Letter to the Editor: You Didn’t Make the Cut
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Joshua from The Minimalists writes:
Howdy, Joshua from The Minimalists here. You didn’t make the cut.
A couple years ago, I made a quiet decision: I removed more than 100,000 inactive subscribers from The Simple Newsletter to keep it affordable, intentional, and clutter-free.
You’re reading this email because you were one of those people.
Since then, I’ve completely rebuilt the newsletter from the ground up. It’s still free — but now it’s simpler, more thoughtful, and far more useful.
So I want to welcome you back.
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Dear Joshua. How fucking dare you?
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Get all the minimalism you’ll ever need in the pithy pages of Escape Everything! instead. Or indeed our newsletter, for which, you’ll be happy to know, you made the cut.
Letter to the Editor: Change Your Thought Patterns
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Reader O writes:
I recently found myself in the position of being let go from my job, but with the fortunate benefit of a couple of months of gardening leave.
One of the first things I did was to re-read Escape Everything! for some inspiration. Being a father of a small child, I don’t have the option to “fly somewhere vibrant and cheap,” which did sound like a wonderful plan.
I would very much like to capture the essence of that plan nonetheless and start thinking about building a cottage industry. Do you have any thoughts on how to capture the essence of flying somewhere vibrant and cheap, while remaining at home?
My interpretation of the travel part of the escape plan is that it’s intended to recharge one’s batteries while also disrupting the status quo to change your thought patterns and give rise to new ideas.
Do you have any thoughts on how to achieve this when confined to the same everyday life, but with nine hours of free time on my hands?
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Your situation sounds pretty good. A period of paid leave and, hopefully, some cash in the bank for an escape fund make for a strong hand. You have what most people do not have: time.
For the cottage industry element of your plan, you’ll need to have a think about your creative interests and look to how other people tend to monetise similar. Also, how you can be different to them — what your contribution to the world might be — and where your audience are.
You can’t travel for the mini-retirement I suggest in the book, so you’re asking absolutely the right question: how can you distil the benefits of such a trip into everyday life? You’ve also identified precisely what those benefits are: a recharge, a disruption, new thought patterns.
Escaping to a different city for a while, especially the “vibrant and cheap” sort of place I mention in the book allows you to cut some new pathways in the brain and some new passages through the air. Maybe reading some new books markedly different to the ones you’d normally read could help. The trouble is, being in, say, Valletta for the first times means that such novelty is ambient where books require your concentration.
I’d say the most important thing is not to waste your time off. I don’t mean you need to be productive and start your cottage industry: I mean that your recharge at least should be deep. Don’t watch daytime television: it saps the soul. Don’t spend your precious time on social media. Play with your children, read books, cook, dawdle, go for leisurely walks, experience nature, hear the sound of a river. Allow opportunities for disruption take you by surprise. Maybe you can take your children somewhere, just another town in your country, for a few days? When was the last time you went to the zoo?
Good luck with it all. And please do send us another Letter to the Editor or even an article when you have a story to tell.
Letter to the Editor: Like a Dissatisfied Chimp
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Reader M writes:
Thanks, as ever, [for the newsletter]. There are thoughts on my mind right now…
Being somewhat short of cash again (again, again…), I’m learning to “want what I have” instead of what I don’t have. This has involved a joyful replay of my old LPs and CDs: old friends I forgot I had.
Time slowed down, as I wasn’t permanently clicking buttons like a dissatisfied chimp when the first ten seconds of a track failed to ignite my interest. I’ve now cancelled Sp*tify.
On a recent podcast, the host mentioned that they watch out for apps which “have access to them.” An interesting concept. I don’t access X, for example. IT accesses me. So true.
Keep fighting the good fight.
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Thanks M. Your LP and CD odyssey reminds me of Friend David Cain’s Depth Year. It puts quality over quantity, is cheaper, and more rewarding. Capitalism makes us want more,-more-more instead of appreciating what we already have. That includes wide open freebies like nature and good company, but since most of us were more rampant consumers in the past we’re probably also sitting on a wealth of recorded culture in the form of records and books and videos. In situations where we have more time than money, the solution is precisely as you describe. Go deep instead of wide for a while. That’s no defeat, it’s an opportunity to finally enjoy something instead of merely acquiring it.
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Letter to the Editor: The Act of Moving Through the World
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With reference to that digital nomads item, Reader C writes:
What resonated most is how they celebrate the imperfect details that form the real story: missed trains, unexpected rainstorms, street food that’s more exciting than Instagram-worthy meals. Those are the moments you don’t plan for, but they shape you more than the postcard-perfect ones.
