better work issue #25

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It’s easy to think of creative hunger as a desire for more.

You’re missing that one key insight. That masterclass. That strategist to pave the way.

But 2025 taught me one thing for certain:
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​A full plate can leave you starving.
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I learned this the hard way last summer. My calendar was packed for my trans-Pacific move. Client work was humming along. I’d been studying newsletters and writing for months.
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My goals were on track. I was halfway through my promise: to publish this newsletter twice a month for the year. But no matter what I took in or on, the remaining newsletters weren’t flowing like the first half did.
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Three truths hit me at once:
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1. I was keeping my promise.
2. I knew writing the final twelve issues would be like army crawling on hot asphalt.
3. I didn't want to do that crawl solo.

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I needed something money couldn’t buy → genuine connection.

Not another LinkedIn connection request, subscribe, or follow.

I craved bonding.

And I'm not alone in this.
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​We’re in a loneliness epidemic. We yearn for real, face-to-face connection but fear we’re a burden, especially when we’re pulled between caring for kids and aging parents.
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People want community, but the 'how' escapes them.
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I hear this in so many virtual and in-person meet-ups. Showing up doesn't mean shared purpose. You have to have both.
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The nourishment we need can only come from common ground.
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What I was actually hungry for

I started thinking about writing my newsletter like preparing for a marathon.

The two have overlap:

• The hardest part is starting.
• The second hardest part is not stopping.

I was capable of writing (/running) alone but enjoyment came from being witnessed, and endurance feels bearable when you're in community.
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It’s the difference between looking to your side and being entirely alone, and looking to your side to see someone who’s also pouring sweat that mouths, “Keep going!”
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I was hungry for people who understood my needs without having to justify them.
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But everything I found was centered on transaction: strategy I didn’t need, or members-only groups where the main filter was cash.
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So I started a newsletter group myself. I was testing whether structure plus shared purpose could do what a strategy and money couldn't.
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I pulled together four newsletter creators. We had different audiences, different offerings, and different styles. They didn't know each other (I only knew one person well). The group only worked if everyone fully participated; if one person dropped the ball, then the group would fall apart. It was risky, but my gut told me to keep going.​
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And the risk paid off.

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We committed to four months and eight meetings, all 90-minute sessions. Fortunately, everyone had a positive experience and felt highly engaged. But they didn’t get what they paid for because...they didn’t pay for it.

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It was $0. Our currency was our commitment to each other.
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‘Free’ doesn’t mean something is without value. My experiment proved as much.
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Money is an important motivator, but it's not the most important. (The correlation between job satisfaction and pay is pretty weak.)
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We ask ourselves at work and at home, whether we’re trying to positively influence a team member or a toddler: If money isn’t motivating enough, what can be?
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​Connection. It's what keeps us nourished.

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How you get your fill

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You can’t force someone to feel connection, but you can curate a space where it naturally flourishes. These four principles made our meet-ups feel like a high-achiever's paradise.

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1. Select for responsibility over expertise.

I didn't give two shits about their years of writing experience or the size of their email lists. I selected people based on how they demonstrated responsibility.
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When they said they would email or DM me, they actually did. When they said they would show up, they were on time and not distracted. When I asked them a question, they provided thoughtful answers. This seems so basic, but it's getting harder to find people who can do the basic things well.

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​2. Remove the price tag, remove the performance.

People with high standards don’t need money to keep them accountable. When real value is there, so are we. Money can muddy that truth; it can gatekeep people who are important for chemistry. It can kill the connection we crave.

Or money can put too much pressure on doing too much. It's easy to fall into the trap of adding more 'stuff' to make it 'worth it.'
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3. Leave nowhere to hide.

In a group of five, there was real intimacy. If we didn’t keep our feedback sharp or tried to wing a hot seat, there was no denying it. So everyone came prepared to every session. We depended on each other to be successful.

Keep the group small and refined. Your filters should have filters.
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​4. Ritualize the space.

We knew our ethos ahead of the first call: hitting our goals and giving honest, actionable feedback. We named them collectively, then they were baked into our opener, our agenda, and our feedback. There was no Slack chat or constant communication. Ritual held us together.
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Appetite + attendance = connection

My hypothesis for 2026 is that people will invest in long-term commitments with simple structures. Our calendars are sacred, and desire alone isn’t enough.
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Too many competing priorities, hours in the day too limited.

Instead of trying to stuff in more, consider what you’re hungry for. Then consider what you’ve already consumed and mistaken for “connection.” (e.g., social media feeds make us even more insatiable. The scroll = empty calories.)

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Find or make a healthy (but delicious) way to satisfy that need connection. (Find it early too. Because value compounds.)

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But if people don’t know who you are, how do you gain trust if no one really knows you in this new type of capacity?

You show up and you keep offering connection.​
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Show up whether or not other people do.
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Show up so much you feel inconvenienced by it.

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Show up so much it makes your introverted self want to hide.

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You know it’s working when you start hearing, “I see you everywhere.”
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Not because you actually are everywhere and doing everything. But because you are showing up everywhere in the places where your people are.

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Because at the end of the day, the people who show up for you are not your followers or your coworkers.

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The people who show up for you are the flesh-and-blood people around you. Who will sit with you, at your table, without reservations.

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Take care of yourself,

Susan