"Generalist" is a terrible title.

There's nothing "general" about being a generalist.

Words matter.

To you, that may sound obvious. Almost insultingly so.

You might read that lean back in your chair, your car seat, or the fucking carpet, and think: “Brilliant observation, Taylor. We also need oxygen to breathe.”

But, if that’s how you took it… I’m not being clear enough.

Words fucking matter.

Titles. Definitions. Poetry. Literature. Documents. Novels. Fiction. Nonfiction. Biographies. Limericks. Haikus. Hieroglyphics. Labels. Scripture. Names. Brands. Locations. That text message you were too scared to send tonight but know you must, or else it will claw at your insides till morning. That email you’ve saved in your drafts because the tenth version still doesn’t feel right.

There’s a tangible importance to words that I feel is often neglected. I’m not saying this to feel superior, or even to be melodramatic. I wouldn’t know how to live, to be, without the ability to communicate through the written word.

I started this rant with the word “titles” as an example.

There’s a reason for that.

If you know the—often redirected—direction of this newsletter, then you know that I’m a generalist. A multi-hyphenate. Multi-passionate. Polymath. Slashy.

I’m not destined to love, do, or be one thing, and I have no interest in falling down that path any longer. I recently announced shutting down my ghostwriting business and have taken on multiple ventures in corporate and entrepreneurship to discover these little footprints of my identity. Every generalist has a unique method of creating the person they wish to be. Some embrace them early on, without fear. Others recognize what they love at a very young age, but refuse to accept those pieces of themselves until they’re a little older than they’d like. Late bloomers.

I use the word “generalist” because it’s the most commonly understood variation of the term—but I hate it.

I tried “polymath” before, but it sounds too pretentious to be taken seriously. I’ve never liked “multi-passionate” because it has the same vibe as a book club framed in pink frills and lace. “Multi-hyphenate” is probably the one I like the most, but it feels a little too attached to specific vocations, such as writing. “Slashy” is a term I came across that made me grin like an idiot, but it’s a bit Gen Z. A bit over-constructed.

So, I’m at a loss.

Because I don’t think any word truly captures the feel of a generalist—and what it truly means. For us as individuals, and for us in a more social structure.

It’s about doing, and being, so many different things. It’s a beautiful way to live and an endlessly challenging way to navigate. It’s endlessly inspiring and always curious. I’m so, so grateful to be this way. In the same breath, I’m often facing extreme emotional conflicts that land me in a quarterly meltdown.

I will say this:

There is nothing “general” about being a generalist.

It’s a love letter to being artistic and weird. It’s a proclamation of difference, of acceptance. It’s an echo of thousands upon thousands of minds in the past who died too young before they realized their multiple interests were diamonds, not fool’s gold. It’s a library of millions of unearthed concepts, ideas, personalities, stories, methodologies, belief systems, art, and a myriad of many, many other beautiful facets that make up the core of humanity.

“Generalist” is easy… but is it right?

I don’t like labels, but I do like making sense of the abstract.

(It’s part of why I love the creativity of words and the beauty of prose, but I’m drawn to the psychology of copywriting and how you can make an ad art if you really, really want to)

I don’t like to be called a “generalist” but I’m grateful there’s an immediate understanding of what that is. I don’t like how it rolls off my tongue—similar to how red and brown color palettes make me angry, or a baby crying will make me irrationally upset, or how even thinking of touching chalk and flour sends a deeply unpleasant ticklish spasm up and down my entire back—and I don’t like how it’s the definitive word for everything there is to be known within this topic.

But… I do have some peace, when I think back and observe the irony.

I’m not just a generalist, either.

It’s not the one-all, be-all.

It’s to make conversation easier, to open the door for others to build a relationship with you if they wish. It’s to make my art easier to understand and accept. It’s to make the characters in my stories I love so deeply become more than three-dimensional (hopefully). It’s to make my photography resemble so much more than a shared secret, a gentle whisper, or even a chaste expression shared between two lovers.

So, while I detest the word “generalist…”

I’m so glad we have something to help us all accept us for who we are.

Perfectly, within our imperfections.

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P.S. I just announced a paid tier to my newsletter.

Still figuring out what to give you guys—and thank you for being here, by the way, it’s absolutely incredible to see so many other generalists flock to this message and find some kinship in my rants—but I think it’s time to share that with the world.

Soon, I'll be releasing the first episode of Inside the Oyster, the podcast sector of this newsletter. It’ll be for paid subscribers only, and will feature the embedded podcast episode, and the transcript as well.

My plan is to release one newsletter a week and one podcast a week, eventually, but it might take some time before that happens. We’ll see.

No matter who you are, thank you.

None of this would be possible without you.

- Taylor

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