For those who have followed my writing here, thank you. I’ve moved to a new corner: viyen.substack.com. For those who wish to support the work, there’s an option to subscribe.

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Before I begin

This note is an attempt to clarify the terms under which I begin a long-term writing practice: the boundaries I intend to hold, the kind of relationship I hope to cultivate with those who may read and support my work, and the structure I would follow. Writing, for me, is a way of life. Before I invite others into it, I want to pause and define its shape.

 

Beginning with intention

My writing begins as something quiet, a way of thinking inwardly. Sharing comes later, when I believe certain thoughts are worth offering, if only to those who might find in my essays a kind of companionship. But at the same time, expectations (real or just imagined?) begin to gather. And as they do, the inner freedom that gave rise to the writing in the first place begin to falter.

I’ve felt this tension before, during my years of activism. I’ve lived through the exhaustion that comes when I don’t set boundaries early, when I let my work be shaped by what is asked rather than by what remains true to me. I don’t want to go through that again.

This is why I pause now to ask: what kind of presence do I want to offer through my writing? And what kind of relationship with readers might allow this practice to remain both sustainable and honest?

To my future readers

Writing for oneself and writing for others are not the same. When I write privately, the experience is unmediated: I think, I reflect, I come to a kind of interior coherence. But the moment I begin to imagine readers, I begin to anticipate reactions, I think about relevance and usefulness. This is a potential distortion.

I value the presence of readers, and I want to enter this relationship with clarity. I do not owe anyone a fixed schedule, a list of expected topics, or even resolution in every piece. What I do owe (if I owe anything) is a kind of integrity.

To those who read me: I don’t promise to meet your expectations, but I’ll try to stay true to what calls me to write. Some pieces might feel distant, others more immediate, but they will come from where and who I am.

To me

To keep this work alive, I follow a simple sequence: reading, writing, then sharing.

To be a writer, I must also remain a learner. I write not only from what I know, but also from what I am trying to understand. And I invite readers to walk alongside as fellow thinkers.

What I offer is a body of writing that moves gradually, in conversation with lived experience and learning. In concrete terms, this means: I’ll let my reading and reflection be guided by questions that remain close to the heart of my thinking; I’ll write at a rhythm that follows the movement of my learning and the mood of the writing as it unfolds; and I’ll share pieces only when they’re ready.

Why I still write in a world of machine-generated text

The rise of machine-generated text raises a necessary question: if so much can now be written by algorithm, why write at all?

My answer is simple: machines do not live. They do not carry exile in their bodies or turn pain into insight. They do not love.

I write because I have lived. When I offer an essay, I am offering a trace of this process, this life.

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On logistics:

If you choose to subscribe to my Substack, I won’t fill your inbox with notifications. I’ve turned off automatic emails for each post, as I prefer to write and publish quietly. Instead, I plan to send one email a month – a simple note that gathers what I’ve written, so you can read at your own pace. For paid subscribers, I’ll also include a compiled file of that month’s essays, for ease of reading or keeping.

On paywall:

I’ve decided not to put a paywall on any of my essays. There will still be an option to subscribe as a paid supporter, but I won’t restrict access. I want people to read because my writing resonates with them, not because they’ve paid for it. If you choose to support this space financially, thank you, it helps me keep writing with care and independence.

On language:

I write in both Vietnamese and English. Sometimes a thought comes in one language and stays there. Sometimes it wants to be said differently. I’ll let the pieces grow in the language that feels most natural. Each piece may have its own voice, but they’re all part of the same search.