A Year of Wisdom Gained 🦉

And a teaser of what's to come

this year, i arm-wrestled the guy who taught me biology / photo by moy zhong

blog.twenty-one // I spoke to a mentor figure recently for the first time since I moved to Los Angeles last December. After catching up—and updating him on everything that’s happened in between—he gave me a curious look. “It seems like you gained a lot of wisdom this year,” he told me.

My first reaction was to ask myself, Man, I wonder what he’s smoking.

My second reaction was to look up smart-sounding quotes about “wisdom” and pass them off as casual references here in a misguided effort to prove that I’m well-read. Like this one:

“Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to reform (or pause and reflect).” —Mark Twain

Or this one, which spoke more to my penchant for wry self-deprecation:

“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” — William Shakespeare

My third reaction was to read through my journal and write down what I learned this year, a quarter-century into this thing we call life. The following blog serves as my attempt to highlight what stood out.

Oh, and stick until the end for a teaser. I’ll explain a little bit more about why I’m rebuilding Creator Mag, and why now.*

—NGL

P.S. Last week, I wrote about feedback loops, the importance of shared languages within communities, and creative restlessness. If you missed it, check it out here.

you can tell from this photo that i’m a s-tier photographer

I think the best stories lie within paradoxes. I got the chance to attend South By Southwest this year in Austin. Like many conventions, there’s a lot of lines, badge pickups, and “activations.”**

What makes South By unique from the average stale conference, though, is its humble origins as a festival best known for launching independent artists and filmmakers to new stratospheres. And there may not be a bigger success story than Daniels, the directing duo whose 2022 film Everything Everywhere All at Once started its eventual Oscars-winning run here in Austin.

There were only a handful of must-see panels for me here at South By. Daniels was one of them. I’m glad I oriented my schedule around them, as the duo’s hilarious, hourlong presentation went in a million wacky directions.

You can watch the whole thing here. I believe any creative person (or film buff, or just lover of funny PowerPoints, really) will get a lot out of it. The whole thing revolved around the Japanese concept of Ikigai, a framework that many employ in mapping out meaning within their lives.

helpful to fill out for yourself (and update) if you haven’t already!

But the idea that stuck with me the most came from Daniel Kwan’s closing words. “Reconcile the paradox,” he said. “We are living in an age of paradox, and we should be chasing it.”

He was mostly talking about the spread of artificial intelligence here, though he brought it full circle by mentioning how “every story and every piece of art is an act of saving ourselves and our value.” Everything Everywhere, Kwan said, was an attempt to regain a sense of empathy with his parents’ generation while trying to make sense of the polarized world we live in. “Trying to build bridges,” he concluded, “was a healing process.”

I sometimes get stuck when covering the creator world because a fundamental belief of mine is that we’re all amusing ourselves to death.*** The social media revolution has undoubtedly led to an exhilarating explosion of innovation online, and creative entrepreneurship is at an all-time high. Individuals and communities are building small businesses and opening doors that previously were closed shut for most. We have an endless amount of both accessible education and entertainment at our fingertips, a far cry from the Internet of even ten years ago.

If you’ve been reading this blog, though, you’re probably familiar with my perspective on the tradeoffs. As of September 2024, over half of Americans now get their news from social media; research has shown that these consumers are less likely to get the facts right about, say, a global pandemic than the average traditional media viewer. Government agents (both foreign and domestic) are buying creators—thus buying our elections without accountability. On top of all this, we’re experiencing a loneliness epidemic, and phones are the root cause.

Why I keep coming back to this space, however, is because I see the story of creators as the story of our generation. I don’t believe labeling an entire facet of our social, cultural, and economic fabric as inherently “good” or inherently “evil” is particularly productive, or even interesting. What is interesting is exploring the why—as in, why is this happening?

That’s where the paradox lies. Which is how we build bridges, and find stories worth telling.

I think forming a creative identity comes down to finishing what you start. I stumbled across this quote recently from a magazine journalist I look up to:

I have a friend who has published a bunch of books, and has been pretty successful at it. And I remember he once said to me that the difference between him and everybody in coffee shops who are trying to be him is that he finishes what he starts.

I struggle often with what creative output is perceived to hold “value” and what simply registers as “volunteer work.” In a world where anyone can start a Substack or upload a TikTok video, what really makes someone a “writer” or “filmmaker” anymore?

Does it hinge on if a publication or studio is paying you to write or film? What if you crowdfund your first project on Kickstarter? How should you label yourself if you’re laid off from a role as a stunt double—and use that unfortunate series of events as a launchpad for finally writing that screenplay you’ve been mulling over?

Whether creative work is your day job, or your night job; whether you have an advance for your book, or you’re struggling to land a literary agent; or whether you’re a college student or a retiree; the reality is that the work is the work is the work. There’s no such thing as a “passion project” when most of the work simply cannot exist without initially coming from some place of passion. And you can’t get too caught up with putting in the extra elbow grease, or else you’ll drive yourself mad.

While making my short film, I realized that the degree to which my writing improved throughout 2022—when I published four editions of Creator Mag—convinced me that I owe it to myself to pursue this career. This year, with all of the different projects that flew by my radar, I learned how to prioritize completing the ones that matter most.

Some people possess raw talent; others boast advantages in money, connections, or time. What’s within all of our control, though, is finishing what we start.

And to do that, sometimes…

…I think there’s a lot of upside to pursuing a boring lifestyle. I’ve learned that living an interesting life and stacking monotonous habits are not necessarily opposite actions.

