Closing Time: Rolling Up the End of an Era

You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here. The Weed Witch’s final letter (for now)

Hey everyone,

When I was a barista in college, I had this little ritual for the end of every shift: Right before closing, I’d blast “Closing Time” by Semisonic and tell customers, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” It was my way of signaling that the day was done (and also, that I was tired AF and wanted to go home).

Here I am, doing it again—signaling that it’s time to wrap this up, but in a very different way.

This is a tough letter to write, but it’s time for me to put this newsletter (and podcast, and everything else this project has grown into) on pause. Let’s call it a sabbatical, not a goodbye—just… until next time. (And please, don’t call it a comeback if that happens).

For those of you who are current paid subscribers, refunds will be issued automatically. If you have any questions, concerns, or just need help navigating Substack’s process, feel free to email me at itstheweedwitch@gmail.com, and I’ll help sort it out. Convincing people to re-subscribe down the road will likely be a pain in the ass, but who knows? Maybe this project will transform into something else entirely.

I know some of you may be disappointed or even confused, given how many essays I’ve produced this past week. I’ve heard from so many of you about how much you look forward to these newsletters—some even call it their favorite. That kind of feedback has meant the world to me and kept me going through moments when I wasn’t sure I could. The fact that people willingly pay for such a wildcard mix of content—"a Birchbox for your inbox,” if you will—is still wild to me.

But let’s be real: this has become a bit of a time suck. Even though 40% of you are opening these emails (no small feat), the engagement metrics—the likes, the shares—don’t reflect that. Writing thousands of words for content that often gets scrolled past isn’t the best use of my time right now. And while I love being niche, I’m too niche for even the algorithm to categorize.

While the numbers tell one story, there’s another layer: some friends view this newsletter as a passive way to stay connected without having to return texts or make calls (something I’m working through this year in therapy!). But that’s not a sustainable hook for building a platform or convincing future agents and publishers to take me seriously.

I want to focus on creating something to show for myself—not to prove myself.

A few weeks ago, I read an Ask Polly column where a writer shared the heartbreak of publishing a book with a major publisher only for no one—media, friends, or even their publisher—to care. It hit me hard. I felt so seen and vindicated. It reminded me that platforms like Substack are great marketing tools, but less effective as purely creative outlets unless you already have a massive personal brand.

When my book came out, I was stunned by how many people I had supported—attending their weddings, baby showers, etc.—who couldn’t show up for a Zoom launch event that didn’t even require putting on pants. Some had the nerve to tell me, “You should’ve made this an app,” while admitting that they weren’t going to read it and suggesting that I get on TikTok. After two years of pouring my soul, sanity, and credit line into that book? These. Motherfuckers.

Over the years, people have sent me entry-level job listings as if my James Beard nomination, internationally published book, and decades of experience mean nothing. That kind of dismissal is exhausting, and I’m done with it. If you don’t read, you’re not my audience.

This pause isn’t an ending; it’s a chance for me to realign my energy. I’ve set myself up financially to step away, take a breath, and focus on the writing that truly matters to me. My dream has always been to write on my own timeline, and now I finally can.

Substack will always be a useful marketing tool for writers, but in 2025, I’m breaking the cycle of “exposure” over fulfillment. I’m shifting my energy toward writing books—actual, tangible products for readers who truly want them. The good news: there’s a whole arsenal of content on the Pipe Dreams landing page you can look back on with amazing small businesses, writers, artists, musicians, and tastemakers to discover.

Thank you for being part of this journey. Whether or not I return to this space, I’ll always be grateful for the time we’ve shared here. For now, I’m focusing on creating something truly meaningful to share, on my own terms.

Stay lit,

—CF

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In the meantime, here are a bunch of Substacks I enjoy and highly recommend. They’re a great way to keep your inbox full of thoughtful, funny, and inspiring content while I take a breather:

• The Comma

• Bitches Gotta Eat

• Ask Polly

• Can I Ask You A Personal Question?

• Dear Sugar

• My Sandwich, My Choice

• Fruit + Flower Unfurled

• Cooking from a Fahr

• SCRAPS

• Snacks

• The Department of Salad

• Shifting the Narrative

• TCF Emails

• The Dessert Menu

• Have Your Cake

• Family Friend(ly)

• Kitchen Projects

• The Jewish Table

• Craft Talk

• Smitten Kitchen

• Italian Disco Stories

• The Reset

• Anti-Hangover Drinking Club

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