All good relationships grow and evolve, and the same is true of this one here, between me, you, and this newsletter. I started this newsletter with a lot of passion and not much of a plan — similar to how I participate in sports. We’ve been in basements, we’ve gotten lunch at Panera and dinner at Applebees, I’ve cried to you about my grandma’s potentially looming death from COVID-19 (she is still here and well, by the way!). The editorial theme has meandered in the last year, and still here you are reading. I love that.
Now it’s time to tighten up my rubric a little. You may have noticed I took some unannounced time away during which I reflected on Disco Diaries, and what ties these stories together. Aside from each one amplifying often mundane human experiences, I still don’t have a clear vision of coherency. But I do have a plan.
First of all, most editions will be shorter. You’ll see more condensed versions of writing that will be easier to read in the in-between moments of your day. I’m returning to the habit of including a weekly song, only this time the song will be related to the words. The diaries go hand in hand with the disco.
Secondly, starting May 7 (the one year anniversary of Disco Diaries!) I’ll be introducing a paid subscription option. Paying subscribers will get extra monthly content in exchange for their financial support of this newsletter. This might include access to monthly quizzes (see “Which 2020 email phrase are you” as an example), and maybe more. I’m still figuring out the whats and hows, so the details will be announced later.
Taking a few unexpected weeks off was essential for me in reviewing the newsletter, as was accepting my burnout. At first I mistook my fatigue and overwhelm for incompetence and stupidity. Then I happened to hear the right podcast at the right time and felt totally validated. It was an episode of “Call Your Girlfriend” all about burnout, in which hosts Aminatou Sow and Ann Friedman compare notes on their own burnout experiences. As I listened (twice), I realized my current apathy towards this newsletter — a once enthusiastic project of mine — was not a sign that I was broken or done for, but rather that I’m trying to show up 100% for too many things.
I knew this, but I still believed I should be able to do it all. What I learned from this fact is that I’m a cruel boss to myself. If I’m going to keep living as a self-employed creative for the long-term, I need to trust my instincts and know when to say no, even to myself.
Thanks for reading,
Katya