I also loved the idea of travel as life capital. Each encounter, whether with fellow travellers or locals, builds empathy and understanding. By “investing” in curiosity and connection, you come home not just with photos but a renewed outlook on the world.
It’s a hopeful reminder that even when things go sideways, that twist becomes part of the adventure. It’s not just about collecting places. It’s about becoming more interesting, more resilient, and more open through the act of moving through the world.
In an age where travel has become easier and sometimes more commoditized, this piece brings us back to the heart of wandering: living out loud, staying curious, and knowing that regrets don’t fit when you travel with intention.
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New Escapologist Issue 18 is in the works and can be ordered today for November release.
Letter to the Editor: We’re Not Perfectly Rational Economic Actors
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In response to our post about a Rent vs. Buy calculator, Reader Z writes:
If you want to really get into the weeds on this topic, Ben Felix on YouTube has a few videos on Rent vs. Buy that covers it pretty well.
In the end, renting is usually the mathematically ideal way to go if you invest the difference. However, that last bit of investing the difference is a massive hurdle for us humans. For most people, the forced savings that happens with a mortgage is much more likely to build wealth over time compared to renting due to the discipline required. Even with automatic contributions, it’s easy to reduce those due to some “just this once” reason.
On the other hand, owning a home makes us more likely to spend more on the home to make it the way we want. We also fall into the trap of justifying these upgrades by assuming we’ll get at least as much money back in home equity. At least with a rental, it’s unlikely we’re going to spend thousands on a kitchen or bathroom renovation. Also, due to high transaction costs of selling a home, owning for less than around 9 years before moving can be very expensive.
The outcomes of each option is similar enough that it really does come down to feelings, in a way. Much to the chagrin of economists, we’re not perfectly rational economic actors. Some people truly would be happier with one over the other even if, in practice, they are identical or the other option is better overall. Of course they could also learn to overcome these biases that are limiting them to one choice, but if they’re similar enough, is it worth it? I don’t know.
Side note, but I’ve just bought a home after wanting to rent for my entire life. The main thing that led me to this was that the house was a setup that I really valued, but I could not find a way to rent my way into that situation. I’m not saving anything over renting, but I’m excited to live in a way that I’ve been dreaming of for a long time.
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Hey Z. Congrats on the new home and thanks for telling our readers about that YouTube channel. I strongly relate to what you said about wanting to avoid the trap of justifying upgrades: we had our floor done as soon as we moved in, which I’m glad we did, but it was the first time I felt the pull of that investment logic. It’s certainly something homeowners of an Escapological mindset should look out for.
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Letter to the Editor: Wish Me Luck
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Reader E writes:
Howdy RW (and fellow Escapologists if you’re reading),
E here writing to you from West London – actually, from Croatia where I am lounging on a beach near Split. But usually, based in WLdn.
I am currently re-reading I’m Out (my signed copy… thanks!!) and pondering my current life situation; more specifically, where I may still fall into The Trap.
This year I made a pledge to limit my shopaholic tendencies and have purchased just one non essential item of clothing all year, a very pretty silk dress, at a 15% discount, which I wear almost weekly. Other than that, I have curbed my spending on clothes exponentially, and it’s had an impact on my other spending too. Money spent on non-essentials translates into hours of work I’d need to undertake to pay for them, and whether I would be willing to sacrifice e.g. a day of early retirement for a takeaway and a new jacket. The answer is usually no, and I’ve managed to save approximately a third of my net income per month since adopting this mindset.
I am about to turn 22 years old and am in quite a unique situation where I am a homeowner with no debt, due to a series of both fortunate and unfortunate events, and so I am seeking ways to further reduce my spending so that I can retire, ideally, in the next 18 years. Possibly sooner, 40 just seems like a milestone age. Realistically, with an income of circa £2k/month after PAYE tax, £1.5k after council tax and bills, I should be able to cut out even more expenditure. If I can manage this without cutting out trips to my local pub and social club, this would be ideal. I am attempting to get back into sewing and repairing my own, and friends’/family’s clothes, and have tried my best at cooking from scratch (and growing my own herbs on my flat’s tiny windowsill).
I hope you know you have inspired me to see my friendships, happiness, relationships, hobbies, etc., as priorities over the Trap of careerism. I work a bullshit job. Everyone around me does too. Nobody will remember me as “a competent customer relationship management administrator” when I die.
Cheerio, look forward to reading the next one.
Wish me luck!
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Well, what are you waiting for? Wish her luck, everyone!
Letter to the Editor: I Have Just Stepped Off the Hamster Wheel
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Reader H writes:
Dear Robert,
In June 2016 your book saved me. I was burnt out after years of struggling as a single parent and working three jobs: cleaner, teaching assistant, and weekend shop assistant. As well as having ongoing counselling for a traumatic childhood.
I was trying so hard to make a life worth living. I ended up on antidepressants as my doctor suggested it was depression and not, as was the case, burn out. The antidepressants made me feel worse, unable to get up, washed, dressed. I felt I was at the very bottom of a deep black hole trying to claw my way out.
A friend forced me out of the house in Southampton and dropped me in the middle of Reading high street while he made sales calls in the area. Unable to face people, I found the nearest bookshop to hide in. The assistant asked what I was looking for?
“Anything about escaping life without hurting the people I love?”
Looking perplexed he led me to the “positive mental attitude” books. I searched and searched until a title caught my eye. It was called Escape Everything!
I read your book over and over. I was in that bookshop for three hours and he left me be while I read it over and over. It was exactly what I felt… life had become one long struggle of trying to make ends meet. Nothing else.
I arrived home a different person. I came off the antidepressants, wrote up my escape plan and worked my bollocks off!
Fast forward through some incredibly hectic years. I have renovated many unloved properties (my passion), giving them back their dignity and mine. I have just stepped off the hamster wheel And have many creative ideas still to pursue!
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for dropping a ladder into that hole.
To this day it is my bible. I am free to live the life I want to live and life is bloody amazing!! 😘
Thank you.
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Foof. It’s hard to know how to respond to this one other than to say thank you for taking the effort to tell me. You’re welcome. And your new life sounds beautiful. You’re the one who did it though: you planned and acted, which is what it all comes down to. Congratulations.
Letter to the Editor: My Impending Departure
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Reader A writes:
Hi Rob,
I finished The Good Life for Wage Slaves last night and wanted to say how much I enjoyed it. It’s so full of good ideas, funny moments, and a thorough debunking of the idea that what you are is what you do for work. There were many parts and passages I enjoyed, and the afterword was a very nice touch.
Back in my 30s, I so disliked getting the question, “What do you do?” — especially when it was always the second or third question anyone ever asked — that I would usually make up responses. My favourite was always to say I was a fluffer in the porn industry. My second favourite was to answer “rocket scientist.” Both answers always stopped people in their tracks.
I’m not entirely sure that a wage slave can really have a good life, but a lot of the book’s value is just opening up people’s minds to the possibility that there’s a different (I’d say better) way. It seems hard for many people to do anything other than take incremental steps, especially when it comes to questioning the validity of their reality. And that’s what your book can do for people who haven’t already undertaken the path to saying no to a very dreary paradigm.
On a final note, I made my official announcement [at work] last week about my impending departure. I still have four and a half months of wage slavery ahead of me, but I’m determined to make it as rewarding as possible. And simply announcing my intentions was a pretty grand way to begin a new year.
Yours,
A
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Be like Reader A and quit while you’re ahead! New Escapologist Issue 17 will be reprinted if we can get enough orders. Issue 16 and many other items are still available in our online shop.
Letter to the Editor: We Make Choices
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Reader G writes:
Dear Robert,
I just wanted to write a quick missive to thank you for The Good Life for Wage Slaves. I had to ration myself reading time on it, as I have to with all your Escapological material! There were two stand-out things for me.
Firstly the use of Wikipedian cats as a pseudonymising tool. It just went to add that extra spoonful of ridiculousness which your situation (and had the bonus benefit of teaching me the glorious tale of Catmando – before I read his page I’d been pronouncing it like ‘commando’, which fitted the human boss persona perfectly).
Second was the idea of buying a violin with no plan/need to make what society so unreasonably deems a good noise. It reminded me that I want to take up the trumpet, having been so crap at it at school that I was moved over to the (what-the-hell-is-a) euphonium, which I hated. So I might just take the plunge. It also reminded me of my favourite Peter Cook/Dudley Moore sketch, so all the better:
My own Escapological path is long and rambling. It doesn’t even end with me quitting work altogether (yet!). But I’m now in a job that I enjoy (and has an excellent barrier between work and leisure), and which required an Escapological leap to reach. Nevertheless, your latest book will remain an essential guide to managing work to the betterment of leisure time. The journey continues!
