A Fresh Start
"It is a fact that we tribes of suffering men never plant our feet firmly upon the path of joy, but there is ever some bitter pain to keep company with our delight.” ― Apollonius of Rhodes
Yes, it's true.
Months have passed since I've written.
The newsletters haven't gotten lost in your filters.
You haven't been accidentally unsubscribed.
When we started traveling again last spring, I found myself too immersed in new experiences to articulate them. I felt like a tree so overwhelmed by fruit that its limbs begin to crack. Rather than pick what I feared may not be ripe, I propped up the heavy branches with two-by-fours of silence.
And we did get around. Pisa, Florence, Gorizia, Izola, Ljubljana, Venice, Bordeaux, Riberac, Cambridge, Ponta Delgada, Boston, New York, and now I greet you with Gamarjoba! from the Republic of Georgia.
When we weren't traveling, I told myself that my first novel (and lifelong ambition) was the priority, so I let these weekly letters slide.
And while there is legitimacy in the excuses—traveling IS disruptive to routine, I DO need to finish that novel, it IS genuinely difficult to learn to write again after devoting every waking moment to a restaurant for five years—I've come to realize that the root of the issue is more troubling. At some point, for me, writing became a private struggle against death when it should be an open embrace of life.
This has led me to treat my “real” work as a dragon guarded secret and an endless opportunity for self-rebuke. To prefer an unfinished novel no one has seen to a casual newsletter with more than a thousand subscribers including those I cherish most in the world.
Literature saved my life because it broke through the loneliness and alienation of my youth, and yet now I find myself trying to constrain this miraculous technology of intimacy and connection with those same forces. Is perfectionism always a minor suicide? Probably.
And so, while Sarah continues her winemaking apprenticeships (she's currently with working with Niko at Kapistoni Winery in a certified Eco-Zone in the Saguramo village of the Mtskheta region), I have rented an apartment in the small, charming, ancient city of Kutaisi, the original home of the Golden Fleece, to finish this novel and at last turn my face from the shadows to the sun.
Don't worry though, this newsletter won't become a substitute for therapy. I'll still bring you news of the world, gorgeous moments like the gluten free croissant in Florence that made Sarah cry with joy, portraits of Slovenian winemakers, rhapsodies in Moravian Pinot Noir, recipes for goat shanks braised with fresh plums, and insights into Sarah's extraordinary winemaking journey. I simply felt that I owed you, and most of all myself, an explanation, and that this explanation might open the way for a sustainable continuation of this project.
In that vein, I'm looking for a few early readers of my novel, Hunger the Giant. I'm on track to finish a “good enough to send to agents” draft by the end of October. If you'd like to take a peek, I'll send you the first chapter along with some guidelines for feedback. If you like what you see, I'll send you more. If at any time the story loses you or you are too busy to continue you can just stop replying. There will be no hard feelings. I know that life can be wild and not every book is for every reader.
I'm not quite ready to origami the book into an elevator pitch, but it's influenced by magical realism, mythology, folklore, and the Oulipo folks and could probably be classified as eco-fiction. It's set in rural Kansas and Inwood, NYC, in the past, present, and future. If you're curious, let me know.
We'll return to our regularly scheduled programming next week with the harrowing tale of how a lost street kitten was rescued a car engine in the middle of Tbilisi traffic only to become the new Kapistoni winery cat—and other food, wine, and travel news.
All the best of dark and light,
William
Sarah in her element
This is the winemaker’s mom, Keti. Sarah staying in her basement apartment during the harvest. She is generous, fun, and a world traveler too. We love you Keti!
My view in Kutaisi of the Bagrati Cathedral and mountains beyond. Endless inspiration.