My mom once told me that, someday, I would need to support her financially. Then I told her I wanted to be a journalist, and crushed her dreams. That’s the first.
The second: During my freshman year of college, my class advisor — a somewhat swarthy philosophy professor with a penchant for displaying a formidable pelt of chest hair through the undone buttons of his polo shirts — told me that if I wanted to be a writer, I shouldn’t try it before the age of 25. Why? Because chances are I wouldn’t have done anything of consequence with my life that was worth writing about. I didn’t have any stories to tell, in other words.
Now, I think (I hope) I do.
My name’s Andrew Zaleski, a freelance journalist who probably should have come up with a better reporting beat by now. I’ve written about America’s best lumberjack for Men’s Health, the world’s best drone racer for Wired, peace-keeping former felons for the Washington Post Magazine, a crazed French swimmer traversing the Pacific Ocean for Outside — and about furniture, space suits, self-driving cars, masquerading as a UPS man, and how a Brooklyn-based 3D-printer company (almost) changed the world.
There are far too many links out there, so for those so inclined, I’m starting a monthly newsletter to share my latest work. It’s free, a roundup that speaks to the name of this little experiment: I’ll try to get you in and out of the door in one minute or less — some background on recent stories with links; what I’m working on, or what I’m trying to find out more about; and, as best as I can manage, something interesting or strange that makes you feel like you didn’t waste 60 seconds of your day.
Thanks for reading and for signing up.