say before you began writing, or did the process of writing the book change your mind about what you wanted to say?
Many of the journal entries in In Search of You were already written before I even knew they would become part of a book. They were raw, unpolished moments of self-reflection—pieces of my journey that I had captured long before the idea of turning them into a narrative took shape. It wasn’t until later that I realized how those entries could serve as the foundation for something bigger.
When it came to the rest of the book, I did follow the outline pretty closely. The reason for that is simple: the outline was based on the exact process I went through in real time. It wasn’t just a roadmap for the book—it was a roadmap for my healing. Each step, each chapter, mirrored what I was experiencing, learning, and discovering as I worked through my own challenges.
Sticking to the outline felt natural because it wasn’t something I had to force or fabricate. It was authentic to my journey. That said, the writing process always has a way of surprising you. While the structure stayed true to the outline, the emotions and reflections that came out during the writing often deepened or shifted my perspective. Writing the book didn’t necessarily change what I wanted to say, but it did give me clarity on how I wanted to say it.
The blend of pre-written journal entries and the carefully crafted outline gave the book a unique rhythm. It allowed me to keep the process personal and grounded, while still guiding readers through a clear, intentional progression. In the end, it felt like the perfect balance of structure and spontaneity.
In the book you talk about balancing your relationships—with your partner, kids, friends and family. Has the book changed the balance at all?
Yes, the book has absolutely changed the balance in my relationships. It’s been an unexpected source of accountability, almost like a mirror reflecting my own words back to me. Anytime I start to veer off course—whether I’m overcommitting, losing patience, or letting one relationship take precedence over others—I’m reminded to pause, revisit the lessons I shared, and move back to center. Writing those words was one thing; living them is a continual practice.
In many ways, the book has deepened my awareness of how I show up in my relationships. It’s not just about balance but about being intentional—making sure that I’m fully present when I’m with my partner, kids, friends, or family. The act of writing forced me to confront areas where I wasn’t prioritizing the connections that mattered most, and now I carry that awareness with me every day.
It’s also had a ripple effect. My family and close friends have read the book, and they often remind me of my own advice! It’s a humbling and beautiful thing when your words come back to you, especially from the people who know you best. It keeps me grounded and honest about practicing what I preach.
The biggest shift has been learning to forgive myself when I falter. The book has taught me that balance isn’t about perfection—it’s about staying flexible, recognizing when you’re off track, and gently guiding yourself back. In that sense, it’s not just a book I wrote; it’s a reminder I carry with me.
Naming “Big Things” and “Little Things” that structure one’s life is a key component to your message about finding inner joy. Since releasing the book, what Big and LIttle Things have you added to your timeline?
Since releasing In Search of You, my timeline has been marked by both profound Big Things and tender Little Things. One of the most significant Big Things has been my engagement to Kelsey. It’s a moment of joy, love, and hope—a milestone that symbolizes not only a deep commitment to our future together but also the growth and healing that brought me to a place where I could fully embrace this kind of happiness.
Another Big Thing is completing the first draft of my third manuscript, Same, Girl, Same, which I hope to publish soon. Writing it has been a deeply personal and creative process, building on the themes of my previous book while adding new layers of storytelling and connection. It feels like another significant step in my journey as a writer.
On the other end of the spectrum, the loss of my mom the day before Halloween has been an enormous shift. It’s a Big Thing, not just in the magnitude of the loss but in the way it has reshaped how I see life, relationships, and even myself. Grieving her passing has been a journey of reflection and reconnection—to her memory, to my family, and to the lessons I want to carry forward.
The Little Things have been my lifeline in the midst of this grief. I’ve been spending more 1:1 time with my children, savoring the small, quiet moments that often get lost in the rush of life. These moments have become opportunities to pour into them what I sometimes wished I had received from my mom: life lessons, guidance, advice, and encouragement. I’ve been more intentional about being present for them in ways that I know will matter, both now and in the years to come.
These Big and Little Things have deepened my appreciation for the structure they provide in life—how they hold us together when everything feels uncertain. They remind me that joy and sorrow, love and loss, often live side by side, and it’s in honoring both that we find meaning.
In Search of You
How to Find Joy When Doing More Isn’t Doing It Anymore
Clarion Rating: 4 out of 5
A template for delving into one’s past to make fresh meaning from its stories, In Search of You is a gracious example of pursuing happiness and self-worth.
Part memoir, part self-help guide, Kasey Compton’s book In Search of You models finding joy in life.
At her first book launch party in 2021, instead of the fulfillment of her life’s dreams, Compton experienced despair. The moment prompted her to explore her feelings through therapy. With the goal of rising from a two to a ten on the self-love scale, she discovered her inner child and defined the “Big Things” that structured her life and the “Little Things” that connected them. Her awareness of her life’s architecture grounded the new choices she made for her future, enabling her to welcome new love into her life and, in so doing, to gain a confidant and an ally.
A template for delving into the past despite fear and tendencies toward avoidance that’s best approached in concert with in-person therapeutic work, the book addresses those who are also confounded by their feelings. This prospective audience is said to be made up of seekers also in search of love. To facilitate their searching, the book’s chapters begin with journal entries, epigraphs drawing on general wisdom, and letters to the audience that direct progression through their contents. And the chapters end with inquiries—assignments to work on between the chapters that make their lessons applicable in real time.
Although the chapters’ uniform format makes for a steady pace, the final chapters drag. Herein, moments are recombed for fresh meaning until the chronology becomes jumbled. The stories come to be analyzed more than narrated, and they sound less natural the more they are revisited.
Still, the use of slang makes the prose personable and inviting, as does its use of hefty metaphors related to architecture and landscapes, incorporation of conversations with family and friends, and evocative setting details. It is emotive and tactile, indulging in concise phrases and exclamations. At times, its intimacy limits the book’s general applicability: the advice feels outweighed by examples, as with Compton’s use of items saved after her grandmother’s death to prompt recollections of time spent together. It models curiosity and growth well, though: the more Compton remembers, the more she wants to know, until her initial self-hatred dissolves, replaced by gracious tales from a full life.
With its empowering messages for women seeking deeper meaning, the therapeutic self-help book In Search of You models the development of self-love by way of story building.
Reviewed by Mari Carlson September 6, 2024
Mari Carlson
