In October 2023, I posted my first call to Bring Out Your Dead on Substack. I was looking for a place where I could sort my thoughts about an increasingly mad world in long-form writing, and maybe find some like minds with whom to enter into conversation about what was no longer working for me, for my community, for the world. I wrote about anything and everything — from Disney Princesses and Formula 1 to Plato, dog wisdom, and Taylor Swift. It was a fun flail. Total spaghetti at a wall. It amused me. Some of you seemed to like it too, despite its lack of clear vision.

The dead ideas rotting in the attics of our increasingly tech-addled brains are still mounting on a daily basis. They are bigger and increasingly existential, as my recent writing here indicates. Society is struggling and on the precipice of a shift. We perhaps understand less about who we are devolving into as a species than we did three years ago, but we know we are less happy and less connected. Life moves pretty fast. Self-reflection and social change are long and stubborn processes when time is at a premium.

But in that time, I have managed to focus my efforts, find my voice, remember my training, and find kindred spirits among the writers and readers of my newsletter and others on the platform. I remembered why I chose anthropology as my profession thirty years ago. I remembered that I am fascinated by humanity’s essential flaws and endless capacities in equal measure. I remembered that this world has never liked women. And I remembered that I don’t need permission to explain my perspective on injustice. Writing that speaks to people outside your own head is a real rush. Small victories.

Now, for the bummer. I have also watched in real time what happens when a platform finds success, gamifies participation, and turns readership into another form of social media in which the original purpose becomes incidental to audience. I recognized the pattern. I got off Facebook eight years ago when I got into a fight in the comments with a Millennial pastor about women’s bodily autonomy. I got off Instagram three years ago when “having an author platform” meant me scrolling for hours late at night and buying too many products that were in severe disproportion to the number of likes I was getting on the poetry I published there. Neither were good looks for me.

Substack has been no different. The changes that the platform has made have been a boon for the writers who are willing to play the game, optimize the tools, be in people’s faces all day, and build topical alliances (or who are getting paid by Substack to do so). Notes and Live video are the art form now, not actual writing. It is a full-time job, but it is not mine. It all makes my nervous system rev too high. I have no illusions about getting “discovered” and “going viral.” I am still not sure what makes that happen. Maybe that is a personal deficiency. Maybe that is an unwillingness to play because I know myself and I have too many facial quirks for video. I am okay with either. Maybe I only want to write when I actually have something to say and have had the time to think it through.

The point: As of July 1, 2026, I am moving all of my long form writing to Ghost. Same content, more focus, different location on the internet.

You can find me at:

bringoutyourdead.ghost.io

If you are not familiar, Ghost is a true writer/creator platform. Some of my favorite writers and thinkers are already there. Tangle, by Isaac Saul is there, as is The Long Now Foundation, both of which I have written about in my previous posts. The Atlantic has set up shop there for a few of its department publications. It is a place where long-form writing can breathe without the gamification of social media.

The user interface will feel familiar. And as a reader, you have to do nothing. Your subscriber information will transfer directly to the new platform, so my writing will show up in your inbox the way it always has. If you are not already on my subscriber list, hit the link above after July 1, and sign up!

The Subscriber Fine Print:

Paid and Founding Subscribers: (There are seven of you.❤️) Your payments have been halted on my Substack page. You will not be billed again. Thank you for trusting me with your money and time.

I am leaving the paywall down on the new Ghost site for a month or so. After that, everyone will have the option to decide for themselves if they want to continue to be a paid subscriber or not. If so, you will need to sign up for paid subscriptions on Ghost.

Subscriber rates on Ghost will feel similar to what they were on Substack. Signing up will look like this:

AND, Ghost has a cool feature that Substack lacked.

In every post, there will be a tip link so that you can make a one-time donation to my work, if ever a particular post speaks to your soul, without the commitment of monthly. No pressure.

However, if you have stronger philosophical convictions that intellectual labor has value and should not be given away for free, you can always become a monthly or yearly member, as part of the Coffee Club or as a serious Systems Thinker.

(Let’s be real. Who would you rather pay, me or Jeff Bezos? I have kids in college. He has phallic symbols to launch and botox to refresh.)

I will still be hanging around in the Notes on Substack, just with different purpose. I will be reading and commenting on the excellent writing of the people I have come to know and trust there. (, , , , , , , , , , to name a few) There is so much brilliant writing on diverse topics I am thrilled to learn about. It challenges my brain with unique perspectives and knowledge in the best ways.

I hit 200 subscribers this month on Substack. Small potatoes in the subscriber game, but meaningful to me. After three years of completely inconsistent writing on completely inconsistent topics connected by very loose threads, and I finally know what I want to do with this thing. Thank you to all 200 of you who saw something in what I was doing. You are the best.

I have a lot more to say. That has never been a question. But I am ready to say it from a different soap box in a park that feels more like me. I’m excited for what’s to come! I hope you will join me there.

Consider yourself Ghosted.

-IWW