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Introducing Traveler Ghost

November 14, 2023 | 2 min read

Ghost Header Launch

Tired of the monotony of modern tech? So are we. Let’s go back to the future. 👻

From Dave Grohl’s see-through guitar to your Nintendo controller, we humans have always been fascinated by the inner workings of the tools that help us live our lives. To that end, let us introduce the new Special Edition "Ghost" Traveler.

An affectionate callback to the futuristic tech of Y2K and beyond, this unique Traveler design features a clear body that will help you see things in a whole new way as you work through the guts of your story.

Ghost Double Pane

Ghost Closeup 2

Transparency At Its Finest

What do the 1939 World’s Fair and your childhood Nintendo controller have in common?

The Clear Craze.

Complex products in clear housing have been wowing audiences since 1939, when General Motors unveiled the Pontiac Ghost, the first transparent car in the U.S., as part of their “Futurama” exhibit. The Pontiac Ghost gave people a peek under the hood — literally — and was supposed to be a glimpse of the future.

Well, we’re not all driving around in clear cars these days. But you probably did notice the Clear Craze in the 80s and 90s.

From Crystal Pepsi to Tamagotchis, translucent iMacs and that Conair Clear Light-up phone that your sister used to tie up the phone line, transparent products became ubiquitous.

(They were also common in prisons, for security reasons, but we don’t expect you to know about that.)

Ghost in use

It’s What’s On The Inside That Counts

Feel like a kid again and rediscover the joy of writing without boundaries. When you bring a little play back to your writing process, you’ll never guess where the stories will take you.

So be weird. Do the unexpected. Grab Ghost before it’s gone.

We’ve only made one batch, so get your order in and start seeing things like never before.

Ghost Order Now

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I spent a decade correcting people's grammar. (Not in an insufferable way. I was getting paid to do it.) Now I write without correcting my own.

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Whether he's acting or writing, Wesley MacInnes finds a starting point for each creative project in freewriting.

September 10, 2026 • 2 min read

The winning short story in the 2026 Freewrite 500 is "Deathbed Victory" by Rocky Halpern.

I wish my mother could be a little less enthusiastic about losing weight from chemotherapy. Her sharp wrists and angular neck are trophies others remark upon. They look past her hair and eyebrows that are like hay carried away by a thunderstorm and ask if she’s doing keto or mediterranean. 

The world is mesmerized by shrinking things. Mini candy bars, happy meal toys, tiny dogs that fit inside a purse, dollhouses, adults who weigh as much as children. 

My mother wants me to go on Ozempic. I sit next to her hospital bed, and she wraps her wisp of a hand around my thick, pulsing wrist. She asks me to dream of wearing matching bikinis on the shores of a tropical beach. She wants me to share in her religion, recite the sacred text: Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. 

But chemo has rubbed her tastebuds down to a dull throb, so what does she know about it anyway? 

She dozes off as evening begins to creep. The TV mounted to the wall across from the bed plays a muted rerun of Friends, the one where Monica wears a fatsuit. She is half my size, at least. I turn off the TV, let go of my mother’s hand, and head toward the cafeteria. 

I examine limp premade salads, gray tuna fish sandwiches, and an unmanned make-your-own smoothie station. Eating dinner here doesn’t leave me with much of an appetite. Maybe I don’t need weight loss medication after all, I can just skulk the halls and wonder how much time we have left together. 

How much of that time will my mother spend wishing there was less of me? 

How much less of her can there be before she disappears? 

A nurse is checking her vitals when I return to the room. My mother looks at me, laughs softly, and asks the nurse, Can you believe she used to fit inside of me? 

I think of how we must have been, her warm body encasing mine like a bacon-wrapped date. I wonder if she ate hot fudge sundaes when she was pregnant with me. I wonder if there is a single moment of her life where she didn’t feel terrified of her body. 

My mother is a ghost and it’s the proudest she’s ever been, her deathbed victory lap. Somewhere, Jenny Craig sheds a tear and whispers into the ether, It’s not just about losing weight; it's about gaining life.