The Stratagem’s Archive

Category: The Creative Process

  • Letters From the Void #5: ‘Tis the Season of Procrastination — November Edition

    Welcome, Fellow Archivists, to another irregular update from The Stratagem’s Archive. A lot has been happening behind the scenes — not all productive, but enough to share, especially since it ties back to my earlier post, What If Everything Just Stopped? What’s Next for The Stratagem’s Archives?

    I’ve recently taken a few steps back from posting consistently like before. My mind needed a break from the creative burn-out I dug myself into. Thankfully, the compulsion to constantly write and publish has dulled a bit, and I can think with less judgment — a nice feeling, though not the main point of this update.

    Procrastination, Projects, and ChatGPT

    Instead of publishing like a maniac, I’ve been quietly cleaning up The Stratagem’s Archive — making it easier to navigate, compiling all 118 posts into relevant pages, and finishing my ebook.

    I went into this thinking, “I can do this in a dedicated day. It’s going to be easy!”

    Nope.

    Instead, your grade-B dumbass here (emphasis on the B) hit multiple creative speed bumps:

    • Messing around with ChatGPT while contemplating the point of flirting and attraction because my asexual, inexperienced, and socially awkward ass needs explicit communication.
    • Finishing six half-done ebook drafts on Canva and avoiding them like they were cursed.
    • Printing two more sticker designs because, well, they exist now.
    • Printing 50 official blog/business cards to feel “professional.”
    • Staring at my iPad like it owed me rent money.

    The Art of Resting Without Quitting

    Here’s what I’ve realized: procrastination isn’t always the enemy. Sometimes it’s your brain saying, “maybe I don’t need to be in survival mode 24/7.”

    I’ve spent months building, writing, and publishing like my existence depended on it — and maybe it did, in a way. But there’s a difference between living to prove you can and living because you want to.

    So if my projects take longer to finish… if I stare at a blinking cursor longer than I write a sentence… if I talk to ChatGPT instead of publishing a new post — that’s okay.

    I’m still here. Still showing up in my own way. And maybe that’s what growth actually looks like: slow, unglamorous, and perfectly imperfect.

    Reflection for Fellow Archivists

    • When was the last time you let yourself pause without guilt?
    • How do you balance productivity and self-compassion?
    • What small progress can you celebrate this week, even if it feels like nothing?

    Take a moment to sit quietly with these questions, or maybe jot down a few thoughts.

    Closing Note

    If this newsletter made you laugh, sigh, or feel a little less alone in your creative chaos, give it a like, share it with a friend, or just let it linger in your mind for a bit.

    And to everyone who keeps reading, commenting, subscribing, or simply following along quietly — thank you for spending a small piece of your time here, in The Stratagem’s Archive.

    Here’s to all of us learning to rest without quitting, one messy draft at a time.

    Check Out Past Letters Below

    Letters from the Void Newsletter

    A Mini Ebook for Action: Introducing The Stratagem’s Manifesto 2.0

    The Stratagem’s Manifesto 1.5: You’re Not Falling Behind—You’re Growing

    The Stratagem’s Manifesto 1.0–You’re Not Falling Behind—You’re a Work in Progress

  • The Writings on the (Rage Room) Walls — Are We Striving to Leave Something Behind?

    The Walls Are Covered in Writing From Ceiling to Floor

    When I first started working at the rage room part-time months ago, two things immediately caught my eye:

    1) how my eyes burned from how bright the black lighting was.

    2) how much history—from names to social handles to straight-up graffiti—had been scrawled across every wall and ceiling over the four years this place has been open.

    As I became an employee, I never questioned why people were more excited to write on the walls than to break plates or spray neon paint.

    It took me over five months to realize something quietly profound—somewhere between the crashes of sledgehammers on glass and the clang of crowbars on wood.

    I started to wonder:

    Why do we write books? Compose songs? Build companies? Contribute to something larger, even in small ways?

    And then it hit me.

    I was asking the same question I’d been quietly asking about my own blog, The Stratagem’s Archive.

    Is my blog really all that different from a rage room wall—an ever-growing collage of words, reflections, and fleeting marks? An attempt to leave something behind, knowing it could just as easily be painted over one day?

    The more I thought about it, the more I realized how similar it was. The excitement of writing something meaningful, not knowing who will see it—or if anyone ever will. And yet, we do it anyway.

    Maybe, in the end, we’re all just trying to leave some kind of proof that we were here.

    People’s Excitement is Palpable Towards Those Bright Neon Pens

    Every group that’s come through before and after my time here has one thing in common: they always write something on the walls.

    I’ve seen names, birthdays, and declarations of love written in neon pinks and greens. I’ve seen angry messages—“I hate your guts and hope you suffer”—scribbled right next to doodles of anime characters or someone’s best friend’s name with a heart around it.

    Once, a couple came in for their anniversary. After their session, they asked if they could write on the walls. I said yes.

    When I checked back, I saw their names written in a gorgeous, looping scrawl right across the mural of angel wings—the one spot we ask people not to touch because it’s meant for photos and memories.

    My coworker wiped it off minutes later. We both knew it had to go. But as the ink faded, I couldn’t stop wondering if, for that couple, those few neon words were their way of saying, “We were here. We loved. We lived.”

    When I brought that up, my 21-year-old coworker told me, “Don’t think too hard about it.”

    So, naturally, I thought too hard about it—and wrote this instead.

    Would It Be So Wrong to Not Be Remembered?

    Let’s ask something uncomfortable:

    Would it really be so bad if we weren’t remembered?

    We’ve built entire systems to preserve names—colleges, hospitals, parks, cars, snack brands. Hershey. Ford. John Hopkins. Epicurus. Confucius. We build monuments to the idea of being remembered.

    But what if the quiet act of living fully was enough?

    I don’t advertise my real name anywhere on my blog. I don’t have social media. I’m practically a ghost in the modern world. And honestly? I like it that way.

    Sure, The Stratagem’s Archive is public. Anyone can stumble across it, read my reflections, and wander through my archives. But this is my mask. My little corner of anonymity and freedom.

    I don’t want to be famous. I just want to leave something honest behind—something that glows quietly for a while before it fades under the next coat of paint.

    Because maybe that’s enough.

    Maybe we don’t need to be remembered forever—just long enough for our light to touch someone else’s, even for a moment.

    Reflection and Call to Action

    Thanks for spending a few minutes here in the Archive with me. If this reflection sparked something in you, share it, like it, or subscribe to follow along for more quiet musings, prompts, and experiments.

    Or, if you’d rather stay anonymous, you can always send me your thoughts directly at—whatimtryingoutnow@gmail.com—I read every message. Whether you write publicly or quietly, we all leave our marks somewhere.

    Here’s to leaving them with intention, even if they someday fade.

    Reflections of Rage Rooms and Memories: