2025 Final Footnotes
Thoughts from the year and what's coming next
It’s been a lot of year.
I struggled with trying to find a cute and clever header that didn’t express this sentiment, but crawling into December, it felt wrong to look the other way. This is the season for reflecting, and wow, there is a lot to reflect on this time around.
There has been a tone shift that’s happened on substack that concerns me. I’ve been writing here for over three years, which is about thirty years in today’s pace. When we began this experiment, the premise was empowering writers to earn money without a media gatekeeper. This was the saving grace for many who’d been writing for media outlets that paid less and less, and who often commission pieces they don’t end up taking, with the writer taking the hit in time and energy and lost opportunity.
As a result, the writers came flooding in, and it was a glorious thing to see: writers unleashed to build something on their own terms. This continued for several years, and reading was as joyous as writing here. I went through a few incarnations of my publication and found my footing.
So what’s changed? What I’ve been watching lately, and what distresses me, is an increase in what I can only describe as outrage porn. And believe me, I am often outraged these days. Between multiple wars, an administration that has made this year feel decades long, astonishing examples of sexual violence, continued environmental disasters and fear, there’s a lot to be upset about.
But that’s not the kind of outrage I’m talking about. I’m talking about people outraged by other writers’ success. We built a community here for writers to cheer each other on, and writers thrived in that space. So when I start seeing notes and hot take posts in which books are dissected by people who begin the post admitting they didn’t even take the time to read the book, I’m worried.
Substack has changed. There has been an influx of investment capital, which historically has indicated change on any media platform. We’ve all seen this before. But the way we interact with each other is within our control. In the past year and change, I’ve seen an author with a massive following bullied off this platform for being too successful and willing to make money off her work and several memoirists taken down a peg or two by many who openly admitted they hadn’t read the book they critiqued.
It is hard work being a writer. We all know this. And seeing someone appear to have a successful time writing can bring up a lot. But I want to offer another take: having interviewed hundreds of writers for The Secret Library, none of them reached their position easily. A writing platform is not like generational wealth — writers have to work for years, decades even, to reach that point in almost every case. Does generational wealth and privilege play into success? Absolutely, but I don’t see people critiquing the institutions that allow for this nearly as often as I see individual writers taking the hit for the whole society.
There is no easy road to writing success, but there are ways to make a solid start. Being a good literary citizen is one of them. We all benefit when people feel safe to write what’s in their hearts on this platform. Can we work to build that together in the new year?
I was getting a haircut last week, and overheard a favorite Berlin phenomenon: two non-native speakers having a conversation in German. Those who speak English as a second language now outnumber native speakers worldwide, but learning German as a second language is a smaller and more difficult endeavor, even in Germany. Those who dig in and insist on speaking this notoriously challenging language are investing in a cultural bridge many sneak around by speaking in English instead.
I find a different space of conversation opens when I speak German with other non-native speakers. I worry less about my grammar, and we all know we’re screwing up constantly, but, nevertheless, we persist.
Listening to this lovely German conversation between a Japanese hairstylist and her client, who had what sounded to me like an English-native-speaker accent of some derivation, I realized this is what I seek on substack: conversations where we meet outside of our normal patterns. Where we know that we’re outside habitual thinking, and we give each other grace, knowing we’re on wobbly ground, together.
I definitely found such a pocket of joy this past few months, right here.
A surprising oasis
One of the greatest gifts of 2025 has been the creation of my slow read of A.S. Byatt’s Possession. The community of people who gathered to read this book with me was nothing short of a miracle. Just as I was feeling discouraged about the hot takes and quick snapping on substack, kind, generous, thoughtful readers came out of the woodwork and spent several months reading a really hard book with me.
Possession is over 600 pages, and contains thousands of lines of original poetry. Byatt gives us diary entries, full poems, excerpts of essays and other historical documents so readers can follow a literary mystery through to its conclusion. It does not play by 21st-century rules. And yet, we found so much that spoke to us in our current world.
And the best part? The comments section! I had come to fear comments sections on substack until this one lit up in September. The readers dug into the story and the history and shared their own discoveries, their thoughts about the imagery in the book, and best of all — they tackled divisive topics with courtesy and respect, and we all learned so much.
This is what I’m on substack for. This is why I look forward to 2026 with so much hope.
One of the loveliest messages of Possession is that a herd of odd, often desperate academics scrapping for a limited amount of resources ultimately succeeded when they supported each other in their quest, rather than fighting for what they could take on their own.
We are always more when we support each other and work together. I hope we will keep building a community here with that principle in mind.
Thank you for being here, and for helping to build it with me.
What’s on in December
Each year, I take most of December off outward-facing work. December is for my writing, reviewing the past year, and planning out new projects.
As we are all so busy and so taxed with commitments this time of year, I find it the best time to slow down and recharge from writing online.
However, I’m leaving treats and gifts for you to enjoy through the month:
Paid subscribers:
The Your Writing Year Planner is available to download now. Enjoy!
We will reconvene in January on the 9th for a live writing workshop, which will also be recorded. Download the planner and RSVP for the workshop here:
All Subscribers:
I’ve got several posts coming your way about rituals I enjoy over the holiday season, two updated from the archives and out from behind the paywall and a brand new post about a new ritual I’ve started this month and am in love with. Happy reading! These posts will arrive on Mondays.
In order to preserve all our rest this season, comments will be off for the month of December. Just read and enjoy — no need to respond.
Other treats happening this month
My dear friend
is once again offering her gorgeous Advent Calendar series throughout the month. It is well worth a paid subscription for at least the month, but I suspect you’ll fall in love and want to stay. (I did — everything I own is covered in Anna’s stickers these days!)
My brilliant client,
, is also running a monthly series through December on symbols for reflection through the season. If you need a nourishing breath this season, this will delight you. Visit the first post here: has a new podcast, and it is such a joy. Guests share their vision for the ultimate creative retreat, and listeners can escape hearing all the details for a peaceful and nourishing hour. If the next month becomes too much, pop one of these episodes in your ears immediately. I had a busy day yesterday, and this was the balm I needed.
