When Emily and I talk about where we’d like to travel, I undoubtedly bring up the idea of going somewhere dark and cold, somewhere moody. Perhaps it’s how quiet I imagine these places to be, or the sturdy community of people I’d meet who have built their lives there, or the solitude I might find amongst the rock, the rain, and the mist. I long for these places. 

As some of you know, writing has been an increasingly more significant part of my life over the last ten or so years. I’ve spent each of my early mornings working on personal essays, poetry, and I finished my first novel this year. 

My hope with this newsletter is that I can share some of this writing along with the places and stories that inspire me. I’m currently seeking representation for my novel and actively submitting shorter work but I’m eager to share some of it because, what is art for if not for sharing? And, life feels too short and precious right now to not share this part of me. 

So, what is a moody place? 

I like to think of them existing on the edges—somewhere in between—as if a place has been carved out of a wild landscape with a blade so sharp you can hardly see the cut. They are places prone to unpredictable bouts of gloom and beauty. They are fickle and raw and encourage resilience. They are subtle and sublime.