We’re looking forward to introducing you to Leslie Colburn. Check out our conversation below.
Good morning Leslie, 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? What is something outside of work that is bringing you joy lately?
Lately, one of the biggest joys in my life has been spending time with my adult daughters, especially when we go line dancing together. There’s something wonderfully humbling about trying to keep up with the steps, laughing at ourselves, and realizing my girls may have inherited my love for dancing… but they definitely have better rhythm.
Those nights are filled with laughter, music, and a whole lot of joy. It’s a reminder that some of the sweetest memories are created when you stop taking yourself too seriously, turn up the music, and enjoy the moment, even if you’re a step behind.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Leslie Colburn, an award-winning children’s author, speaker, and mom who believes stories can change hearts and open doors to sweet moments and deep connections. What started as love letters to my daughters eventually turned into children’s books designed to help families connect through faith, literacy, and purpose, usually right before lights out.
My work centers on encouraging families to be intentional, and use stories to build confidence, character, and Christian values in their homes. I love creating stories that connect with the reader while providing precious snuggle time. My hope is these books, workshops, and resources that meet families right where they are. Right now, I’m writing, speaking, and finishing a new children’s book about a fainting goat, all while reminding myself (and others) that we were created on purpose… even on the messy, noisy days.
Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. What relationship most shaped how you see yourself?
My relationship with my mother dear shaped me more than any other.
She was a strong, single mom—the kind who didn’t talk much about strength but lived it every day. She taught me how to stand on my own two feet by example, not lectures. Work hard. Show up. Trust God. Keep going. Those lessons were woven into ordinary life, and they quietly became part of who I am.
I never imagined I would need that foundation so early. I became a mom myself and then, far too soon, became a mom without a mom. Losing her during that season changed me in ways I’m still discovering. But the truth is, she had already given me what I needed. Her steadiness. Her faith. Her belief in me.
Even now, her voice still guides me. She taught me how to stand. And when she was gone, I realized she had also taught me how to keep going.
If you could say one kind thing to your younger self, what would it be?
I would tell my younger self this: I am so proud of you. Keep going.
When my adult daughters have found themselves at a crossroads, I often tell them to think back to their eight-year-old selves. Go find that sweet and spicy gal. She had dreams. Big ones. Brave ones. And if she could see who you are becoming, she would be so proud.
I saw this play out so clearly with my oldest daughter. When she was eight, she was convinced our Wyoming backyard should have a secret portal straight into the Disney parks. She imagined it, dreamed about it, and believed in it with the kind of whimsy only a child has. Years later, while she was in college, she signed up for the Disney College Program. And just like that, she made her childhood dream real. No portal in Wyoming, but she found a way to walk into those parks whenever she wanted.
The dreams you carry as a child matter. They’re clues. They’re seeds. They don’t always come true the way you imagine, but they often show up in even better ways.
When I was in third grade and with a big push from Mrs. Pickett, I entered the Wyoming Young Authors contest. I won!
That little girl loved words. She believed stories mattered. If she could see my life now, see me still writing, still telling stories, still using words to encourage others, I know she’d be smiling that big toothy and goofy smile. She’d feel proud that I didn’t give up on what first lit her up.
So if I could say one kind thing to my younger self, it would be this: Honor your eight-year-old dreams. Keep writing. Keep believing. The path won’t always look the way you imagined, but one day you’ll realize you became someone your eight-year-old self would be proud of!
Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. What are the biggest lies your industry tells itself?
One of the biggest lies the publishing industry (and many others) tells itself is that success is defined by how many “yeses” you get, how much money you make, or how big your publishing company is. Rejection is everywhere, and it can feel personal, like a reflection of your talent or worth—but it isn’t.
As a writer, I’ve learned that true success isn’t measured by a bestseller list or a contract with a big house. It’s measured by believing in the impact your words can have, by showing up for the story God has placed in you, and by taking the next step (the one right in front of you) even when it’s uncertain. Every manuscript finished, every page shared, every reader encouraged, that’s success. And it’s the kind of success no rejection can take away.
Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: What do you understand deeply that most people don’t?
What I understand deeply is how fragile and precious our time really is.
I think about life in weeks. If the average woman lives around 80 years, that’s roughly 4,160 weeks. When you start seeing life that way, it changes things. The weeks stop feeling endless. Genetics, health, circumstance, none of it comes with guarantees. Tomorrow isn’t promised. This week isn’t promised.
That perspective forces a different question: What do I want to leave this world with?
Not just what do I want to achieve, but what do I want to give? What kind of love, truth, courage, or hope do I want to leave behind in the limited number of weeks I’ve been given?
And here’s the part that still stops me in my tracks: the fact that you are here at all is no accident. The odds of any one person being born—your exact DNA, your exact time, your exact story—are estimated to be astronomically small. Some scientists compare it to odds greater than one in hundreds of trillions. You are rarer than a flawless blue diamond. Rarer than a perfect pearl formed without a single flaw. Those things are locked away and protected because of their value.
Yet here you are, alive, breathing, needed. Right now.
That rarity tells me something important: our existence isn’t casual. It’s intentional. And when you understand how few weeks you have and how rare it is that you’re here at all, you stop waiting for someday. You start living with purpose. You choose to leave the world kinder, braver, and more hope-filled than you found it—because your time, and your presence, truly matter.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://lesliecolburn.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lesliecolburn.author/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/crossmyheartbooks/
Image Credits
Leslie Colburn
