Build Mode: Final Update

This is the final post in the “Build Mode” series, which documents my month-long creative sabbatical. You can view past updates here: Update 1 and Update 2.

It’s May 1st, which means Build Mode, aka Make Month, is over. It’s time to stop role-playing as Elizabeth Gilbert and get paid.

A version of that thought came to me this morning as I lay in the half-awake, half-asleep state where those feelings tend to emerge. It faded, though, once I acclimated to the day, had some caffeine, and queued up “Special” by D.R.A.M.—my snowflake anthem of the month (parental warning).

It’s been a damn good month, and I’m not quite ready to let it go. But reality has a way of knocking, and this freewheeling lifestyle probably isn’t sustainable unless I can find a Medici-style sugar daddy (shoutout Luke for that line) or Renee becomes the next Esther Perel. So, I’ll need to adapt, pivot, and make compromises. And that’s okay.

But before I look ahead, I want to reflect on what I learned, felt, and stumbled into this month. What follows is a loose mix of moments and small wins.

Field Notes

I was mostly successful, making zero dollars, with the exception of a small gig helping my carpenter friend Matt prep a job site. I think he pitied me… and had the wisdom to get me out of my head.

I also got paid for an unexpected dog-sitting gig. The joke’s on them—I would’ve paid to rent their dog. Speaking of dogs, Renee and I joke about humans getting the “zoomies,” that wild burst of joy dogs get. I’ve had the zoomies a lot this month.

My friend Ashton, aka thoughtfulness embodied, left a book at my door this week. Just two pages in, I highlighted this line: “It taught me that if you’re in conversation with the self, you can be in conversation with the world.” I think I’ve been a better person this month because I’ve been having that conversation.

Nine distant connections or strangers invited me to coffee or a Zoom call, which is more than in any other month of my life. It confirmed what I’d guessed: creating and sharing draws more opportunities than cold outreach or traditional networking. I’ve labeled it the “gravity model” of career. The 2016 version of Max might’ve called it inbound marketing.

I came across the work of a few philosophical siblings online this month. Jonathan is exploring a similar experimental creative path, decades ahead of me. While Sam turned his love of creative quests into a career. My ego weeps when I see my ideas aren’t original, but my spirit loves the camaraderie.

Information moves through me at an alarming velocity. Writing these newsletters has slowed me down and given me a way to filter and digest it. It also spares my friends from a barrage of texts every time I find something I love, like this haunting James Blake song, the art of picture embroidery, or this trove of public-domain nature illustrations (which I’m using in my site redesign).

I thought I’d spend the month building web tools and launching online projects. Instead, I kept coming back to writing. It’s an astonishingly powerful and fluid tool. I’m realizing I thrive in creative mediums that are lower-fidelity and more flexible rather than something like web development.

Writing surprised me. I smiled and even giggled at times. I’ve been writing on and off publicly for nine years, but this month felt different. There’s joy in finding the right phrase or a good metaphor. It’s gratifying when the words on the page match your inner voice. I haven’t tried fiction yet, but I think I might.

I’m learning to appreciate how my brain works. More than ever, I want to find spaces that value my divergent, curious, and connective way of thinking. I’m working not just to accept those traits, but to nurture my weirdness.

Thinking in Stories

I’m reading The Science of Storytelling, a book about how we use narrative to make sense of ourselves and the world. That idea stuck with me, so I wrote a version of my own story—where I’ve been and where I might be headed. It helped me connect a few dots and get a better sense of direction. My hope is that it helps potential collaborators find and understand me too.

You can read it here.

So, what’s next?

In short, more of the same. I’ll keep writing and creating—just without the “Build Mode” label. But I also need to start asking a real question: how does money fit into this?

I’ll likely pause the tech-heavy projects and focus on meeting more people. I’ve realized I’d rather collaborate than build something on my own. I’ll map out the roles and places where I think I’ll thrive and start building relationships around them.

If an exciting opportunity shows up, I’ll take it. If I make something that takes off, I’ll run with it. I might pick up some paid consulting along the way, but I’ve still got the runway to explore. I’m playing the long game—writing, creating, sharing—and feeling my way forward, one step at a time.