The one piece of advice I've given to writers more than any other is: just say what happened.
So, here's what happened: In 2010, I took a job with The Atlantic and it turned out to be everything one could hope a job would be.
My colleagues became my best friends. The publication grew, and my profile grew along with it, both inside and outside the company. I got the opportunity to hire a bunch of brilliant people. I discovered my voice as a writer, which is a cliche thing that is also a real thing. I covered so many interesting stories. My work has been so, so satisfying. On the weekends, left to my own devices, I would write—that is to say I would work—because I love it. Monday mornings were exciting.
I would wake up in the dim light of an Oakland dawn and dial in to the morning conference call, imagining my colleagues gathered around the starfish microphone thingy that almost works. Then I would start in on the work, and before I knew it, it was 3 p.m. or 4 p.m. The days, the weeks, the months. I don't know where they went. I know I spent them with amazing people. I've learned so much from my bosses John Gould, Bob Cohn, and James Bennet and the cast of characters who covered technology during my time: Nick Jackson, Becca Rosen, Megan Garber, Rob Meyer, Adrienne LaFrance, Rose Eveleth.