Well, I’m blushing.
Usually, I like to stay behind the scenes — quietly creating, directing, producing, writing — but lately, it seems the press has discovered my little side project.
And now… I’ve been revealed.
Storyville Letters began as a labor of love — storytelling subscription by mail, created during a time when I was searching for meaning and connection.
At the time, my mother was in a nursing home, and I remember noticing how many people there were lonely. Not just bored — achingly lonely. You could feel it in the quiet.
My mom was a librarian, so I grew up surrounded by stories. They were always how we connected — through words, imagination, and the idea that the world could be bigger than the one we lived in.
After she passed away, that sense of loneliness lingered. Not just mine, but everyone’s. I wanted to create something tactile and real — a story in the mail that would arrive quietly, like a friend at the door.
Here’s a secret nobody tells you about grief: it makes you do weird things. Some people take up pottery. Others adopt seventeen cats.
Me? I started writing letters to complete strangers.
So, I began to dream. I started combining everything I knew from filmmaking and writing — and wondered what would happen if fiction unfolded slowly, through real envelopes instead of screens.
I never meant for it to become a business. It was just an experiment — a way to bring a little light and imagination into people’s lives through what would become an immersive storytelling experience.
And then one day, before I even officially launched, a subscription came in. From across the country. From someone I didn’t know.
My first thought: This has to be a mistake.
My second: Panic.
And then, quietly, a flicker of validation.
I reached out and said, “We’re not quite ready, but we will be.”
And just like that, something stirred — something beyond words quietly took root, guiding everything forward in ways I had yet to understand.
In the beginning, I was terrified.
I’d spent my career writing for television, film — and yes, even Barbie — but this was different. There was no studio, no network, no buffer. Just me, the story, and a stack of envelopes.
I remember thinking, What if no one likes it? What if no one subscribes?
But I kept going, because something in me needed to see what would happen if I tried.
And then, the messages started coming in — quiet affirmations from strangers who somehow felt like friends.
“Thank you so much, Haley. The writer is just exquisite, and I feel like I’m actually in the room experiencing it myself. I hoard the letters so I can have a couple to read every week at work. It saves me.”
“I got my first letter today and absolutely love it! I can’t wait for the next ones!”
“Uncle Walter has secrets and I need to know!”
“It’s like having the most interesting pen pal in the world.”
Seeing people connect with these characters — sharing photos of letters and teacups and candlelight — has been one of the greatest surprises. It’s become something bigger than I ever expected: slow entertainment for a fast world.
And then, when the first articles appeared, I’ll be honest — I was nervous all over again. I’ve been in the press before, but always as a filmmaker. This felt different. More personal. More exposed.
I worried people might think I’d quit filmmaking or wouldn’t understand what this is. But I’ve come to realize it’s all connected — storytelling is storytelling. Whether it’s on screen or sealed with a stamp, the heart of it is the same: connection, anticipation, and wonder.
Once, I created these letters to ease a few people's loneliness.
I never expected them to travel so far — from one heart to another, across oceans and time zones.
And maybe the next one is meant for you.
Warmly,
Haley 💌
P.S. I’m deeply grateful to the outlets who helped share Storyville with the world — including AP News, Woman’s Week, The New York Telegraph, New York Culture Wire, and MENAFN, among others.