May It Last

Entering a new era of Good Folk.

Hi Folks,

Long time, no see. It feels like it has been a much longer hiatus than we initially planned, but I, for one, am thrilled to be back here behind my computer screen writing to you all again. Trust me when I say that doing this is my favorite thing I get to do, and I have sincerely missed all of you the last few weeks.

I’ve been thinking a lot during this time about growth and progress and patience and trust, specifically what it means to put your trust in the creative process and not rush anything. I think I have spent most of my life as an artist trying to control the process— stressing about submissions, feeling envious of anyone I deemed to have greater success, constantly thinking about what successful artistry looked like and feeling I would never get there (I even wrote about it a few months ago in the newsletter). But in the last few weeks I think I finally felt a shift. I release that stress. It is impossible to make any kind of art that I feel good about with that stress hanging over me. Taking this period of time to reflect and think about the ultimate goals I have for this project has allowed me to get serious with it— and to replenish the energy required to really create what I set out to do when I initially launched this newsletter.

The Avett Brothers, one of my favorite bands of all time and two people whose work deeply impacted my return to the South, write in their song “Make It Last”:

"There is a sea and I am a captain
Of something unknown, waves high as mountains
There is a key and there is a lie
Here's to times that I catch it
May it last through the night..."

I don’t know what the future holds, both for this project and for the American South as a whole, but I know that somehow, we will be a part of it. For anyone lost and confused and trying to find their way back home, we will be here. Stories, throughout history, have always been the glue that holds communities together during periods of great transition. Today’s America— and especially the South— are in a time of upheaval and change. We are on this journey with you; we will navigate this crossroads together.

Today I am excited to announce a new era of Good Folk, as well as a few new exciting developments and ways to support this project.

Firstly, I present to you our brand-spankin-new Good Folk website, which will house all things Good Folk, including more information about the project, our newsletter and podcast archive, and any information about upcoming events such as writing workshops and community gatherings (stay tuned for more on both of those soon!). You can find the site at www.goodfolksonly.org. If you follow us on social media, you might also notice we have a fun new logo as well.

With that, I am excited to announce the official launch of the Good Folk podcast, which has been in the works ever since I first launched this newsletter. The podcast will feature individuals in, around, and from rural and Southern communities. We’ll be conversing with our podcast guests about art, stories, their work in rural areas, how we can shift media narratives, and where we go from here, among other things. I won’t give too much away, but we are already working on an incredible lineup of humans, and trust me when I say these are some conversations you will want to tune into.

Our very first podcast guest is someone who has been deeply influential in the creation of Good Folk from the beginning, and has also been vital in helping make this new era of Good Folk possible. With that, I am honored to introduce you to Victoria Landers, an incredible photographer and dear friend of mine, who has officially joined the Good Folk team as our Head of Media and Design. Victoria hails from Moore County, North Carolina, where they currently work in the nonprofit education sector. Our conversation touches on some of my favorite topics, such as rural artistry, home and identity, the importance of representation, and more. You can listen to that conversation in the email that will drop into your inbox shortly, and through Spotify and Apple later today.

Lastly, I would like to introduce a few different ways that you can support this project as we continue to grow and expand.

As of today, we are launching a paid subscriber model for the newsletter. I have always felt conflicted about asking for payment, but I also believe stories have value. It is important to me to pay our contributors to Good Folk, and a paid newsletter model will enable us to do so. All regular content will remain free, but subscribers will receive extra perks, such as podcast transcripts, bonus Resource Roundups, and deeper dives into Southern folklore history. All subscribers will also receive a Good Folk sticker and handwritten welcome letter expressing my sincere gratitude for supporting this work.

Our suggested donation is a $5 monthly subscription, or you can choose to opt-in for a yearly subscription at $50. There will also be some extra perks for yearly subscribers and founding members at the end of the year, which I don’t want to give away yet, but I promise they will be good.

As a project run by young artists, you can trust us when we say that we are deeply grateful for any and all support, and if you have any questions about paid subscriptions feel free to email us at goodfolksonly@gmail.com.

One of the core missions of Good Folk has always been to create a platform for those in rural and Southern areas to share their stories, as well as equipping readers with the tools to learn how to tell them. We will soon be announcing free, donation-based virtual writing workshops geared towards this, as well as some in-person events for anyone based in North Carolina. Stay tuned!

Lastly, follow us on TikTok at @goodfolksonly, where we will be sharing clips from the podcast alongside other chaotic content.

Whew, OK. I think that’s everything. I know that I just threw a lot of information into one newsletter, so again, feel free to comment or email with any questions.

I am so excited to be back here with you all as we begin this new journey together. This project is the community I’ve always dreamt of; it is my light in the darkness. In the wise words of The Avett Brothers, may it last through the night.

See you soon.

---