What Kind of Writer Am I?
Yes — you can be everything, everywhere, all at once.
I'm a lover, a fighter, and a doer.
All three can feel combative yet somehow align.
This restlessness seeps into my writing, too: What the hell kind of writer am I?
That question looms larger now that I'm on Substack — a platform where introverted poets and finance bros coexist. Both are harmless enough and, in their own way, intriguing. When I've had my fill of cutesy chicken soup recipes or local thrift-store guides, I turn to a New Yorker essay on seed cataloging or a photo story by some trailblazer on Wild Sam. And if all that fails to spark joy or ideas, I'll lace up my sneakers, tune in to NPR, or scroll through the latest climate piece to remind myself there's still work to do before I get too comfortable.
Here's the thing: I crave it all. I need a little brain-rot entertainment, but I also want to stay informed. The paths to both may diverge, yet I rely on a weekly mix to keep me sane.
Balance is everyone's favorite buzzword in wellness circles, and it's hardly a revolutionary idea. But the deeper I get into my writerly headspace, the more I'm convinced that maintaining that balance isn't just a passing goal; it's a daily practice I'm still trying to get right.
... both in consumption and creation.
As a Creator
When I sat down to rebrand my website, I made a list of 2025 goals for both my work with Moment and my personal creative ambitions. I began with the pillars of my "identity capital," then split everything into two lists: who I am and where I want to be. Unsurprisingly, those lists echoed each other yet still covered an all-encompassing spectrum.
Right now, I'm the Head Editor for the Moment Journal. Like any online publication, we're inevitably forced to play the game no matter how fresh or edgy we think we are. We're always sticking to our core principles, but we also need to be discoverable: SEO keywords, backlinks, alt-text, ad spend — the whole nine yards. Because, on the surface, published words only count if people see them.
The Moment Journal is a wealth of inspiration and education. Still, on the web, there's always that uncomfortable dance between giving readers something uplifting and nudging them toward the next click. It's a delicate symmetry between what the heart wants to create and what the algorithm demands.
For example, I work directly with creators who get hands-on time with camera gear and then write about their experiences. Sure, we list the tech specs, but we also include personal anecdotes, real photo or video samples, and casual language — like you’re talking to a friend. Our publication is tied to an online marketplace that sells the same gear, which means we’re for-profit. But that URL connection also keeps our Editorial tab 100% ad-free, letting writers exercise full creative agency and dig into more intimate topics like photo essays or project interviews.
I’m proud of how far we’ve come and believe in what we’re building. At its core, our brand is really just 25 people who think doing rad projects with like-minded folks is the best way to live. Of course, we’d love a healthy profit — money keeps the lights on — but our true North Star is closing the gap in the creator middle class by nurturing a creative space that's accessible to every level of artist. We do this through curated camera gear, digital goods, gear education, excellent customer service, and top-notch articles that readers actually want.
Sometimes, I feel like Andie Anderson — the rom-com blonde who’d rather cover local Oak Flat protests than list the seven best Kodak film stocks. But who’s to say what’s not important? I’ve written my fair share of serious narratives before. Does one kind of writing tarnish the other if both have a chair at the table? Does the number of clicks truly signify importance?
These gear review articles matter, too. If you’re a photographer looking to upgrade your camera setup, I want to foster a journal of honest work that fellow creators can trust. My roster of authors and I love sharing this stuff because spreading knowledge is a form of collaborative love — and we like to keep that love flowing.
But again, can we really be everything at once?
Alan Watts Was Right
I discovered Alan Watts in college, convinced he had the secret to existential thought. These days, I’m back to reading his work each night — my new bedtime habit. Watts's main idea is that “duality” is really just an unspoken unity. Polarity, he says, is a myth: light and darkness share the same continuum. Nobody else explains that illusion quite like he does.
At its core, we don’t have to force balance; it’s already there. That insight changed how I see social media and our online sharing. Yes, it’s chaotic, but I’m not fully quitting — extremes don’t work for me. My existential bent reminds me that mega-corporations keep us in a perpetual dance, just as humanity has been tethered to oppressive systems since ancient times, intensified by the Industrial Revolution and now supercharged by technology and consumerism. There’s no silver-bullet fix on a macro scale, but I genuinely believe we can combat these micro-level challenges within our neighborhoods, starting with how we raise our kids.
