Edited by
.There were several reasons starting a Substack to write about my life twice a week for the entire internet to read didn’t make sense:
I had no social media following (and I’m trying to break my addiction)
I hadn’t written anything since an article in college titled A Broken Promise: The Situation of the Kurds in Mosul, 1917-1925
I already had a full-time job
My son was only six months old
I also didn’t know Aja — my Platonic Love co-author and founder — very well. She was “my friend’s friend,” someone I’d started to look forward to being around and having in my orbit. Before we started writing Platonic Love together, we would frequently go to yoga on Sunday mornings (hi, Ashley!) and grab coffee or a bite afterwards.
Over time, we’d started to divulge small secrets to each other. I began to feel like she was a person I could trust to help me work through challenges and insecurities.
At the same time, I’d recently become a mom — the first of most of my friends — and my world had been turned upside down. One day, flying back to Boston, I had a particularly infuriating experience, one that ratcheted up my heart rate and filled me with rage. It was my first time traveling without my son. When I tried to board early so I could set up my pumping equipment, the gate agent wouldn’t let me pass… necessitating I explain my situation as customers shifted behind me and my boobs throbbed.
The experience weighed on me for weeks — until I put it down on paper, where it started to feel illuminating and relatable rather than private and shameful.
I told Aja I’d written about pumping on a plane. “Publish it!” she encouraged me. And as we talked, we realized that experience was only the tip of the iceberg — we had so much we wanted to discuss with other women about transitioning from “twenty somethings” to adults with capital As. So we started Platonic Love.
Nearly a year later, here’s what it’s been like to write about myself on the internet:
1. It’s terrifying.
Since that first issue, I’ve published dozens of personal stories that make my chest tighten and my armpits sweat, from questioning what it means to bounce back after giving birth to admitting I’m a perfectionist.
Each issue goes through several rounds of revisions and edits, a time for Aja and I to sense-check my ideas, develop the flow, and tighten every sentence — but the night before it goes out, I still read it two, three, or ten (!) more times. And as soon as the email hits my inbox, I’m reading it again. As if, in doing so, I could control how you reacted to it.
Then I take a deep breath, and remind myself why I’m doing this.
2. Vulnerability has fostered connection.
More than anything, I’m proud of — and grateful for — the way writing about my self and life online has brought me closer to my IRL community.
I was nervous the first time I wrote about a conflict with Sam.
“What did you think?” I asked, my voice hesitant, as he read through an early draft.
“I love it,” he said. “It makes me really, really proud of us — to see that you understand me too.”
And before writing about how to help a friend through grief (one of the issues Aja and I are proudest of), my best friend Margie and I spent over an hour on the phone talking through some of the most difficult and significant moments in our twenty-plus year friendship.
This past year, as Sam and I transitioned from unencumbered thirty-ish-year-olds to parents, could’ve easily been one of the most isolating of my life… especially because we’re one of the first people in our friend group to have kids. But thanks to Platonic Love, and the consistent vulnerability it requires from me, I feel more comfortable than ever bringing up sensitive topics, insecurities, and off-the-wall ideas with my close family and friends. And they always respond well to that too.
On a related note…
3. It’s put the “getting to know you” process into hyper-drive.
In December, while Aja and I were shopping on Newbury Street, I glanced at Find My Friends and realized my friend Charlotte was a few blocks away. The three of us ended up getting coffee at the Capital One Cafe (surprisingly good lattes!) and talking for a few hours.
“That was my first time hanging out with Aja,” Charlotte said later. I almost couldn’t believe it — the conversation had flowed so naturally, far from an “it’s nice to meet you” first friend date.
“I think it’s because it already feels like I know her,” Charlotte said.
I had a similar experience last week getting sushi with Aja, Lacey, and their friend Julie. It was my first time meeting Julie, but the conversation was intimate from the jump — because she reads Platonic Love, we skipped the basic facts and delved into big topics, like burnout at work, how people can afford to buy houses, and our partners’ relationships to our friends.
