Publishing First: Why Ghost Made Sense

An empty, quiet room with soft natural light coming through a single window, casting shadows across a neutral-colored wall.
AI generated by Midjourney, prompted by the author.

I’ve been sitting on this damn fence for too long. My ass, back, neck, and head all hurt from the duration — the research rabbit holes, the one question that leads to twenty more, exponential question growth (is that a thing?). Instincts pull one direction, “expert” voices pull another.

Get off the fence. It’s time. Make a decision. Take the next step.

Let’s go for it. Let’s make the move.

Deciding to build a journal — a blog, a thought log — on Ghost instead of just using Squarespace wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t wholly reactive. It certainly wasn’t sudden.

It was gradual.

And ultimately, it came down to purpose and ease of use.


For years — and I mean years — I’ve intended to write routinely. To share thoughts and ideas from life, work, and entertainment.

So why hadn’t I done it already?

Honestly, it was discomfort.

Committing to something consistent. Something thoughtful. Something worth reading. That carries weight. There was always that quiet question in the background:

Does anyone really want this?

Writing on a routine basis takes time. It takes attention. It takes energy.

It wasn’t about the number of readers, members, followers, audience growth, or metrics. It was about clearing out the growing pile of half-written notes and saved links — the kind of stuff you swear you’ll “share later” — and actually turning them into something real.

I wasn’t necessarily searching for an expansive audience (although that would be nice). I needed a way to share easily — something fast, simple, and focused on writing instead of tweaking.

The idea of publishing those thoughts felt better than letting them rot in a folder somewhere. If nothing else, this space could serve as a logbook for discoveries, observations, and half-formed thoughts.

I realized I might be talking into the void for a while. But that isn’t the worst thing.

It’s often where ideas begin. Eventually, someone hears them.

What mattered more was motion. Clearing space. Narrowing focus. Sharing.


I used 2025 as a reset. Pivoting away from one-to-one client work and toward writing and creating was a primary piece of that reset.

As I started outlining how publishing would actually work — the cadence, the writing flow, the workflow — something felt off.

I had intended to use Squarespace for publishing but began to question whether it was the right environment for the direction I had in mind.

For a portfolio site and occasional blog posts, absolutely. It’s capable. It’s mostly polished. It’s a workable solution.

But it’s also very easy to get distracted — tinkering with layouts, adjusting spacing, refining presentation.

And over time, the friction points Squarespace introduced — and didn’t fully resolve — began to add up.

Tools are supposed to simplify. Reduce friction. Make the work smoother.
Instead, there was an accumulation of little flaws and announced changes.

Small adjustments that required workarounds.
Updates that interrupted flow.
Extra steps and extra clicks where they didn’t need to be.

Individually, manageable. Collectively, distracting.

Tablet limitations. Spacing quirks. Adjustments introduced by updates. Nothing catastrophic — just constant.

Not the right fit. At least not for what I had in mind.

This isn’t a “don’t use Squarespace” advisory. It’s still a solid option for many websites.

But for Drifty Pixel — where I’m writing — the platform needed to be as distraction-free as possible. Functional. Fast. The right features. Minimal management after launch.

After diving into the inevitable rabbit hole of publishing tools, I climbed back out with a plan: Ghost, combined with Ulysses, and supported where helpful by AI tools like ChatGPT.


The draw of familiarity shouldn’t be underestimated. It’s the reason I almost stayed with Squarespace for this project.

I know it well. I’ve used it for years. It excels at visual layout on the surface.
Building clean pages is straightforward — until you start pushing the edges. There’s comfort in that fluency.

Leaving meant learning something new. Different structures. Different assumptions. A different way of thinking about themes and content.

But stepping back clarified something important:

Squarespace is optimized for presentation.
Ghost is optimized for publishing.

At this stage, publishing mattered more.

That was the shift.

It wasn’t about finding something better.
It was about finding something more aligned.


Ghost isn’t perfect.

It doesn’t need to be.

Still, the editor feels focused. The publishing flow feels intentional. The friction feels lighter. I spend less time adjusting and more time writing.

That difference matters.

Not because one platform wins and the other loses.

But because I don’t need everything anymore.

I need fewer moving parts. Fewer decisions. Fewer adjustments.

More focus.

Friction is easy to rationalize. You tell yourself every tool has tradeoffs. That you’ll adapt. That it’s fine.

Sometimes that’s true.

But sometimes friction is a signal.

And sometimes the simplest move is just to remove what isn’t helping you move forward.

This wasn’t about finding something better.

It was about choosing something that fits where I am right now.

And right now, that feels right.

Alright — go reduce friction.

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