TL;DR - please check out the Kickstarter pre-launch page for SLEEPY HOLLOW, 1998, a cozy, nostalgic reimagining of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, delivered to your mailbox as letters, sketches, and artifacts from the era of cassette tapes, flip phones, and zines.

“How are you doing?”

Such a loaded question these days. How to answer without reciting the laundry list of depredations and outrages that seem to be coming from every direction? I generally default to, “I’m still here!” or “the arrow of time is still moving forward, so that’s good.”

I’ve spent the bulk of my career at the intersection of entertainment and new technology, two areas that have been…shall we say volatile…in the past few years. It’s no secret that it’s been rough times in the entertainment industry. We’re coming up on the fourth anniversary of the Great Netflix Correction, which kicked off what has felt like a Game-of-Thrones-style Long Night in Los Angeles. Meanwhile, AI has eaten the tech industry on it’s way towards eating everything else, unless the bubble pops and takes, oh, the entire world economy with it.

A common refrain has been, “I could use some precented times.”

It’s always been something of a challenge to explain exactly what it is I do. I say “I’m a writer,” and people ask “what kind?” There’s just no pithy answer. The specific words change depending on who I’m talking to. (For instance, if you happen to run an entertainment or game studio, I’m a Narrative Strategy Consultant and Franchise IP & Worldbuilding Expert. So, call me!)

Words, words, words. Don’t even get me started on “transmedia.”

Falling in between categories, crossing disciplines, and mixing media formats has always been my strength, my calling card. And it’s taken me to some really incredible places over the last twenty years. But it’s hard not to feel like, during this nuclear winter, that it’s a bit of a liability. Wouldn’t it just have been easier if I’d picked a path that was more “normal,” “typical” even? Well, about being “typical”…

Way back in the halcyon, pre-panda days of 2019, I learned I had a condition called Auditory Processing Disorder - I wrote about it here. Further research led me to a diagnosis of ADHD. That was extraordinarily helpful, but there was always a nagging feeling that there was something else complicating things. And that feeling turned out to be correct. Last year, I learned it was actually AuDHD.

AuDHD isn’t just autism plus ADHD; it's a secret, third thing. The DSM-V labels feel like they don’t really capture reality, and I’m pretty convinced that in ten or twenty years, we’ll be using completely different language to describe all of the various shades and flavors along the neurodivergent spectrum. But for now, we’ve got this unwieldy mix of capital and lowercase letters. (And by the way, fuck you RFK Jr.)

I’m still unpacking what this means, for my understanding of where I’ve been and where I’m going. I expect I will be for the rest of my life. But as I work through it all, I keep coming back to that winding career path in between traditional storytelling formats, the jumping between mediums, the drive to make something with just the right combination of novelty and familiarity. It makes a lot more sense now. And even in these precarious times, those instincts continue to take me surprising places.

Like Sleepy Hollow.

Going Analog

It’s been a rough decade for those of us who make social media platforms the main conduit of our storytelling. The idea of building something new on one of those platforms seems short-sighted and fruitless. Then, last year, a few things caught my eye. Old friend and Transmedia LA conspirator Scott Walker tipped me off to ScareMail. Benjamin Percy and Stephen King launched The End Times. My instagram adds started getting bombarded by The Flower Letters (seriously, algo, chill). All of these projects use an analog distribution channel -- the POST OFFICE -- to deliver stories in a physical form.

I was reminded of some earlier attempts to bring an interactive-style experience to printed, analog material: ARG-fathers Sean Stewart and Jordan Weisman’s Cathy’s Book, a book that contained rabbit holes to digital media. Even some projects I’d worked on before: The Ghost Post, which told a story through physical artifacts. Or Camp Calamity, the Hunt A Killer murder mystery game that shipped you a box of clues to untangle.

A picture started to form. Episodic stories told, instead of through videos or social posts, through correspondence. Letters in the mail, from inside the world of the story. With some light interactivity. Not puzzles, per se, but threads leading out into the world using classic ARG techniques. Find a phone number and call it. Read a reference to an email address, send a message to it, and get a reply. I have a huge folder full of the kind of concepts that tickle my fancy -- adaptations of classics, reimagined for different eras, genres, or settings -- and it quickly became apparent that I could bring them to life through STORYLETTERS.

I started talking about the idea to people in my circle. A lot of times, when I describe the weird, new format projects I’m developing, I can tell when people aren’t really getting it. They lean back, look in the distance, and say something like “Huh. Cool.” But this time around, sharing this idea, I saw people leaning in, eyes widening, really responding to it.

Then I told Megan.

​Megan Westerby is one of my favorite people in the world. We’ve been friends for almost twenty years, and have many shared pop culture obsessions: Shakespeare, the Hamilton muscial, first RTD-era Doctor Who, the 2012 London Olympics Opening Ceremonies, and a million others. Megan is also a described “stationery nerd” - she collects fountain pens and goes to estate sales to search for old postcards and deadstock. When I told her about the idea, Megan launched into a ten-minute riff about all the cool printing things you could do, with letterpress and ink and different kinds of paper. When she paused to take a breath, I asked her if she wanted to collaborate on this with me, and she immediately said yes.

And so “Stamp Act Productions” was born. (Yes, it’s an American Revolution pun)

Megan won’t mind (I checked) if I tell you that she’s an ADHDer. One of the principles we’re trying to bake into Stamp Act is to honor each person's neurodivergent needs. We both have long experiences of having to mask to get by in professional environments, of pushing ourselves to the point of burnout, of doing things we didn't feel comfortable with becuase we thought we weren't allowed to say no. We’re trying to build something where we don’t have to do that, where we can be unmasked as possible.

We’ve spent the last several months laying the groundwork for Stamp Act’s first story, a 1990’s retelling of Sleepy Hollow.

The letters are written. A lot of the artwork is in progress. We’re having conversations with printers and paper vendors.

​Our Kickstarter Pre-Launch page is now live. Please check it out and click the “Notify Me on Launch” button. And add yourself directly to the Stamp Act mailing list here.

In upcoming posts, I’ll have a lot more to share about this project, how we arrived here, and what our plans are for future storyletters.

I hope you’ll come on this new adventure with us.