Guest post by Dear Future Me author Deborah O’Connor
Deborah O’Connor is a writer and TV producer. She lives in North Yorkshire with her husband and daughter. Deborah’s first novel was the bestseller My Husband’s Son, followed by lauded thrillers The Dangerous Kind and The Captive, a Times Book of the Month. Dear Future Me is her fourth novel.
About Dear Future Me (out June 3rd 2025): From bestselling author Deborah O’Connor comes a searing thriller that exposes the grief, guilt, and secrets that riddle a small town, uncovering the far-reaching consequences of a decades-old tragedy.
Dear Future Me (aka Nerd Daily, Version 2030),
Sooooo… this is kind of strange. I’m writing to us – you, but five years older – like we’re two different people. Which I guess we are? I mean, a LOT can happen in five years. Like, maybe you’ve finally launched that fully immersive reading experience where users can literally step into their favourite books (please tell me the technology finally caught up with the dream)… Or maybe you’ve finally cracked that 10,000 word feature on the evolution of the unreliable narrator in psychological thrillers – the one that had authors quoting you at festivals and true crime podcasters referencing it like gospel. Either way, hi. How are you?
Before I dive into all the hopes and pixelated dreams, I want to say: I hope you’re okay. Like, really okay. Not just pageview-stats-are-up okay, but hearts-full-of-joy, still-swooning-over-new-worlds okay. These past few years… whew. They’ve been wild, haven’t they? And yet here we still are. Still telling stories. Still geeking out about them. Still completely besotted with books and characters and creators who shape the cosmos with a keyboard.
You remember the early days, don’t you? Back when this all began with Elise Dumpleton: founder, firestarter, spreadsheet queen. She took her Internet Communications degree, her deep love for all things books and TV, and built us from scratch. Not just a website, but a home. A haven for writers from around the world who shared one guiding principle: stories matter. Stories change people. And nerds? Nerds rule.
By 2025, we’d already racked up some big wins. The podcast was humming. We’d interviewed absolute icons: Lou Diamond Phillips, Lydia Ainsworth, heck, even BONZIE turned out to be a full-on bookworm. Our readers came to us for book reviews that felt like whispered secrets under the duvet, for movie breakdowns that could convert even the most reluctant Marvel skeptic, and for our ridiculously popular ‘20 Books You NEED This Year’ round-ups (which, let’s face it, were also a handy wishlist for ourselves).
But I also remember the harder stuff. When we worried about AI swallowing content whole. The late nights. But we didn’t give up. We adapted. And look at you now. Future Nerd Daily, you beautiful beast. I hope you’ve evolved into a hybrid hub, a place where digital storytelling meets immersive fandom. Maybe your TikTok mini-documentaries are taught in media studies classes. Maybe your audio essays are featured in school curriculums. Maybe you’ve created your own community-led graphic novel or hosted a real-life retreat for your readers (with matching merch, obviously, limited edition, ethically sourced, and impossibly cool).
Mostly, I hope you’ve stayed you. Intimate, passionate, a little obsessive in the best way. Still spotlighting under-the-radar authors before anyone else. Still giving new voices a platform. Still remembering that representation isn’t a trend, it’s the whole damn point.
I hope you’ve still got that generous, inquisitive, fiercely nerdy spirit that makes this site feel like a conversation at 3AM between kindred minds, that you still get that electric jolt when a debut novel knocks you sideways. That you still open your inbox hoping for galleys with the same fluttery thrill as a kid opening Pokémon cards. That the magic never wore off. I’m proud of you. Seriously. The kind of proud that fills a browser with tabs and a soul with starlight. You built a world. You invited everyone in. And you made being a nerd feel like coming home.
So here’s to the next five years. Let’s keep being the weird, loving, nerdy space we needed back then, and still need now.
Always,
You. The 2025 Version.
Who still cries over character deaths.
Who still dreams of AR-enhanced literary cosplay.
Who still believes stories can save us.
P.S. If you finally interviewed Donna Tartt I hope you were cool about it. You probably weren’t. But I hope you tried.
