an introduction

what happens when a writer misses writing.

when i first decided to launch a newsletter, i was mortified.

every writer i knew had one or was at least mulling on ideas for one, and it seemed the next step in an increasingly histrionic existence as a Person On Twitter.

so i didn’t. a couple years passed, as did a few jobs, and suddenly it’s the end of 2022, i have a job i love but i struggle to find creative fulfillment from, and i hesitate to call myself a writer anymore even though i peddle words for a living.

at a late cocktail hour, a colleague tells me he’s launching a substack in 2023. and i feel something a little like jealousy, a lot like yearning, and more than vaguely wistful, but i blame it on the three or so gin drinks i’d had and kept it moving.

but it sticks with me, and in the days that pass i start thinking about what i would say if i had a space all my own. would it just be a diary? (maybe.) would anyone read it? (probably not.) would i earnestly type in all lowercase so it didn’t feel like one of the novels i’ve written, currently collecting dust on my bookshelf as i avert my eyes as i pass? (…. yes.)

but the first step tends to be the hardest, and so here it is. i wish i could tell you what the subject of my substack will be, but the simplest answer is the most boring one: it’s just about me. my thoughts, my interests, the people i know, the dreams i have, and the initiatives i want to bring to life through words. i don’t feel like i need to change the world through a newsletter, but i don’t want the lessons i’m learning as i coast into my mid-thirties and the beautiful parts of life that deserve to be shared to wither away in the sands of time (also known as my rapidly-weakening short term memory).

and so i’ll document it here. on substack. where i’m just another writer with just another take. if i write something earth-shattering, what luck. if i just document the best tuna fish sandwich i’ve ever had, that’s delightful too.

it’s a relief to do something because you love it and not as a means to an end. it’s a joy to write for the sheer thrill of putting an intangible feeling to paper, defining a moment in something more solid than the recesses of memory.

i hope you’ll read along.