A little honest backstory:

In January of 2014, I launched a website for my passion project called “Wildheart.” My goal was to create a quarterly print magazine, focusing on what, exactly, it means to be a woman living in Alaska. It was to be a source of encouragement and community, and a balm to the depression I’d been living with that winter. It was the culmination of what I yearned for as a newlywed who that year had left the church, quit her soul-killing job, and lost many of her friends (see: leaving the church). It was impossible to do alone, and yet, I was afraid and that’s exactly what I was trying to do. I had people supporting me and offering to help in many ways, but lacked the community that I so wanted to display within those pages. I had the vision, but I was more insecure than I was brave.

Around the same time, I found myself employed at an incredible new artistic job–one that I didn’t realize was going to take up a considerable amount of my time, energy, and life for the next four years. With the doubts I’d already been feeling about Wildheart, I gradually let the dream slip to the back burner. “I’ll come back to it someday,” I would say to myself. That back burner eventually felt more like a wastebasket–the kind where bad ideas go to die. Sometimes people would ask me about it, and I could only shake my head and say things like, “Where would I find the time?”

Time became my enemy. Where once I had felt carefree and whimsical, I had become a…well, an adult. I became the kind of person I didn’t anticipate, with an early bedtime, two mortgages, and a habit of saying no to fun things. There’s never enough time. But changing how I perceive time, is key. Have you ever noticed how time seems to expand when you’re spending it on something you really enjoy?

I haven’t actually been as miserable as I’ve made it sound; I have accomplished a lot, learned even more, and find myself surer than I’ve ever been about who I am and what I want out of life right now. And it would appear that I want more. More time, more creation, more magic, more me.

So here we are, four years later. Last year brought about a lot of clarity and forward motion, with the biggest realization being: Wildheart is still–somehow, amazingly, thankfully–alive. Many signs point to the time being right, so I’m jumping in. I have a partner in crime who, thanks to a heart-to-heart and some very real soul-searching for both of us, is in it to win it with me. I now know so many beautiful, amazing, strong, talented, REAL FLESH AND BLOOD, women. All of these women have stories about their experience living in Alaska, and not a single story is the same as another’s. You are one of these women.

I’ve written you this letter because I know for certain that you have incredible stories inside you, and I want to hear them. If you don’t consider yourself a writer but still want to be involved in some way, let’s go to coffee and we can talk about it. You’re someone that I want in our corner.

So much love,

Jordan

PS – Did someone come to mind while you were reading this? Please connect us!