Labubus and Lousy Writing

Labubus are helping me get better at writing.

If you’re not familiar with Labubus, congrats, but also, where have you been? They’re little toys that grew popular in Asia and then took over the world.

50% scary, 50% cute, and 100% popular. Everyone’s scrambling to get a Labubu.

Dua Lipa has Labubus.

Naomi Osaka had a different Labubu for every match of the US Open.

PopMarket, the toy’s creator, generated $677 million in revenue in the first half of 2025 alone, and that’s just from retail. A rare Labubu can fetch over $150 on eBay.

Labubus are having a moment.

But of course, if you remember Beanie Babies or FunkoPops, you know it probably won’t last. These are tiny pieces of plastic that will take up a spot on your shelf until you move and try to sell them at the garage sale, then nobody wants them at the garage sale, so you eventually bring them to Goodwill, where someone will impulse buy them for $3.99 a piece.

People are treating them like art, spending hundreds of dollars to acquire them, when, at the end of the day, we know they’re just ugly little pieces of plastic.

So what does this have to do with writing?

Ugly little pieces of plastic

It all started when I wrote an article that I really, really loved.

I thought it nailed the tone I want to go for, included lived experiences, and made a couple of jokes.

I was so proud of it.

The problem is, I then put expectations on myself. I’d finally done something I liked, and now I had to follow it up with something better, or at least the same.

And that is quite challenging.

I haven’t had a problem writing, just editing and publishing. I’ve written maybe 20 articles since then, only four or five that I published. Every time I finish writing a piece, I step back and go, “This just isn’t as good as what I’ve done before.”

It doesn’t have this, it’s missing that, and don’t even get me started about the other.

I’m treating these articles like precious, timeless art pieces. I must perfect them, or keep them locked away until their value has increased.

In reality, I should look at them like ugly little pieces of plastic.

And that’s not to demean myself.

It’s good to like your work, but it’s also good to realize that you’re not David Foster Wallace and you’re not C.S. Lewis. And the only way to become even 1% like those people is by writing a lot and publishing a lot.

I can’t implement every piece of writing advice at once, and I can’t cover all angles of every argument in 500 words.

I have to write, publish, and move on.

It’s just a little piece of plastic—no need to worry too much about it.

If people don’t like it, that’s fine. After all, I agree with them, it’s nothing special.

But if I do this for several years, then maybe I’ll be able to craft essays that are special, that paparazzi will photograph Dua Lipa holding on one of her hundred holidays.

But what are you actually changing?

Well, I posted this. That’s a start, right?!

I also bought a Labubu, the cheapest one on Amazon, for $20.99.

It’s a cactus.

It’ll sit on my desk and remind me to post instead of hoard.

If that doesn’t work, I also agreed to send my friend $100 for every Thursday I don’t post until the end of the year.

Maybe that will encourage more publishing.

I’ll let you know,

Alex