At the beginning of 2024, I did not know that I would interview Hank and John Green live at VidCon—and spend a large chunk of the year writing a profile piece on them.**** I had no idea Vicky would get a job in Switzerland just eight months after we finally made the move to Los Angeles. And I wouldn’t have guessed that between work, my brother’s bachelor party, and my cross-country road trips, I’d visit four new states—meaning I have only ten to go before I collect an entire U.S. of A.

shout-out them swiss mountains tho

When you add all of those things up, the sum feels…pretty interesting! Those experiences naturally trickle down into my creative work, too. The side effect—I’ve been left with a massive, gaping hole of impermanence.

Some people love living out of a suitcase. I am not one of these people. I prefer having a homebase where I can show up every day to work, exercise, cook, and maybe read a book. Mix in hanging with a friend or two, and you’ve got a pretty solid week on your hands.

I’m moving back to Chicago in January for precisely this reason. Not only is it my favorite city in the world—and the creative scene is severely underrated—but I also already have a built-in community in the Windy City. Everything I need is right there, and in the off chance it isn’t, the entire country is a quick flight away.

I feel like I experienced a decade pass by in 2024. I know there will be plenty more experiences to come in 2025. I’m also more than ready to embrace the simplistic things that come with routine.

I think setting ambitious-yet-reachable goals is the best way to ensure improvement. Speaking of routine, I hit my target of reading a book a month in 2023—then set my sights on finishing fifteen books in 2024.

Well, I fell behind pace over the summer and only just finished my eleventh. Now, I have forty-eight hours to match last year’s total.

One way to look at this is failure; another lens is stagnation. Both of these miss the point. I committed to reading more due to a belief that embracing new narratives and ideas would improve my writing in the aggregate.***** And I’ve felt that carving out this time intentionally only compounds, producing an exponential growth curve in the long run.

Before you assume I’ve been reading Atomic Habits on repeat given the way I’m writing this section…no, I haven’t so much as opened a single self-help or entrepreneur-bro book this entire year. My top five******:

5. A Walk in the Woods (1997) — I might view this book as a Certified Dad Classic because my dad, well, loves this book. But the Bill Bryson chronicle—a zany, journalistic account of what really goes into hiking the Appalachian Trail—holds many a they don’t make ‘em like this anymore moment.

4. They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us (2017) — This collection of essays was my entry point into the poet Hanif Abdurraqib’s work. I promptly devoured his new book, There’s Always This Year, too. Hanif is a living testament to the importance of music (and broader cultural) criticism as the format falls out of favor.

3. Everything Now (2021) — Continuing on with the essay collection theme, Rosecrans Baldwin’s attempt to document the city-state of Los Angeles was the perfect way to better understand the sprawling metropolis I called home for nine months this year.

imma miss the privilege of reading on venice beach this winter…

2. Cue the Sun! (2024) — To understand our modern, creator-centric moment, you have to first understand the invention of reality TV. That’s how I felt after reading Emily Nussbaum’s rollicking history of the medium, which ends with a timely look at The Apprentice.

1. Doppelganger (2023) — Naomi Klein has continuously delivered deeply important commentary on seismic inflection points within society. She hits it out of the park with this one, which touches on social media, radicalization, and the core of identity in our digital age.

Speaking of which…

…I think there’s a severe lack of creator coverage from a cultural perspective. What I mean by that is most coverage of online video makers up until this point has focused on the business angle—aka views, subscribers, and (ultimately) dollars. That’s been the main way for journalists, commentators, and whatever other labels you want to throw onto our modern media apparatus to translate creators’ impact in a way most people can understand.

My thesis: We’ve passed the threshold where the average person now understands that creators are no longer some niche thing. It’s just culture—period.

Look at how Timothée Chalamet is leaning into interviews with cult personalities like Nardwuar in order to promote his upcoming film. Or the endless amount of thinkpieces from the most annoying people you know (me included) about the first “influencer election.”

Something’s going on, though. We’re more online than ever before; and yet, somehow, we’re becoming more and more fragmented. There’s a million different rabbit holes and echo chambers to go down, to the point where we’re no longer able to find a common culture to grab onto.

That’s why I’m excited to announce that Creator Mag is relaunching in 2025. We want to build the Rolling Stone for the creator world—a beautiful print product with premier storytelling inside, documenting a wild new frontier of tastemakers with on-the-ground reporting.

In a confusing time, young creatives are trying to find their place. By profiling the rising creators impacting culture—and welcoming readers into our world—we aim to make the internet feel smaller.

We have ambitious plans to build that world through our product drops, behind-the-scenes mini-docs, and quarterly launch events. If you’re interested in learning more about our mission, our team, and our upcoming slate of stories, you’ve come to the right place; I’ll be providing more updates on this blog soon enough.

For now, if you’d like to get involved as either a collaborator, sponsor, or something else entirely, feel free to drop me a reply.

In the meantime, Happy New Year’s, everyone! See you in 2025 🎊

Thanks for reading! Shoot me a reply, comment, or DM if anything resonated with you in particular—I respond to them all.

* Does this count as a soft launch?

** Legend has it that I’m still searching for the meaning of this word.

*** Postman, Neil. 1985. Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business. New York, N.Y., U.S.A., Penguin Books.

**** Coming soon!

***** Also, I love to read. There’s that, too.

****** Barely missing the cut: John Green’s The Anthropocene Reviewed (2021). I just finished it last night, so I don’t think I’ve been able to fully process it.