Just before your book arrived, I was reading another one that might interest you: Affluence Without Abundance by James Suzman. I’ve long been both interested (from an idler’s point of view) and sceptical of the ‘original affluent society’ idea, but the author of this book is both insightful and balanced – he’s not trying to prove any ‘primitivist fantasy’.
The book’s portraits of different communities in an area of southern Africa contrast those who live the older hunter-gatherer lifestyle (without abundance) with those who strive as hard as possible, and are farmers (or unemployed). Apparently it was with the agricultural revolution that it all went wrong! It commits us to much more work than letting the food raise itself.
Still, Suzman shows that the difference between idling and striving can largely be one of attitude and/or choice. In the above book, people on both sides of the divide can live cheek-by-jowl. As Escapologists we know that we make choices and priorise in order to live the life we want. The book shows that, though there are pressures to earn, stash, or aspire, and there are temptations (the greatest to the subjects of the book seems to be alcohol), both lifestyles are there for the adopting, if you know how to choose.
Thanks again for publishing the manuals.
Best wishes,
G
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The Good Life for Wage Slaves is available from our online shop, along with Issue 16 and our print or digital subscription packages.
Letter to the Editor: Does the Answer Really Lie in More Work?
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Dear Rob,
During a recent delve into my journals, I was reminded that in 2010 we were engaged in some email correspondence about giving up shopping. I was in a wonderfully free period of life between graduating from University and starting anything else and was writing a blog about resisting consumerism.
Shortly after this I was offered a full time job [for a large charity]. Jobs in the charity sector, especially in campaigning organisations, are dangerous because they give the appearance of doing something worthwhile and politically radical while trapping you at a desk for 40 hours a week (or more, because when you’re making the world a better place it feels morally incorrect to stick to your contracted hours.)
Promotions and raises, instead of bringing forward my escape, enabled more tattoos, better coffee, tickets to see bands that other people had heard of too. I’ve always called myself an anti-capitalist but capitalism got its claws into me anyway. Punk is an aesthetic like any other, marketed to me on Instagram via adverts for purple hair dye and tattoo brightening cream.
As I enter the second half of my thirties, I find myself increasingly tired of it all. Working for a charity seems, at best, paternalistic — full of white middle-class people who think they know best about the lives of the less fortunate — and at worst complicit in a system of widening inequality and climate crisis by letting governments off the hook by providing services no longer sufficiently funded by the state.
Much better, I thought, to be fixing those inequalities at the root causes. So I ran as candidate in the [redacted] elections. The only party I could stomach joining was the Green Party, so I didn’t win, but I did well enough to be asked to stand as a local councilor. The amount of work that would entail makes my chest tighten in panic.
And I’m wondering, does the answer really lie in more work? Is the world going to be made better by all this hustle? By attending endless meetings in our spare time? By being so exhausted that we mindlessly consume terrible food and bad TV and the endless scroll of social media?
A few weeks ago I picked up a copy of The Way Home by Mark Boyle in a charity shop. Reading this, alongside the return of New Escapologist (and especially the piece about Henry Gibbs) has me thinking of escape again.
I’ve already stood down from one of the trustee boards I’m on, and started ignoring calls for volunteers on Whatsapp groups. I’ve stopped posting on social media. I’m even thinking of moving out of London and planting a veg garden.
K
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In Issue 17, we’re running an excerpt from After Work by Helen Hester and Nick Srnicek. They make a distinction between freedom through work and freedom from work, which is an important one.
Your point about punk being an saleable aesthetic is a good one. There’s a book about this called The Rebel Sell by Joseph Heath. When I interviewed him for Issue 9, he seemed to think this was all so obvious, that everyone can see through the claptrap. But is it? At that time I still believed in at least some of the punk aesthetic being symbollic of actual values, that someone with blue hair or some tats might be my tribe. Which is ironic really because in punk terms I look like a real square. But anyway, it’s a good point. Punk is for sale.
I hope you do what’s right for you, K. I won’t advise you to do anything because only you can know your full situation, but slowing down and operating far from the capital are things I’ve always put stock in and they seem to work for me. At least doing less (or just hanging out instead of working) doesn’t burn any fossil fuels. E.F. Schumacher wrote in Small is Beautiful (1973) that we should have done the work in the 1960s and 70s: used the finite “capital” or starter loan of fossil fuels to create sustainable alternatives. But we didn’t. Whatever happens now, I’m not sure that panicking about this failure is entirely productive.
