Deadline Day 🛎️

Thoughts on focus in a world on fire

did you touch grass this week?

blog.ninety-nine // Our next print issue of Creator Mag releases on October 15. Typically, our printer has a one-week turnaround time.

In other words, our deadline day is approaching quickly.

Given our publishing cadence, the end of each season is a whirlwind. First, get the magazine done. Then, reveal the cover—and send invites out to the Block Party. Finally, host said Block Party, and ship out orders.

Pop out to the Block Party on October 15!

During busy stretches like this, I often get stuck in a bit of a trap. Some nights, I’m looking at the clock, realizing it’s one in the morning—and I’ve been writing for fifteen hours straight. The goal is to create the best thing possible, but I also can’t afford to deplete myself of energy, and flop over the finish line.

Most creatives arrive at a version of this dilemma at some point in time. I think back to what guest contributor Connor Blodgett wrote in his essay from Issue Six:

“The focus now is more on the menu in the window rather than the meat of the meal…if you can’t get someone in the door, what’s the point of serving them something great?”

What I remind myself in these moments are all the long texts I’ve received and conversations that sprout from our stories. I think back to the twenty-year-old kid at our last Block Party, holding a DSLR and looking around the room, dumbfounded—as if he’d never been around other creatives before, brought together by this little magazine of ours.

It’s a funny thing, the way those words you write late into the night find their way to the right people. Even if it’s busy season now, I wanted to fit in one last column before we go into full magazine rollout mode.

Here’s Five Things I Think (I Think).

— NGL

P.S. Last blog, I explored three unique spaces, just a train ride away in Chicago. You can read it here.

One :: I think everyone wants to be a DJ—but no one wants to dance. Last week in our Slack, Moy shared an essay from singer/songwriter

Dani Offline

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This piece of cultural criticism has been gaining traction on Substack over the last month, and for good reason. In it, Dani posits a relatable thesis, a thesis that, itself, presents a paradox.¹

“Participation in the creations of others, for so many of us, has been made to feel like a means to an end.

We read books to become better writers, or so we can seem well-read. We listen to music to sharpen our influences and find our ‘target audience.’”

These lines hit on many levels. One of my foundational memories from reading Stephen King’s On Writing in eleventh grade was a simple piece of advice the legendary author shared: If you want to become a better writer, read (a lot).

I didn’t know then that writing would become my profession. But I always knew I loved to read, tearing through the Eragon books in second grade and A Song of Ice and Fire in middle school.²

Nevertheless, I’d be lying if I said that once creative work becomes your job, it’s easy to make time to enjoy art for fun—without feeling the need to justify your consumption. An invisible pressure follows: Am I consuming the “right” things? Should I consume (and share) more of what my readers want to see from me—or see from the idea of “me” they foster? Who says I deserve a podium, anyway?

everyone wants to be a DJ, no one wants to dance

To the latter point, I sometimes have to remind myself that I did go to journalism school. A degree only means as much as what you make of it; my friends and I often talk about how most of our former classmates aren’t even in journalism anymore (and we’re only four years out of undergrad). Yet I have been writing online for over a decade, and covering the creator world for five years now, at that. I’d like to think that counts for something.

Past pieces of paper we may or may not hold, Dani believes it’s a good thing that more people want to be creatives, as the “pursuit” has been democratized through various resources online. On the other hand, she writes, the term “artist” has increasingly become conflated with the term “entrepreneur.” And a lot of creatives don’t want to be entrepreneurs.

I sometimes believe that the Internet has flattened culture. But the Internet is just a tool, and it can only flatten culture if we let it. That’s why the message Dani ends with resonated so deeply: that we should place less value on the performance of artistry, and more value in enjoying art with others.

“I am most happy when I feel myself exist beyond any fixed identity or role. I am most happy when I feel lost in the things I create and love.

I’m no longer me, but part of something great and unstoppable.”

So where does marketing factor into this equation?

Two :: I think they got my boy Leo doing TikToks. A popular talking point of the One Battle After Another press junket has been onlookers’ surprise at Leonardo DiCaprio not only doing podcast sit-downs, but also chasing viral video trends with his Gen Z costar, Chase Infiniti.

The consensus take I subscribe to is that DiCaprio knows the movie is awesome. Therefore, he’s doing everything in his power to push the marketing machine in the six-month leadup to the Academy Awards (yup, 2026 might finally be the year Paul Thomas Anderson wins the big one).³

Where I net out is this: I wholeheartedly agree with Dani’s thesis. I also believe once you make the decision that, deep down, you want your art to be seen, a new threshold emerges, and it’s on you to flip the switch—and market the damn thing.

I know I’ve referenced that Tyler, the Creator quote several times in this newsletter, but it’s been six months since my last inclusion, and there’s a lot of new faces here.

“You went through something. You wrote words down. You figured it out in a structural format. Found music to go along with it. You recorded it.

And you mean to tell me that you’re going to be passive with your own sh*t and just put it on your story once? Are you f**king crazy bro?

I’m still promoting my album that came out [last] June! It’s a year out and I’m still out here!”

