What’s Next?

… and other questions we shouldn’t ask. Plus my Word of 2025.

I’ve been taught from a young age that my value has nothing to do with me. I am measured by yard sticks held by others. Society tells me what I am worth by the services I provide, the level of output of those services, and, in turn, how that service is reviewed. I quantified my inherent goodness by how happy I made other people.

How do I make my mom proud of me?
How do I get everyone to like me?
What painstaking steps can I take (or avoid) in order to make sure nothing I say is misinterpreted?

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
I’d add that the road to self-love doesn’t lead to others’ approval.

I began writing this post before the Golden Globes where, incidentally, Demi Moore touched on a lot of the things I have found myself saying. Both to myself and as part of the author presentation I would give while on my book tour.

One of the slides from my author presentation I gave on the Taylor Swift Style book tour. A core memory, IYKYK.

Right behind “What’s with all the plaid?”, the second most asked question I’ve received since Taylor Swift Style was published in October is: “What’s next?”

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There’s a higher part of my brain that understands this question is not intended to be harmful. Objectively, I can gather it’s meant to be flattering. The precedent of the question is that the services you’ve provided thus far have generated interest, curiosity, and excitement. Inquiring about the path that lies ahead indicates a buzzy desire to support whatever work is yet to come.

But there is a darker undercurrent to the question, “What’s next?”. It’s the same undercurrent that informed my childhood parameters for goodness and value.

It belies the bottomless expectation for your labour to be commodified and your efforts to be unrelenting. Asking this question of someone in the midst of promoting their current project is akin to asking a pregnant person when they intend to have their next child. There is an undeniable onus of the question: Pauses are not permissible.

The implication is that in order to assure that the interest, curiosity, and excitement you’ve garnered continues, so too must your output. In the chaos of my brain - raised on well-meaning compliments that reinforced seeking external quantifiers of my achievement - it meant that the yard sticks were out. And I would need to measure up. Ad nauseam.

That question also inevitably opened itself up to other questions. Questions that make assumptions that these things matter. And if they don’t, they should start to. And if they already do, it’s vital you do everything you can to maintain the façade.