Nick Denton hired me at Gawker in 2013. I stayed for years — eventually becoming one of the few people in the company trusted by both the editorial and business sides simultaneously. In media, that is a rare and specific thing.

My work lived in three registers. Editorially, I produced events that celebrated and embodied each Gawker Media brand on its own terms — Jezebel's 10th anniversary, Gizmodo activations at CES, Kotaku anniversary parties, The Root 100 Gala, the Deadspin Awards. On the client side, I created memorable experiences for advertising partners that went well beyond the standard wining and dining — private dinners, ski trips, pool parties in Cannes, a Shibari demonstration in the Castro. And in between, I developed sponsored content — not written by our editorial staff, but in a voice close enough to theirs that it could live in the same environment without breaking the spell. Gawker's audience was highly engaged, specific, and unforgiving. Giving an advertiser a credible voice in that space required genuine craft and a deep understanding of what the readers would and wouldn't tolerate.

I was also there for the end — a front row seat to watching Peter Thiel's money dismantle a media organization not because it was wrong, but because it was inconvenient to him. I think a lot about truth to power. That experience is part of why.

The writers I worked alongside — Jia Tolentino, Rich Juzwiak, Adrian Chen, Katie Drummond, Dodai Stewart, Tracie Egan Morrissey, Sam Biddle, Caity Weaver, Emma Carmichael, Max Read, John Cook, Cord Jefferson, Drew Magary, Tom Scocca, Choire Sicha, Tom Ley, Leah Beckmann, Tommy Craggs… — have gone on to define American journalism. Gawker is gone. The relationships are not.