This July, Tyler released his latest album. DON’T TAP THE GLASS was a surprise project bound together by a single mission: Tyler just wanted people to dance.

With that, he held a no-phones album release party. Attendees were encouraged to lose themselves in the music, without a fear of being filmed—and running the risk of embarrassing Future Them in the process.

Tyler is clearly a talented marketer. But I think his message with DON’T TAP THE GLASS connected with so many because the people, quite simply, just want to dance.

To come full circle: Whether it’s a genuine belief your art might help someone; ego; or somewhere in between, if you would like something you made to be seen, then you owe it to yourself to pull out all the stops.

And if you don’t? Just remember that beating to the rhythm of someone else’s drum is a feat worth celebrating, and cherishing.

Three :: I think this mini-essay will serve as a non-sequitur. Speaking of DiCaprio, watching one of our most talented working actors film TikToks reminded me of a kid we randomly met downtown over the summer, as we filmed a video for Judd the Intern’s last day.

We were passing Millennium Park when the kid stopped us, noticing our crew’s assortment of camera gear. He told us he was visiting Chicago from Los Angeles, and wanted to know what to see in our city. Given the brainrot-adjacent words in his vernacular—and a blistering case of Gen Z stare—I knew he couldn’t have been older than twenty-three.⁴ And as soon as he insisted he teach us a dumb dance (and film a video with him), I said to myself, Ain’t no way this kid isn’t huge on TikTok.

I forgot about this brief encounter…until I opened Instagram a couple weeks later, and saw the same kid pop up in a Lyrical Lemonade video. As it turned out, the kid (who goes by the name “Max Evasion” online) was, in fact, both twenty-three and huge on TikTok. Additionally, that dumb dance is everywhere. It’s even been introduced into Fortnite.

@maxevasi0nNormal stomp

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Among the many celebrities Max has collaborated with, one of them features Bob Odenkirk—aka Saul Goodman from Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul—doing Max’s trademark “Stomp Dance” ahead of Odenkirk’s Nobody 2 premiere. I’m not sure where I was going with this non-sequitur, other than to share a funny, random story. But I feel like I landed somewhere along these lines: If Max Evasion can get Bob Odenkirk to do the Stomp Dance, then I believe we can all afford to just dance sometimes, too.

Four :: I think focusing is difficult when the world is on fire. Every time I open up my phone right now, I’m subjected to ICE committing a new human rights violation. And these videos aren’t depicting events in faraway places—many of them are documenting what’s going on mere miles away.

A prime example: At two a.m. last Tuesday, about three hundred ICE agents descended on an apartment building in the South Shore neighborhood of Chicago. Some of them even landed on the roof after descending from military-style helicopters.

They proceeded to force all residents of the building (which contains one hundred and thirty units) outside into unmarked vans, zip-tying their hands in the process. The agents had no warrants; they arrested thirty-seven people that night. When residents were eventually allowed to return to the building, their apartment units were left ransacked. One person, an Army veteran and former postal carrier of thirty years, told Block Club Chicago that ICE “left people’s doors open…firearms, money, whatever, right there in the open.”

Reading this was heart-breaking. Referring to the specific incident, one friend messaged me: Its getting real f**ked up.

One resident returned to their unit to find their door kicked down and a room destroyed by water damage / Photo by Colin Boyle

Over the next couple weeks, you’ll see me market our new magazine a lot. No bias, but it’s full of really great stories I stand behind, all from a wide variety of contributors. I’m proud of our work, and I think our team should be, too.

Nevertheless, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that part of my soul feels crushed every time I look up for a second, past my open Google Doc.

I recognize the immense privilege I have in getting to market this thing while the world is on fire. I don’t take it for granted. I once had a friend share their belief that businesses (and creative businesses in particular) are magic. A lot of focus and dedication is necessary to make that magic a reality.

But that heads-down focus and dedication sometimes feels like it comes with tradeoffs. I won’t claim to have any cut-and-dry solutions. I try to donate where (and when) I can. I don’t attend as many protests as I did in college. I do keep up with the news.

I’d like to think our magazine serves to inspire, to spark conversations—and encourage readers to touch some grass along the way. I think about our Show Your Work! nights, providing a lowkey space for a dozen folks to meet, and talk, and connect over their art. I think about that twenty-year-old kid at the Block Party, finding a place for himself in our little creative neighborhood.

And yet, I know there’s a lot more work to be done.

Five :: I think I’ll end with this. I spent a lot of time writing this weekend—at my apartment, the nearby library, and cafes.

Overheard at the latter: One woman explained the entire plot of Now You See Me to her partner. Who knew Jesse Eisenberg’s magic movies were so popular?

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

1. I’m telling ya, if you’re ever unsure of what stories to pursue, chase the paradox.

2. In retrospect: I was probably a little too young! Still, even if real heads don’t consider the last season of Game of Thrones to be canon, I will always believe that R+L=J.

3. It’s kinda wild that PTA has earned eleven Oscar noms without winning a single one. The Academy has really been drinking his milkshake.

4. Man, I’m really embracing my transition into Unc Status, huh?