Our story
A century and a half of technology changed how the record of your working life moves, and never what it could say. Meanwhile the work stopped looking like a ladder.
Think about what you actually did this week.
You probably wrote something. Fixed something someone else made. Sat in a call that changed a plan. Learned a tool well enough to be the person who knows it. Made a decision that saved a fortnight, and left no trace anywhere.
Now think about how you'd prove any of it to someone who wasn't there.
The document is older than you think
The CV is an Industrial Revolution artefact.
When work moved into factories and offices, employers needed a way to compare strangers at scale, and what they settled on was a paper record of positions held: one employer, one title, one date to the next. It was designed for a working life that looked like a ladder, because for a lot of people it was one.
It was a good solution to that problem. It's just that we never revisited it.
A century of upgrades that changed nothing
The typewriter made it neater. The filing cabinet made it storable. The photocopier made it multipliable. The internet made it instant, then searchable, then a form you paste into a box.
Every one of those was a real advance in how the document moved. Not one of them changed what the document could say.
A hundred and fifty years of technology, and the artefact came through essentially unaltered: a list of titles, in order, with dates.
Then the work changed shape
People do several kinds of work at once now, the same person doing content and partnerships and a bit of product, in the same month, sometimes in the same week. The tools turn over every year or two, so what you're fluent in today isn't what you trained on. And most of what someone is genuinely good at happens inside a product with someone else's name on it, under an NDA, or in a process nobody outside the company ever sees.
The document didn't change. The work did.
So we've all been describing branching, overlapping, fast-moving work using a form built to record a ladder, and then wondering why nobody can tell what we're actually good at.
That's where Litterae comes in
Litterae is a feed. You post work-related things as you do them (a video, a screenshot, a process, something you figured out) and you tag them: what you used, what kind of work it was, what you're open to.
The feed is the product. Everything published lands in one place and is browsed by tag rather than by name. Which flips who has to do the finding: instead of sending someone your work, the way a portfolio or a deck asks you to, someone browses work they care about and arrives at you.
And your profile isn't a thing you maintain. It's what the feed leaves behind: everything you've posted, the tools that keep recurring across it, what you've said you're open to. It describes what you've actually been doing lately, because it's made of what you actually did.
We're early, and it shows
A tag with nothing behind it is just a word, and a feed is only worth browsing once there's something in it. That part isn't something we can build. It's something people have to post.
So this is less a launch than an invitation. If your work is hard to prove from the outside, if you do more than your title says, or work across several things, or your best output lives inside someone else's product, post some of it. Tag it properly. See who arrives.
Litterae is for being found for what you actually do.