Fifty-Two Thursdays

And mildly controlled chaos (with gratitude)

Photo by Owen Michael Grech

Some people run marathons (been there). Others learn Italian or take up beekeeping. I, for reasons still unclear to me, chose the path of most resistance: writing a newsletter every Thursday.

Not occasionally. Not “when the muse strikes.” Every. Single. Thursday.

The bar was low: hit publish before midnight. Sometimes I cleared it in sweatpants, stirring a mug of tea that had grown a personality.

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The goal (allegedly)

The original idea was noble enough. “Show up.” That was it. Just write and share and build a habit that would turn me into a disciplined, prolific, deeply fulfilled writer. Or at the very least, someone who remembered what day of the week it was.

What actually happened was more like a slow descent into a kind of productive madness, where most Wednesday nights began with the illusion of structure and a generous helping of panic, and ended with me staring at a blinking cursor like it owed me rent.

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Creative brilliance (sometimes)

Some weeks, I wrote pieces that felt good—like, “Should I quit my job and do this full-time?” good. Other weeks, I wrote things that made me want to apologize to everyone who opened the email.

But I hit publish anyway. Because ritual. And also because I am just stubborn enough to follow through on a challenge no one asked me to take.

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Topics I somehow got away with

Over the year, I covered:

• Resilience

• Travel

• Space metaphors

• Pets

• Ratan Tata

• The therapeutic power of colouring

• And a strangely heartfelt love letter to binoculars

Was there a plan? No.
Was there a brand voice? Also no.
But people kept reading, which leads me to believe one of two things:

a) you're very kind
b) you're too polite to unsubscribe

Either way, I appreciate it.

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Reader reactions

Some of you replied. Some of you shared posts. One person sent a WhatsApp message that just said, “This made me think of soup.” I do not know what that meant, but I appreciated the energy.

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Milestone reflections™

One year in, I have learned:

• Consistency beats inspiration.

• Coffee (or tea) solves most creative problems.

• Every writer has at least three “this is garbage” drafts for every one they actually publish.

Also: no one is ever really ready to write. You write anyway. Then you edit. Then you regret using that metaphor about hilltops.

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Looking ahead (with measured expectations)

I will keep writing. Probably on Wednesdays. And, publish on Thursdays. Possibly in my running shorts. The drafts folder is full of questionable ideas, but I figure if I have survived the Mandala phase, I can survive anything.

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Your part in this (yes, you)

If you have thoughts, requests, strong opinions about semicolons—send them. Or just read silently and never reply. That also works. Low pressure is the vibe.

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Thanks for being here

You could be doing literally anything else with your time. And yet, here you are—reading words I typed with a half-empty mug and a vague sense of purpose.

That means more than you know.

Cheers to another year of Thursdays, questionably structured metaphors, and the quiet, ridiculous joy of pressing Send.

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PS: Audio summary generated by Google NotebookLM