It’s been awhile since I’ve written that salutation in this context, and I have to say, it feels damn good. For a few months now, people have been asking when Midnight Breakfast would resurface, somewhat worried we’d either closed up shop or gone on perpetual holiday, uncertain of our return. I’m unbelievably excited to say we’re back, and, as ever, we’ve got a killer new issue for you.
I wrote a bit about this in my last letter, but I spent much of our hiatus thinking more extensively about the idea of home. A close friend of mine, and someone whom I’ve ventured into the woods with on several occasions over the last six months, has a wonderful habit: after pitching our tent—and usually cracking open a beer or bottle of whiskey in celebration—he’ll put his arm around my shoulder and say, “Welcome home.” It’s his way, I think, of recognizing the peace and comfort that camping affords, but also a way of understanding that home isn’t limited by its interiors, its spatiality, its physicality. It’s where we reside, yes, but it’s also where the things that matter most reside—the often unnameable things that dwell in the deepest parts of us.
I think there’s a reason why, when soliciting pieces, I ask writers if they have work they’re “looking to house.” Because a literary magazine, as much as anything, is its own kind of home. Our hope has always been to preserve and foster creativity, to provide a place where writing and art can breathe and let go. The more we publish, the more I realize our architecture is malleable, that Midnight Breakfast continues to adapt and change, depending on the kind of narratives able to stretch their legs inside the magazine’s bounds. We are, above all, interested in what our writers are interested in. We cherish stories like the ones you’re about to read, those which contain layers and questions and a strong sense of curiosity towards a great many things: the definition of one’s homeland; high-octane Latin competitions; what it’s like to grapple with newfound adulthood while simultaneously working for a video dating service. We love real and fictionalized stories that take place in drug dealers’ cars, on Greyhound buses, in environmental science classrooms. From the Catholic schools of Rio de Janeiro, to the lawless parts of Boca Raton, to the many confined spaces that make up the annals of history and our modern world, we are truly fascinated. It is a pleasure to return with Issue Thirteen, which is so indicative of the kind of home we’ve erected and upon which we continue to build.
I hope you enjoy the new issue. And I hope, if you do and if you’ve enjoyed reading Midnight Breakfast in the past, that you’ll consider helping us in our mission to pay our contributors (and our future goal to pay our staff) by becoming a subscriber via Patreon. Beginning with this issue, our plan is to publish new issues of Midnight Breakfast 3–4 times per year, but we need your help to make that plan a reality. We understand that not everyone can afford to subscribe, and because of this, we want to keep the magazine free and available to our readers. But for those who appreciate what we do and the hard work that goes into the creation of every issue and who can also spare even the most minimal amount, we truly appreciate the boost. A home is nothing without support; please consider becoming a patron of ours, and we promise to continue to craft the best literary magazine we can.