For me, 2025 will be remembered as a year in which the wheels fell off many of the large-scale structures I’ve long taken for granted, and during which the world became more confounding and dangerous. Lots of interesting stuff happening, lots to be excited and optimistic about, but with an unfortunate, basal hint of menace, anxiety, and nail-biting anticipation.

This was also a year in which I decided to make a hard pivot in terms of how I spent large chunks of my time, reorienting toward fiction writing. Which is something I’ve done a fair bit of over the years, but never in a fully committed, “let’s figure out what I don’t know yet, and let’s begin the long, tedious process of learning what I need to know” sort of way.

As a consequence of what I’ve done so far, I feel like all the fiction I’ve written up till this year was just incredibly ham-handed and incomplete. If I’m lucky and assiduous, I’ll feel the same about what I’m writing today in a year or so.

That said, I managed to get a full, query-ready novel written and out to agents, and just a few days ago I finished the second draft of another novel. The former will of course go through many more iterations if and when it’s scooped up to be shopped around to publishers, and the latter will require a lot more work before I’m even comfortable having beta readers see it. But I feel really good about my progress so far, and I have a much better sense of where I am in terms of making fiction-writing a more fundamental part of my life and career, moving forward.

This was also the year that I recommitted myself to investing in my local, in-person life and community. Which is a strange thing to say, I know, but after traveling full-time for about a decade, I now realize that I’ve always kind of had one foot out the door, assuming that if I put down deep roots in any one place, that would limit me.

What I’ve discovered (and this is something most people already know, but I had to relearn) is that my entire self (including the part of me that maintains a connection to the rest of the world) benefits from also developing deep ties with people, culture, and the ineffable “here-ness” of a chosen home base.

I now run a little Sunday reading group, attend regular game nights, and have a wonderful community of friends who I would happily help move and who I believe, in a pinch, would pick me up from the airport (which I see as solid gauges of connection).

I also put out a little Milwaukee-focused meetup newsletter, which to my surprise has attracted hundreds of subscribers (about 770 so far!), and which has in turn put me in contact with even more people and groups as I try to help folks find their own communities—which has been immensely gratifying.

I still feel remorse and anger and confusion and helplessness because of those larger, swirling elements that are endlessly cacaphonizing through every possible communication channel. I worry about the daily disruption of long-held traditions, expectations, and the foundational elements of systems that I always assumed would outlive me.

But focusing on what I can do—where I can actually apply leverage and achieve productive, position outcomes on a day to day basis—has helped me direct my time and attention where it’s best spent right now: telling stories, catalyzing connections, and making the space I occupy and the people with whom I share it happier, healthier, and better off, to whatever degree possible.

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