A New Home for Connecting Conversations
Moving and gathering ‘round new fires
I started writing a newsletter in July 2019. It was perhaps more of a surprise to me than anyone else. I’ve always loved words and the somatic experience of reading, writing and speaking them. The right words tingle on skin and wrap around lips. But choosing some and sharing them with others? That was terrifying. Which is exactly why I did it.
As the newsletter approaches its fourth birthday, I realise it’s my longest running project or job. As a self employed, creative person, jobs are often short, sweet and connected only by my interest in them. Sending regular work straight to people in their homes has been the most consistent thing I’ve done, and I love it.
I love scribbling incoherent notes on page corners throughout the week. I love sitting to write, with cup of tea and a candle. Or sometimes straight into my phone on the bus, when the words are right there, and I’m afraid of missing them. I love scheduling it for 4am, to accompany the new parents and the night owls. I love sending it on Sundays: a day traditionally involving newspapers and mugs of tea, in my childhood home. I love receiving replies, comments, posts and messages with thoughts, resonances, recommendations and stories. I love the stories. But so much of this love lives with me, hidden away in my inbox, and the name says it all: I initiated this thing for the purpose of connection.
So I’m moving. I’m landing here, in Substack, where so many of the writers and makers I admire and follow are making their things. I’m hoping to be more connected, but I also want to loudly encourage connection between my readers. I’m a space-maker: A host. I don’t want to build a shiny new complex and give you all passes; I want to meet in the forest and let our roots chat to one another. Maybe light a fire, toast marshmallows and sip a little whisky.
So, what does subscribing look like here?
Well, if you’re someone who’s already been following my written work, I’m essentially combining a newsletter mailing list, a lovely handful of patron supporters and leaving a thick margin of growing room for new thoughts and projects.
I’m going to do some working out as I go along; some cuttings are ready to move from greenhouse to deeper soil, and others are withering. That’s ok. What I do know, is there will always be smattering of the kind of writing people are reading around the breakfast table, because that image brings me too much joy to stop.
Growing and building on some of what I’ve started on Patreon, you can also expect audio notes, noisy signposting towards big (and small) ideas, sketchbook deep dives and plans for live events…
The option to pay for your subscription is there. Occasionally, I’m asked how you can buy me a coffee in exchange for your morning reading, so here’s that option. Two things on that, though:
Community and conversation in this space are why I’m here. If you’re a peer, a curious comrade, and you want the whole lot without being able to support financially, please wave. We can sort that.
There’s an option to gift subscriptions to others. If you can, and you want to, do.
I want to be open and honest about my intention to grow this space, and my work, slowly. Sometimes I’ll write more, sometimes less. Sometimes I’ll take a holiday. Sometimes I’ll take a walk. Sometimes I have to give all my attention to current commissions or being the best pal I can. As a person currently living in a chronically ill body, sometimes I need to sack off screens entirely. I want to work in a way I hope my future ancestors will take for granted: with care, with intention, valuing intuition and rest. I’ve noted, and enjoyed, how some creatives have collaborative and guest writer spots, and others pause subscriptions for true quiet. However I choose to play it, I hope you’ll feel free to do what feels good for you.
Glad you’re here.