Coffee Chats ☕ January 4, 2026


Happy New Year!

I don't know about you guys, but I'm feeling good about 2026 (well—at least as long as I ignore current events and the fact that it was almost 60ºF where I'm at today). Maybe it's just that January magic talking, and all my dreams will be dashed against the rocks soon—but I'm hopeful for this year. I've got all my goals lined up, and they seem achievable. I don't know how things will turn out, of course, and, frankly, I've stopped trying to know, after last year. Time will tell, I guess. But I do know is that at least one of my major life goals will be accomplished this year—finishing a final draft of a novel—and if no other goal of mine is met, that would still be enough.

But, like, obviously I'd like to do some other stuff this year too. One of the things I'd really like to improve on is my correspondence. Though it may come as a surprise to some readers, given the fact that this is a newsletter in which I frequently over communicate, if you know me well—and, let's be real, most of you do—you know that I'm pretty bad at responding to messages. Okay—really bad. Fine! Terrible. Happy??

I have a lot of excuses for this, some of which I think are pretty good. Like: Norms around communication haven't evolved as quickly as technology, and our constant availability to one another has cheapened what it means to connect. Or: Cultivating the necessary mindfulness and mental state for creative work is challenging in the best of circumstances, and constant distraction by text, email, instant messages, and more is antithetical to reaching it. Also: I just don't prefer texting as a means of communication. Pretty convincing, right? No? Oh. Well...fair. I guess I'm really not convinced either.

What it comes down to is that sometimes it's a little overwhelming to sort through 50-100 messages a day, which is what I receive on average. It can be distracting, or exhausting, and even feel like a chore to get through. That's not unreasonable. But—say it with me—leaving people's messages unopened for days or weeks at a time is rude, Corbett. And I'm also not doing anything to make it easier for myself. So I'm going to fix that.

I was joking, today, about wishing I could just set office hours for correspondence, and then, as I said it, I was like...why not? Why not just set aside time each day to respond to messages and emails? That sounds great, actually. It doesn't force me to try to respond while I'm focused on other things, but it also doesn't allow messages to sit for more than a day, causing me to spiral about sending a response (a common conversation in my head is: "Oh, it's been a week since they messaged me? I can't respond now, because [insert overthinking here]..."). So, I'm trialing out the following: I'll spend thirty minutes on weekday evenings responding to all the messages I've received in the past 24-hours. And thus, all the worlds problems will be solved!

"Now, Corbett," you might be saying, "isn't this newsletter about writing? What does any of this have to do with anything?"

And to that I say: One—that's a little rude. I'm having a breakthrough moment and you're ruining it. Two, if you've been around a while, you know I use this as free therapy (and if you're new, then...um...surprise!). Three, making grand public commitments here clearly works—it's how I wrote a novel—so let me cook. And four, it is about writing.

I write stories for people. For myself, always—it's how I think and process things best. But when I fill a story with my thoughts and ideas and emotions and hopes and fears and beliefs and anxieties and dreams, I'm obviously hoping that all of what I put in there will connect with someone else, too. It's the same with this newsletter, which I stuff full of what's inspiring me at any given moment. And—though I've tried to ignore it, or pretend like it's not—it's the same with texts, and emails, and all of the other correspondence I shirk.

What I'm saying is this: if I write things to connect with people, then the little moments of immediate connection should matter to me too. I'd like to start treating them as such—and I think that maybe, just maybe, leaning into that connection will also benefit my storytelling. I don't know. We'll see. At the very least, I'll get to talk to the people I care about more.

Good luck with your own goals! I believe in you!

☕ Project Curses

After slowing down for a bit over the holidays, I was grateful to have time for some really productive writing days this last week—so productive that I'm down to the last 20,000 words of the revision, which means I'm closing in on the 90% mark. By the next time I write to you, I expect I'll have finished this draft!

That's very exciting, obviously—but it's not the end of the road. There are a few more steps before the novel is "done", which I'll go over next time. But—but!—this will have hopefully been the most challenging and time intensive part of the process, and having that done will be something to celebrate.

Novel Progress Bar

% revised

♟️ Project Rift

Now that I'm through a busy December and most of this major revision of Curses, my co-author and I are ready to renew work on Project Rift! Ramping up will take some time, but I expect I'll be making steady progress on this new novel-length project again by the end of the month.

Novel Progress Bar

% drafted

📚 Reading

Appleseed by Matt Bell | I picked this up on a whim while researching writing programs and was quickly swept away by the story—or the stories: three separate narratives, one set in the 1700s, one in the second half of the 21st century, and another far, far in the future, all of which weave together in weird, frightening, and wonderful ways. It delivered on the promise of being a retelling of the Johnny Appleseed legend, but also gave me so much more. I think this summary says it all better than I can:

"Hugely ambitious in scope and theme, part speculative epic, part tech thriller, part reinvented fairy tale, Appleseed is an unforgettable meditation on climate change; corporate, civic, and familial responsibility; manifest destiny; and the myths and legends that sustain us all."

🎧 Listening

artist
Daybreak • Sven Wunder
Setting Off • Sven Wunder
PREVIEW
Spotify Logo
 

Sven Wunder | I listen to a lot of instrumental music these days—everything from film and game scores to ambient and minimalist compositions to synth tunes and lofi beats, switching it up depending on my mood and the tone of the scene I'm writing. Amongst all of that, though, Sven Wunder has become a staple for me. His albums sound like they've been made for something, though they haven't; they're unique, and particular, and self-contained. I think of them as scores for things I haven't yet experienced. That's wonderful for writing, obviously, but also for reading, or going out on a walk, or just laying back and looking up at the ceiling.

🍿 Watching

Wake Up Dead Man | I've really enjoyed all of Rian Johnson's Knives Out mysteries, but this newest entry may have become my favorite. That could be recency bias, but this film was also just dialed into my tastes, from the types of mysteries it was inspired by to its more reflective, philosophical tone. The cast was also fantastic, with Josh O'Connor's performance, in particular, sticking with me. Highly recommend!

For today's Show & Tell I have a fun fact I stumbled across this week: Did you know that in the 18th century, super-wealthy European landowners would hire men to live in purpose-built hermitages on their property where they would be fed and cared for in exchange for providing advice to the owner and their guests and/or cultivating an aesthetic of simple and natural living? Because I didn't, and jeez. These guys were essentially used as ornamentation. Like garden gnomes, but, you know. People.

The super-wealthy have always been performative, out-of-touch, and just freaking weird, I guess. Anyway—I'm writing a story about this now. That happens, sometimes; you'll just stumble across a random fact, and it will slot into a bunch of other ideas like final a puzzle piece. I'll keep you posted on if that goes anywhere.

In the meantime, if you or any of your super wealthy friends are looking for a live-action garden gnome, hit me up.

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