Hey there, folks.
I’ve tried writing this a few times. Thank goodness I finally found my breakthrough.
I got some sage advice over beers the other night. It equated to this: You can’t stare at the past. You can glance every once in a while, but do yourself a favor and don’t stare.
Sometimes a handful of words can unlock the feelings you’ve tried (and failed) to explain. Unfortunately, you can’t rush the writing process to make sense sooner. What I’ve been trying to say through the previous typing and deleting is that I’m guilty. I’ve stared at the past too much.
This is the next step in changing that.
My name is Ethan Joyce. To those of you who know me, know you’re appreciated. For those who don’t, I’m really happy to meet you this way.
I’m a former college football reporter. I’m a fairly new dad. I’m a 30-something trying to figure out his purpose. I’m a guy who’s done a lot of therapy the last calendar year. I’m not getting any better at wheel throwing pottery, but I’m at least really good at playing in mud. I’m from the foothills of North Carolina. I’m proud of where I’m from, and I’m also proud I’ve seen other parts of the world and met a ton of people who are different from me.
For the purpose of this newsletter, though, I’m a guy ready to look forward.
My life has changed a lot over the last couple years. I’ll spare you depth for now, but a brief recap. I got burned out by having dreams in the brutal journalism industry at a newspaper I loved. I thought I saw a career come to an end. I became a father to a now 1-year-old boy.
That combo was a lot to take in. Enough to rattle an identity. I’ve just now found myself on steady footing again.
There has been a lot on my mind this last little bit. If I tried hard enough, I could probably write an all-encompassing list of the wondering and worrying I’ve done.
In short, though, almost all those thoughts dealt with the same topic: Joy. Mainly, where and how a person finds it.
With so much to be happy about, I stared at stuff in the past that I couldn’t have. And truthful, I hated myself for that. I defined so much of myself through my career. I was good at it. I loved it. But all that staring led to overwhelming sadness.
Now, I’m dedicating my gaze to finding the beacons of joy. I want to learn more. What is joy, and where does it come from for people around the U.S. and the world? What brings us joy can look so different, but we can still connect over that feeling, too.
So consider this newsletter a declaration. I’m no longer thinking about the joy I can’t reach. I’m going to chase the joy that I want. I want to understand why others chase joy and the ways they do.
As of right now, here is my plan: I got this model from Tommy Tomlinson, a writer who I look up to and a person I am lucky enough to call a friend. Each post will be shared freely. But I’ll also give you the option to be a paid subscriber. If, out of the kindness of your heart, you decide to support me, I will love you unconditionally. If this thing ever gets big enough to have swag, you’ll definitely get some. My goal will be to eventually make this a subscriber-only newsletter, but I’m not ready for that right now.
I’m excited for this project and where it can go. Here’s to looking forward together.
As I close, here are a few things that spark the joy in my spirit:
- When I reach back to grab my son’s hand on our drive to daycare. If I twist my shoulder just right, I can get my right hand just in front of his sight line. His little hand used to barely wrap around my index finger. I can’t get over how much bigger his hand has gotten already.
- The way my wife’s top lip curls when she smiles. We’re going on 13 years of being together (we’ve been married six years), and I strive to make her smile more now than ever.
- Boone, N.C. and the feeling I get in my soul when I’m up there. I met my wife there. We got married there. We are going to live there someday, I just know it. You can only ignore a tether like that for so long.
- My newly beloved Everton Football Club (which I will probably write about more in one of my next newsletters). I didn’t know I could connect with something as a fan the way I do with that club. Now they are absolutely terrible, but they are mine.
- A deep breath on a cool mountain morning. It’s the freshest air you can get.
- The feeling when I ask a really insightful question. When I interviewed people regularly, those moments would be the kindling for my entire storytelling process. They were pure dopamine.
- A slug of a beer so cold that it almost hurts your chest on the way down. It’s never too cold to take another sip, though.
- A popcorn kernel suspended between popped and unpopped. You know what I’m talking about. They’re those last few pieces you fish out of a microwave popcorn bag.
- The opening notes of “Mo Bamba.” That song is no longer cool but will forever be my anthem.
- A fresh-out-of-the-oven Neapolitan pizza. Don’t get it for delivery. It ruins it. (I have a lot of food-related joy and I can’t help it. Food is so good.)
- Connecting with people, especially those from different places with different experiences. The journalism project I’m proudest of was on Hispanic and Latino college football coaches at the Division I level. I share it whenever I can. You can read it here: https://bit.ly/3xJZJYl.
There are so many more, I know. They’ll come up as we go. Hopefully along the way, you’ll share this with a friend or two and help me in growing this fun-loving crew.
Take care and thanks for reading,
Ethan
Ethan, you were born to be a joy spreader!
Ethan!! This made me so happy to read. Keep going. Can’t wait for the next 🙂