2026 is for finding my true fans

I’m currently reading James Worth’s book, Mars in Retrograde. It’s grittier than most of what I read. Crunchier. Pieces of it keep getting stuck in my mind like gravel in the tread of hiking boots. This is not a bad thing; it’s evidence of a good time had. What I mean is, I’m enjoying it. But that’s not a surprise—I got the book after months of binging James’s stories, essays, and Notes. I already knew I’d like the book because I like the way he writes and thinks everywhere else. It’s impossible for me to read something James has written and not feel it, deeply.

For Christmas, my wife gave me a copy of Anna North’s latest book, Bog Queen. Dead bodies, forensics, multiple timelines—it wasn’t immediately obvious that it was my kind of book. But it had the advantage of being my holiday travel read, and as I got into it, I realized I liked it a lot. So much so that as soon as I finished it, I requested two of her other books from the library: Outlawed (immediately read and loved) and The Life and Death of Sophie Stark (currently in transit to my local branch). Anna’s words are more subtle, but they wholly transport me to other times and places.

One of my all-time favorite writers is Amie McNee. What started as an Instagram follow quickly snowballed into full-blown fandom: I’ve read most of her books (then gifted them to friends), listened to nearly every episode of her podcast, taken a handful of her masterclasses, studied her Substack essays, told anyone and everyone who will listen how important her work is and how it’s changed me for the better. When I need a firm but empathetic and inspiring reminder of what’s possible if I dare to show up for myself and my art, I turn to Amie’s words. They remind me of who I am and will be.

I could go on, but my point is this: When I’m a fan, I’m a true fan. I go all in for the artists whose work I admire—even when they go off-brand, off-book, off on a tangent. I cheer for everything they do; I look for opportunities to give them my time, money, attention, trust, and support. And when they give me more of themselves—like Amie does in her day-in-the-life essays, like James does in his Notes—I trust them even more. I feel immense gratitude for the chance to know and understand them better.

In the moments when I’m feeling self-conscious and self-critical, it’s easy to convince myself that this kind of undying support only goes one way: from me to the artists I love. It’s convenient, right? A story that allows me to never write, never share, never risk the vulnerability (and connection) of showing up imperfectly and instead keeps me safe inside my comfort zone. But my comfort zone is becoming cramped. The truth, I know, is that if I can be a true fan for them, then there must be people out there who can be true fans for me. I only need to find them. Or rather, to show up and shine bright enough that they can find me.

So, that’s my intention for 2026: to attract my true fans by writing more honestly, sharing more consistently, and showing up more unapologetically. To open myself to the possibility of being known through my words, not with fear but with trust that the right people will find me just like I’ve found James and Anna and Amie and so many others. Because I do want to be known. And I want you to know me, too.

Here goes nothing.