I’ve been away and I’m sorry. The most embarrassing thing you can do, other than start a newsletter, is to suddenly stop writing said newsletter after only five issues. Especially if you don’t give any notice. It’s a sure fire way to make people think you’ve given up; and I’m sure most of you did figure that I gave up or couldn’t handle the immense pressure of writing a newsletter about what’s making me depressed that week. I’m sorry for giving you reason to believe that I was/am that kind of person. I promise you I’m not. I didn’t quit. The last thing I want to do with this newsletter is to just ‘give up’ and have it die a slow and awkward death. If/when I decide to end this, there will be a proper conclusion, probably involving some overly emotional prose. After everything we’ve been through together, silently fading away into the abyss feels way too cowardly. Especially since the whole point of me writing this newsletter is so I can do something that scares me.
My disappearance doesn’t have a real juicy story behind it other than I was busy working on another project that was a bit time sensitive. It’s not a project I can share, and not one anyone needs to know about. Please forgive how aloof I’m being about the whole thing. Keeping a real sense of mystery around my life is my only chance at being seen as interesting. I can confirm that the project has concluded, and there shouldn’t be any more great disappearances. I hope.
During my time away I learned that there's actually very few people in my life who actually know that this newsletter exists.1 Recently I met up with an old teacher who only just found out about it. I’m assuming it was through a link in my email signature2 When I asked if he had read any of my posts, he said he wanted me to ‘sell’ him on it first.3I did give him my pitch, saying that it was “A collection of personal essays, short stories, and cultural reviews about the tragically beautiful world around us.” He still hasn’t subscribed, but that’s a vendetta for another day. The experience made me think about how after my break, I may need to sell you all on why you should keep reading this thing, especially since I’ve shown I can just drop it at a moment's notice. How can I prove to you that subscribing to this newsletter is still worthwhile, that I’m worth it?
The act of convincing anyone to enjoy your art will always feel awkward to me. No one needs to hear me ramble on about how smart and special I think I am. I mean I am the most special little girl in the whole world, but I think that just goes without saying? Whenever I’m around someone who tries to boast about what an amazing writer they are, my eyes start to glaze over. Your talent should always be able to speak for itself. Also, I don’t care if you think you’re great! I care about whether or not you care about your work, and that you put in the time to make it better...Taking three months off my own work probably is the opposite of showing that I care. And going on about how I hate other people’s egos just makes it seem like I think I’m better than them, thus boosting my own ego. Look, if you don’t trust that I won’t ‘go out for a pack of cigarettes’ and never return, I get it. I don’t know if there is anything I can really say to win back your trust. Though I’ll try my best to show that I care; that this newsletter is still worth your time, that I’m still worth your time.
Now some of you may be thinking: “Damn Moriya, you took a couple months off, it's not that deep. I didn’t even notice tbh.” To that I say...fair. I'll let it be and move on.
I do hope that my old teacher will finally subscribe to this newsletter, though I can’t control his actions.4 Nor can I control if you choose to keep reading. With that in mind, I’ll leave you now with the promise that I’ll be back soon, with more. More stories, more cultural reviews, more word vomit formatted as jokes in an attempt to impress you. I hope you’ll enjoy it, and more than that I hope you’ll stick around, because I’ll be here. I promise. 5
Learning the world didn’t revolve around me did rock me to my core and brought me to my knees.
Yes I do link my newsletter in my personal email signature. I’m a professional.
I told him a real fan just subscribes no questions asked, but whatever.
If I know one thing in life it’s that you can’t make men do things. Unless you embarrass them in a public forum. Like a newsletter.
A special shout out to my friend Griffin who subscribed without reading a single word I wrote, because that’s what a real friend does.