The Out There Club
When I write about my dead brother, my father dying now, the trauma I survived — people tell me it gives them permission to exhale. In that mutual exhaling, we both remember God is in the room. Out There Club Members allow me to continue the most important work online, and enjoy the longer writing that no social media platform or algorithm permits.
Members also get one extended essay per month with full archive access as it builds.
What people say when they read
“What a thoughtful way of describing your grief, almost like you were describing mine. [...] I do carry this grief with me everywhere. Every moment is great until you realize that person is missing.”— shiftandfixgarage
“Wow I felt this. Thank you for sharing the hard truths of grief even in the God ordained beauty”— jessicadobey_
“But struggle is what has made me find God and be a better man. So if God has me in a storm this is the first time in my 25 years of life I’ve been able to say "ok God, I’ll wait". Your post just encouraged me so much after a hard day. Thank you and I’m going to pray for you right now.”— anonymous message
What the membership supports
I have one creative goal: write about finding God through loss, wilderness, and learning to be alive, and then share it with others. I post 3-4 of these per week on Instagram, free, for anyone. That’s the mission.
No brand will sponsor those essays. No algorithm rewards them.
Out There Club members support the public-facing work. The hundreds of free captions you’ve read, and the 3-4 to come this week, only exist because members give me the ability and freedom to write them.
Members also receive one extended essay per month. Some stories need more than a caption can hold. An essay about my brother dying needs 3,000 words. The thing that happened when I was seventeen can’t be told in 500. The dichotomy of being both furious at God while standing on the Arctic tundra and grateful for all he has done — Instagram wasn’t built for that.
Those essays can only exist if you fund them directly.
That’s what Out There Club does.
What members get
Your $12 makes the writing possible — the free essays on Instagram and the longer work that lives here. You also receive:
1,500 to 3,000 words about the things I can’t fit into a caption. The essay your feed won’t show you because it’s too long, too honest, or about something no algorithm rewards.
Every extended essay I’ve written for members, available the moment you join.
Engage directly with me via email or join the conversation in the archive’s comments. When someone shares their own story — that’s the window opening for all of us.
Who this is for
If my free essays have helped you breathe — if you’ve read one and thought “me too” — this is for you.
I write about purpose in the wilderness. Not the sanitized version where everything works out and the sunset is metaphorical. The version where your brother is dead and you’re standing on the Arctic tundra and you are furious at God and grateful to God in the same breath, and somehow that is the most honest prayer you’ve ever prayed.
I don’t water it down. I don’t make it fit a tribe.
If you can handle that kind of honesty, you’re in the right place.
Join the Out There Club
If financial means are a barrier to entry, email bryce@brycercampbell.com and I will respond personally.
A few things people ask
Your membership supports the free Instagram essays I write weekly — that’s the main thing. You also receive one extended essay per month, plus access to the full archive as it builds. These are the pieces too long or too raw for Instagram — the writing I can only do when I’m not trying to fit it into a caption.
Never. The free essays are the mission. Putting them behind a wall would defeat the entire point. Your membership supports the free work existing and gives you the longer essays that can’t live on Instagram.
I write about faith honestly, which means I talk about God and Jesus directly. But I don’t require you to believe anything specific to read it. If you’ve ever suffocated and needed someone to open the window — regardless of your theology — you’re welcome here.
My brother’s death. My father dying. The trauma I survived. Learning to share a life with Grace after a lifetime alone. Finding God in the wilderness — not in a greeting card way, but in the way where you’re cold and afraid and angry and somehow still praying.
Of course, and it’s easy. Just shoot me an email: bryce@brycercampbell.com. No guilt, no exit survey, no passive-aggressive email. If the writing doesn't help you feel understood, you should go.
Follow me on Instagram and read the free essays for a while. If you eventually feel like you want to support the work and read the longer stuff, the door’s open. No rush.