— Lauchlin Fields, Founder/CVO, LF Voices Collective
“This isn’t about starting over. It’s about honoring everything I’ve already built—and using it as the bridge to what comes next.”
This issue of Amplify by LFVC comes to you from the middle of a big shift.
It’s not the end of something, and it’s not quite the beginning either. It’s that in-between space—where things are evolving, realigning, and reminding me that growth doesn’t always come with a neat outline or clear timeline.
Over the past year, I’ve poured myself into meaningful work. I’ve supported teams through audience strategy, led a deeply rooted storytelling project, and helped shape structures that are now starting to stand on their own. Some of that work is winding down sooner than expected. Other parts are shifting as others begin to carry the work forward.
And here’s what’s surprised me: I’m not sad. I’m not anxious. I’m not holding on.
Instead, I feel clear. I feel called. I feel ready.
This messy middle has been its own kind of teacher. It’s reminded me that I don’t need to grip every piece of what I’ve built to carry its impact forward. I can loosen my hold, trust the momentum, and step fully into what I’m here to do next.
That next thing is LF Voices Collective.
This isn’t a side project or a placeholder. It’s the work I was meant to lead—a platform and collective that reimagines journalism as a cultural force. One that connects people, centers lived experience, and builds community through storytelling.
In my personal life, I’m seeing this in-between season show up too. Our son Grady is about to cross over from middle school to high school. He was selected by his peers and teachers to give the graduation speech—an honor that reflects not only who he is, but who he’s becoming. He’s also decided to take Intro to Journalism next year. Watching him find his voice as I step further into mine has felt both grounding and surreal.
And then there’s Henry, our 8-year-old adventurer. He’s been spending hours exploring the woods behind our house. The land was once a Civil War battlefield, and he’s always finding something—old bottles and Civil War bullets—pieces of someone else’s story, just below the surface.
That’s Vicksburg. The past isn’t gone here. It’s layered, complicated, and still shaping what comes next.
This year, as Vicksburg marks its bicentennial, I’ve been thinking about how much of that history is still alive—and how much of it still needs to be told. That’s what we’re building at LFVC: a model of storytelling that sits at the intersection of memory and imagination, honors the past and makes room for the future.
Right now, I’m actively seeking funding and support to build the LFVC team, expand our publishing capacity, and develop new partnerships. I’m also in the early stages of relaunching The ‘Sip archive and creating original content that feels rooted in place, legacy, and meaning.
This issue of Amplify is scrappy, personal, and a little bit messy—because that’s exactly where I am. I call it progress. It’s honest. It’s reflective. It’s deeply informed by what Brené Brown calls the “midlife unraveling”—that moment when we stop pretending, stop pushing, and start listening.
Future issues will look and feel different. They’ll be less about me and more about you—about all of us. They will be about the voices that deserve space and the stories that need to be seen. I’ll lead the vision, but I won’t be the loudest one in the room.
Because that’s the point of LFVC.
To create space.
To amplify.
To connect.
We’re just getting started—and I’m so glad you’re here with us in the middle of it all.
— Lauchlin