4. Sometimes it feels like Aja and I are sharing a brain.
This is one of the coolest (and most unexpected) parts of the creative relationship.
In addition to being influenced into buying the same pair of pants last month, Aja and I’ll often text each other something or send a voice note, only to hear back, “You read my mind” or “I was just thinking about that!”
It’s always a bright spot in my week.
5. But that doesn’t mean our relationship is conflict-free.
, author of , recently asked us if we’d ever experienced a rough patch.We’ll share more from the full interview soon, but I appreciate how Aja summed it up: “We’ve published more than 75 issues, launched three series, collaborated with dozens of Substackers, and even created an eight-week friendship training program,” she said. “It’s been a lot of work — and a lot of fun — but figuring out how to balance it with everything else in our lives has, at times, led to tension.”
Aja and I’ve both gotten stressed as Thursday nears and the essay isn’t in a good place, or when one of us has an intense week at work or sick kid and can’t contribute as much.
We’ve had to get more comfortable talking through how we’re feeling and getting creative about solutions. If anything, it’s proof that tough conversations can serve to foster intimacy and trust.
In our shared enthusiasm for the project, we’ve mutually agreed deadlines and commitments are serious — and relatively set.
6. Now my family can relate to my work.
While I’ve always known my family was proud of me, I also knew they didn't really understand my job (“like TurboTax for your student loans”) or the typical work-day.
Now, nearly every Thursday, I get a call from my grandmother: “You don’t know how much I wish I’d had this when I was your age!” she says, or, “I loved what Aja said today about makeup!”
I’ve noticed my friends (particularly the ones I don’t typically talk to each day) are quicker to reach out, too — asking for podcast and book recommendations, sharing their reaction to one of our pieces, or checking in on how something I’d talked about in the newsletter went.
And I’ll often ask my mom to read something before I publish it. On several occasions — like this essay on aging or this one on main character energy — she’s given me the perspective I needed to pull it all together.
7. It’s an exercise in self-awareness.
There are so many writers and creators I idolize. When I first started writing Platonic Love, I (sometimes subconsciously, sometimes intentionally) tried to borrow the elements of their craft I appreciated most —
’s quick wit and humor, ’s incredible cultural analysis, ’s social critique — but because those elements don’t come as naturally to me, they inevitably fell flat on the page.It took time to find what worked for me. I’ve learned that writing my first draft by hand forces me out of my head, so I can avoid the comparison game and be immersed in the creative process.
And my style is telling personal — sometimes cringe-worthy — stories and drawing meaning from the mundane.
Since the earliest days, Aja and I’ve used a simple check to evaluate topics for Platonic Love: Is it something we’d bring up with our best friends over coffee?
8. I love making — and featuring — our friends!
Platonic Love has helped Aja and I strike up several “online to real” relationships with writers like
of , of , and Lilly ofI’ve also made some truly bonkers connections — like when
of and I realized, after connecting online, she was the niece of a long-time family friend, or two of my closest and oldest friends told me I had to talk to of . (They were right!)I’ve also gotten to collaborate professionally with friends I’ve had for many years — like my friend Justine, an artist and founder of the kids’ clothing brand Mmoody Kids, and
, travel writer for the Washington Post and author of the newsletter .This year, we’re aiming to continue learning from other writers (we’ve formed an informal writer’s group / text thread with
and ) and feature even more creators. (If you’re interested in partnering with us, shoot us an email at aliza@platonicloveletter.com and aja@platonicloveletter.com.)Before you go…
We’re a week into the Friendship Training Program! How’s it going so far? Let us know in the comments — we’re gonna share updates of our own (like what happened when Aja tried prompt #4).
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This was *so* relatable. And I bet this peek behind the scenes will demystify the newsletter-writing process for others who want to jump in 🤗 Possibly my favorite part: that your grandmother calls you regularly to dish about Platonic Love!
bravo to starting a substack and writing beautiful (helpful) personal essays! 👏