How could fake retirement pull you from burnout?

This week's experiment is about tricking your burnt-out brain into seeing your current job through fresh eyes.

Burnout resembles feeling caught between the life we have and the life we want but not having energy to do either.

In this week's experiment, we'll explore the concept of ‘fake retirement’ through the lens of Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less by Greg McKeown.

If you’ve ever read Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle by Emily and Amelia Nagoski, you’ll know that burnout isn’t just about working too hard—it’s about getting stuck in a stress loop you never complete. This book reminds us that burnout isn’t just emotional; it’s physical, too. The chronic stress of juggling a job you dread and a dream you crave leaves your body and brain in a constant state of fight-or-flight. Before you can escape, you need to find ways to break that cycle—whether that’s through movement, creativity, or even moments of connection.

Here's the thing, though: quitting isn't always an option. Bills exist. Groceries cost money. Your landlord probably won't accept "but I'm following my dreams!" as valid currency. So what's an aspiring full-time writer to do when they can't afford to just quit? 

Enter the concept of "fake retirement."

No, I'm not talking about that fantasy where you win the lottery and spend the rest of your days sipping cocktails on a beach (though if that happens, definitely invite me). This is about tricking your burnt-out brain into seeing your current job through fresh eyes. 

The idea comes from productivity writer Greg McKeown in Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less. But I want you to forget about maximising your efficiency for a hot second. This isn't about cramming more work into your day. It's about survival and sanity until you can make that grand escape. McKeown’s philosophy of focusing only on what truly matters aligns perfectly with this strategy. When you act like a consultant—selecting tasks and ignoring the rest—you take back control of your workday, one decision at a time.

Here's how it works

Pretend – yes, actually pretend, like you're a kid playing make-believe – that you've retired from your current role. Now imagine you've been brought back as a consultant. Someone who gets to be selective about what they take on. 

With this new mindset, ask yourself: 

• What parts of my job would I actually choose to do if I had complete autonomy? 

• How would I approach my work differently if I wasn't caught up in office politics and climbing the corporate ladder? 

• What aspects of my role align with the skills I want to develop for my writing career? 

This mental shift isn't about working less. It's about reclaiming some sense of agency in a situation where you might feel powerless. 

It also ties beautifully into Mark Manson’s The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fck*. Manson argues that most of us waste energy on things that don’t matter—office drama, unnecessary meetings, or tasks that won’t move the needle for our dreams. When you embrace this consultant mindset, you can start saying “no” to what doesn’t serve you and “yes” to what helps you build the life you actually want.

Now, this is NOT some magical cure.

Changing your mindset doesn't fix toxic work environments or suddenly make your manager less of a micromanaging nightmare. But it might – might – help you coast a little easier until your Substack hits that critical point of paid subscribers. 

The beauty of this approach for aspiring writers is that it encourages you to look at your full-time job as a kind of research opportunity. Every insufferable meeting becomes potential material. The bizarre corporate jargon that makes you want to tear your hair out? Comedy gold for your newsletter. 

Austin Kleon’s Steal Like an Artist takes this idea and runs with it. Kleon’s philosophy is that creativity isn’t about starting from scratch—it’s about remixing what’s already in front of you. That endless team meeting? That’s not a waste of time; it’s fodder for a future essay. That overly cheery corporate memo? Instant content inspiration. By reframing your day job as a source of material, you start to reclaim its value, even when it feels meaningless.

But what about the big picture?

The truth is, coasting through your current job isn’t enough. You need an escape plan, and that’s where James Clear’s Atomic Habits comes in. Clear’s advice on building small, consistent habits is perfect for anyone trying to balance a side hustle with a full-time job. Write for 15 minutes every morning. Draft one Substack post a week. These micro-habits add up, creating the momentum you need to eventually make writing your full-time gig.

Still, knowing when to walk away is just as important as knowing how to keep going. That’s where Annie Duke’s Quit: The Power of Knowing When to Walk Away shines. Duke emphasizes the value of setting clear “kill criteria”—objective markers that tell you when it’s time to pivot. Maybe it’s reaching a certain number of subscribers. Maybe it’s saving a specific amount of money. Whatever your criteria, Duke’s framework helps you quit with confidence, rather than guilt.

And when quitting feels impossibly hard, Angela Duckworth’s Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance reminds us that persistence matters—but only when it’s aligned with what we truly want. Burnout doesn’t mean you’re weak; it means you’ve been grinding without purpose. Duckworth’s work reinforces your message: this job is the bridge, not the destination.

So yeah, keep working on that exit strategy. Keep pouring your heart into your writing. But in the meantime, try on this "fake retirement" hat. See if it helps you show up to your day job with a little less dread and a little more curiosity.

As Bill Perkins argues in Die With Zero, time is our most valuable resource. Every moment spent doing something you hate is a moment you can’t spend on something you love. But Perkins also reminds us to treat every stage of life with intention. Right now, this job is a stepping stone. Use it wisely. 

Remember: Your current job is not your identity. It's not your future. It's just the bridge you're crossing to get to where you really want to be.