Like any human construct, money only holds the value we agree on, yet it’s still the currency we use daily. Knowing that contradiction helps me sift real meaning from the noise.
I’m not saying we bail on the fight or pull the plug entirely; quite the contrary. The job is to navigate it with honest discernment, responsibility, and a deep level of humanity. Keep your “why” in focus — tape it to your mirror if you must — and check in with it whenever you finally get a moment to think. Touch the grass, feel the sun on your skin, and remember that your ancestors wrestled with similar doubts for generations before you. Oddly, this comforts me: our stories are only chapters in a longer epic, and I’m still learning to write mine.
Maybe that’s the kind of balance we’re really after.
3 Ways I'm Combatting This Issue
^ Note the clever copywriting on that headline. That's the SEO-driven side of me wanting your attention yet providing genuine, helpful, and personal information to keep you invested. ;)
Science-backed, results-driven data fuels me, and, to be honest, I lust for validation. If I don’t see immediate progress, I’m quick to switch gears (for better or worse). After a decade in this industry — both personally and professionally — I’ve found a few tried-and-true approaches that help me stay on course:
1) Be You
I’m most confident when I’m myself, even if it sounds overstated or egotistical. It’s a foundational piece we rarely talk about. I write about Kodak because I love film photography and cover local lavender farms because I’m obsessed with desert gardening. They may not seem connected on paper, but I make them coexist simply because I enjoy both and want to share that passion in the same vein of interest alone.
2.) Be As Niche As You Want
I’ve become fascinated by how niche my friends’ interests can be — like building cement pavers for DIY backyard projects (something my husband is destined to try) — and realized that entire communities love the same things. If a hobby (or obsession) lights you up, lean into it. Chances are, you’re far from the only one who finds it interesting.
3.) …But Don't Pigeonhole Yourself
That said, avoid locking yourself into a single label. Titles can provide structure and confidence, but they can also become a tight band that stifles creativity over time. As the saying goes, “Specialization is for insects.” Give yourself room to explore and evolve.
“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.”
― Robert A. Heinlein
Who I Think Does This Well
Here’s a short list of people, brands, and publishers I love following for their clear, confident identities — yet multi-hyphenated interests:
The New Yorker: Yes, they’re a high-profile publication, but I adore everything they share. Alongside the front-page doomsday news you’d expect, you’ll also find fictional poetry, beautifully designed cartoons, and plenty of quirk.
Field Mag: I love Grahm, the editor of FieldMag. He balances the perfect blend of quirky gear roundups with creative photo essays on 35mm film.
Magdalena Wosinska: A personal icon of mine: she’s an incredible photographer who also designed her own oasis in Joshua Tree. She skateboards, hangs out with rock stars, and documents her aging parents in the most moving way.
Pia Baroncinci: Pia lives in a multi-generational household with her sweet family, runs LPA and an olive oil company, travels to the Italian countryside for peaceful escapes with her husband, and shares genuine glimpses of motherhood I can relate to.
Service95: Dua Lipa’s publication proves you can be insatiably hot and intellectually stimulating.
SERR: A wildly talented photographer and filmmaker who tells stories like no one else. His art stays true to his experiences — more showing, less telling.
Anthony Bourdain: RIP. A true icon on every front. Sure, he was a chef, but he was also a brilliant writer and wanderer with insider knowledge of hidden bistros and wine. He never labeled himself — he just was, caring only about good company, a solid beer, and a mortadella sandwich. I love him. I miss him.
Lucy Laught: My top photography-world inspiration. She’s a master visual storyteller who portrays travel in a humble, intimate way that I adore. Her style is everything; I want to be her.
Doen: Their success isn’t just from creating stunning, heirloom-worthy clothes (though that’s obvious). It’s also about their community of mothers and the bright spotlight they shine on all forms of femininity.
Nuria Val: She has a sweet family, runs a sustainable skincare brand, tends a small-batch olive orchard, and basks in the Spanish sunshine with her film camera — my exact kind of woman.
Love the newsletter! The photo of the Grand Teton is incredible. What do you write about? Would be interested in contributing to the Revelry Collection Magazine?