Reinvention in the Age of Disillusion.

For more than a decade, I’ve been known online as “The Captain”—a persona born from an inside joke, which has grown into what it is today: ten books, thousands of posts, and tons of laughs, realizations, and memories.

In the early years, I loved it—like, genuinely fucking loved it. With every post, caption, and late-night opinion, my sense of purpose grew along with my presence. I was excited to write, I felt connected to my work and you, the readers. I was motivated to share my views on both life and love because it felt like I was actually making a difference (I know the difference it made in my own life was tremendous).

However, today, as I write this from the kitchen table of my friend’s house in Salt Lake City, UT (the city where it all began)—thinking about what I’m going to say at tonight’s event to celebrate the release of my new(est) book—I miss the way that this used to feel.

Truth be told, I’m disillusioned by it all: social media, streaming, TikTok, ChatGPT, and whatever new form of (dis)connected tech is coming next.

To some extent, I believe we’re all feeling this way.

We’re over the faceless accounts, the avatars, and the curated, perfectly presented, branded personas. For me, the era of “screen names” is done—big tech has won, and now, more than ever, attention is the most valuable currency. So, as AI skews and controls the next wave of “influencers,” I, for one, want to be seen as human. I want to place reality before reels, value before views, and purpose before a platform. In this regard, I’m done with “The Captain.” I see no future in it. After all, a captain can really only be the captain of one ship at a time—and, for me, that ship (social media) has sailed.

This is something that has been on my mind for a while now; I’ve known for years that I would eventually need to push the persona overboard in order to step into the next phase of my career—but I didn’t realize just how “over it” I was until recently.

For about as long as I can remember, all I’ve ever wanted to do for a living is write, but over the last couple of months, I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t considered hanging up my hat. Not just “The Captain’s” hat, but my writer’s hat—leaving the literary world behind entirely. I even called my agent last week to tell her that I was considering going down with the ship and finding a new avenue for my creativity. Sure, “The Captain” has always been “me,” but in that same sentence, I’ve always been more than the moniker. I have more to offer, more to say, more to write, and much more to create. And, let’s face it: I’m not Batman. I don’t need a layer of separation between my work and my world—which is why I will no longer be writing books as “The Captain.” The new edition of Speech Therapy (which officially releases today by the way, and can be purchased here) will be the last book to bear the time-honored title of the past ten years.

Simply put: the name behind much of my literary notoriety no longer represents me. It doesn’t effectively encompass my desires, my decisions, or my dreams. I can’t fathom moving forward in the pursuit of growth and opportunity while continuing to cage myself into an old mindset and label.

I crave change.

I desire depth.

I require novelty.

I need to evolve.

So, over the coming months, I’ll begin redesigning pages, removing links and titles, and reinventing my online presence.

From “Stranger Danger,” to Dear Captain, to the late-night vampire hunts in New Orleans, I appreciate everyone who has taken this journey with me. I’ve been lost at times—and I haven’t always steered the ship in the right direction—but I’ve always done my best to remain honest about where we’re heading. And, I hope that you’ll stick around for the next chapter. (Maybe I’ll become a fucking astronaut.)

Thanks for reading. I value your time and attention, and I’ve always appreciated your support.

-Kyle Creek, FKA “The Capt.”