Publishing lessons

It’s Friday afternoon, and for many business owners around the world—big and small—it’s going to be a hard weekend.

Right now, a lot of people in our industry are fearing the worst. They’re staring down uncertainty, and instead of getting rest, they’ll be wondering: What does tomorrow look like? As I shared yesterday, the board game industry is in crisis—and it feels like we’re only at the beginning.

We’ve seen a lot of people opening up and sharing their stories, their fears, and their perspectives—people like Jamey from Stonemaier Games who wrote The Darkest Timeline, and W. Eric Martin sharing views from 1,200 publishers. And today, I want to make a small request for those of you willing to help.

This isn’t a request for money. It won’t take more than a few minutes of your time.

A Simple Request

I’d like you to take a moment to think about your favourite board game designer, publisher, or small creator—anyone whose work has made a difference in your life.

Think about how something they’ve made, or something they’ve done, has impacted you.

Then, let them know.

It’s hard to say how we’re all going to move forward right now. But one thing that always holds true is that in the darkest of times, people need light. They need a reminder of why they do what they do—so they can keep going, even when the road ahead is uncertain.

A Message That Hit Home

This morning, I woke up to a message from a gentleman whose wife had just undergone an 8-hour surgery for cancer. She’s still in hospital now, in recovery, and still in immense pain—but healing.

He said to me: Thank you for The Isle of Cats.

He and his wife had spent the day playing it together—three times. It brought them laughter. It brought them joy. In a moment of suffering, it gave them something else to feel. It helped them heal, if only a little.

It brought a tear to my eye.

Why I Make Games

People create things for all sorts of reasons. For me, I make games because I want to bring joy to people. I want to offer moments of happiness, connection, and relief. And every time someone reminds me that something I made helped them—especially in a hard moment—it stays with me. Every single one of them.

I remember my first ever board game convention, showing The City of Kings to people for the first time. An older gentleman came over and I—perhaps naively—assumed the game might be too complex for him (I’ve learned a lot since then). I asked if he’d like to hear about it.

He said, “I’ve got it. It’s the game I was always hoping for.”

He told me that he and his wife, now both retired, play it together in their conservatory every day. He had come over simply to say thank you.

I’ve had people ask to base their weddings around my games. I’ve seen themed events, tattoos, entire weekends built around the stories and worlds I’ve created. These are the highlights of what I do. These are the reasons I keep going.

Be Someone’s Light

This weekend is going to be rough for a lot of people—creators, publishers, and shop owners alike. Some are wondering whether their business is going to survive. Others are wondering if there is any point in continuing to work on their next release.

So if there’s someone whose work has ever meant something to you—whether it’s a designer, a publisher, or just a local maker who brought something good into your life—take a few minutes and let them know.

Send an email. Write a Facebook comment. Leave a tweet, a BGG message, or anything at all. It doesn’t matter whether it’s public or private. I promise you: it will mean the world to them.

Because reading those messages—hearing that their work brought joy, laughter, or even just a smile—might be the exact thing they need right now to keep moving forward.

It may feel like a small gesture, but trust me—it’s not. A kind word can be the spark that keeps someone going. And right now, that spark matters more than ever.