What's Next

I’ve published one hundred and forty essays on here, which feels both accurate and insane.

There were weeks I couldn’t wait to get my thoughts down. Other times, I had to drag myself to the computer, convinced I had absolutely nothing worthwhile to share. I’ve written from a converted factory in Oaxaca, a sprawling rooftop in Buenos Aires, and a cozy coffeeshop in Porto. Sometimes I started essays sitting next to screaming babies in airports and finished them next my brother’s dog, who likes to place his head directly on top of my laptop, certain I’d rather be petting him than writing.

He was right most of the time.

I began with a handful of readers and have grown this to a number that wouldn’t fill a stadium but would pack a nice theater somewhere—an image I try not to think about when I’m describing some mortifying mistake I made or detailing a private moment of reflection. Instead, I like to pretend these are only for me, that I’m writing things down as a way to keep track of the time and make sense of my experiences, even as I know people will wake up each Saturday morning and scroll through my work, hopefully not noticing whatever typo I’ve managed to miss in my endless edits.

I’ve mentioned a handful of times that I’m working on a book, something I’ve been saying for years now because it’s a goal I’ve had for as long as I can remember. This year I worked on it in fits and starts, expanding on some of the essays I’ve published here and working on new ones. But the truth is, after I spend hours each week getting this ready for your inbox (and also filming and editing videos for the YouTube channel, making a fool of myself in the gym, and, you know, eating and sleeping), I haven’t found enough time to make any meaningful progress in that direction. And when I sat down to write my goals for 2025, a book remains stubbornly at the top of the list.

“You can’t do everything,” my therapist has said to me on more than one occasion. “Maybe you could try tackling things one at a time?”

This advice is both annoying to hear and helpful—not unlike the overall experience of being in therapy. But this year, I’m going to try to listen to it.

This means I’m going to pause these weekly essays. I’m not saying you won’t hear from me at all in 2025, but I won’t be sending you missives every Saturday morning. Instead, I’ll use that time to finally get a book out into the world, and make progress on some other creative projects I’ve been circling around. If you’re one of my paid subscribers, first, I’d like you to know I love you deeply, and also, I’ll be suspending all subscriptions so you won’t have to worry about being charged.

Thank you all for being here and for your kindness each and every week; it fills my soul to hear the things I’ve made connect with people, despite the random typos. I hope you are having a wonderful start to the year, and I’ll see you soon.

Much love,
Travis