The end of Things You Otter Know

Thank you for the last four years.

Well, as the subject line suggests: I’ve made the decision to end Things You Otter Know after nearly four incredible years of damkeeping.

In the near future, I’ll launch a new newsletter announcing future publications, cool public appearances, etc. No action is required on your part. You will all be brought over: after all, sea otters do not migrate long distances.

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In typical me fashion, below is a long-winded explanation for my decision.

I started this project halfway through my senior year of high school, as motivation to write more often after a really bad funk where I wasn’t writing at all. Never did I think we’d still be hanging out all these years later. I tend to end projects weeks after starting them—Substack taught me I had the capacity to see things through. It taught me to trust my voice and my instincts. That I could write the same sprawling long-form magazine-style essays I’ve always loved to read. I feel confident calling myself a writer of both poems and prose now. Some of this is because of the mental fortitude I gathered from 3.5 years of doubt this thing. But most of it is because of you.

Yes, you! Y’all made me fall in love with writing all over again, to the point where I wrote 200,000+ words just for this Substack! Like, WHAT?! What a thrill it was to know I could write about whatever I wanted—even things you maybe didn’t care about as much, like my favourite bands or Toronto or college football—and you would’ve read it anyway, because you trusted my vision and you liked the sound of my voice. Shit, man! It’s such a bummer, because I’ve loved this teeny tiny corner of the internet you’ve all helped build, but this year, maintaining it began to feel more like a chore than ever.

And I felt real bad, you know, consistently missing deadlines and sending out posts I didn’t really believe were worth your time. For so long I thought I could eventually get into a bit of a rhythm and publish consistently good stuff every week. It never happened, for various reasons.

I first gave serious thought to quitting near the end of 2024… I can’t explain it. It just felt right. You know that Taylor Swift song, “it’s time to go”? That’s how I felt. When you know, you know.

I thought about the paid subscription thing but it never felt right to me. I never wanted to play the digital writing game, the very thing that Substack as a platform is built around. I also thought about keeping TYOK alive till the end of this year, with a trial run of paid subs, but I knew I’d have a lot on my plate once September kicked in, and I didn’t want to go out with a whimper if I found I wasn’t able to deliver.

I’m a much better writer (especially in prose) because of these last four years, and what’s even wilder to me is now I know I can build up a small but dedicated audience because of all of you. But this Substack was never meant to become the thing for me as a writer. Only a thing. Treating Things You Otter Know as an online diary was never going to be sustainable. When it started to feel like too much was when I knew it was time to step back.

I also think, more broadly, I would like to become a little less online, and leaving Substack helps me do that. (Which isn’t to say I’ll stop reading all your sick Substacks! Please don’t take me quitting as a sign for you to quit, too!!)

Before you ask, I have no idea what my next venture will be; the future scares just as much as it excites me. Just like how my movement from Rick Riordan ripoffs to poems in the eighth grade felt strange but exciting. And so did my movement away from poems and towards this Substack four years ago. Those are the two chapters I use in my head to define my life as a writer.

I’m looking forward to figuring out what Act III will be.

Maybe it’s looking into other writing and publishing opportunities beyond Substack. And I still very much want to put out a book with my name on it one day. For the last year I’ve been slowly chiseling away at a poetry full-length. But some of you freaks have begged me to write the next Great Canadian Novel for YEARS, so who knows?!

The other thing is that my life is beginning to shift a little. In a year I’ll be graduating from the University of Toronto. Quitting Substack gives me more time to focus on figuring out what I want to do after graduation, and focus on landing a killer first job that starts after graduation and which lets me eat food and not die. At this strange crossroads of my life, where I feel more burnt out and unstable than ever, now feels like the right time to close this wonderful chapter and embrace a new one.

I deeply value the community we’ve built and I will forever be honoured that you care about my work. That’s why the new newsletter will keep you in the loop on all that. Eventually I will launch a fancy writer website when I start publishing again. Those who are extra tight with me—you likely have my Instagram and / or my email. I am planning on quitting Twitter in the near future and I’m trying to be more active on Bluesky. Hell, connect with me on LinkedIn!

ANYWAY. That should be everything. If you have questions just ask. All good things must come to an end, eh?

Fuck. Fuck!

This sucks! Why do I do these things to myself?! To all of you?

Ok. I’m gonna stop stalling. You can tell I really don’t wanna write this final paragraph. Deciding to do things is hard enough for me. Actually doing them is somehow fifty times worse.

Ugh. Deep breath.

It’s been a pleasure, Otters. You watched me grow up in real time—you have no idea what a gift that’s been for me. Trying to make you laugh, smile, and think every week was a privilege I’ll always hold dear. Thanks to my IRL homies who begged me to start TYOK in the first place, to James Tate Hill for giving this Substack a name, and to all of you, across 25 US states and 21 countries, who for all I know told your friends over lunch and in group chats and Discord servers about this Substack, and to everyone who’s ever commented on these posts (I screenshotted everything, including all of Colby’s). The last thing you otter know is that you know a lot already. And that you can use that knowledge to build a better world for yourself and each other, the way an otter builds a dam. I know you can because we did it here, in this little corner of the internet. Thank you for the last 4 years.