Welcome to Tumultuous True Stories

Diaries, love letters, and confessions for those craving honesty in an era of "personal brands."

I write Tumultuous True Stories for the voyeur of the human soul. For the gal who’d like to read a stranger’s diary, if only those pesky ethics didn’t get in the way. For the fella who’s tired of “heartfelt” personal narratives culminating in sales pitches.

I write Tumultuous True Stories for the reader who craves raw honesty and messy humanity in this dystopian sea of personal brands.

My name is Lindsay Byron, although if you’re reading this right now, you probably know me as Lux ATL. For years I have referred to “Lindsay” as “my government name,” as if it is not my “real” name.

Lindsay is my real name.

Yet I have guarded that name. Very few people ever utter that name. Even my best friends have nicknames for me. I probably hear “Lindsay” a handful of times a month.

“Lindsay” has felt sacred to me. That name denotes the girl I was, my father’s daughter, a precious gem.

When Lux fans call me “Lindsay” in an attempt at forced intimacy, I accept it with a smile and a nod, but inwardly I cringe. You don’t know me like that.

But—you’re about to.

Lindsay Erin Burton, age 16

In Tumultuous True Stories, you will find:

• tortured memoir in the form of vignettes

• actual handwritten diary entries going back as far as the 1980s

• love (and hate) letters—also handwritten

• and, of course, retro photos that were shot on film, many of which I developed myself at Ritz Camera in the early 2000s.

In Tumultuous True Stories, you will also find:

• the fucked-up past that lead to my now-stable life

• unending nostalgia sure to delight any Gen-Xer or Elder Millennial

• art, not “content”

• honesty, not ads

• and, for many of y’all, a mirror in which you see yourself.

The pieces I publish here are unedited and appear exactly as I wrote them 20+ years ago. This is HARD FOR ME because I am a better writer now than I was then, and so I want to shine the writing up, fix the wording, improve the metaphors—but instead, I’m gonna privilege raw reality over perfection.

I have kept a diary since I was five years old.

All the while, I was writing it with the hope that one day, I would be important enough for someone to care about reading these pages.

I never became famous, like I hoped I would. I never got a book deal, like I hoped I would. I never received the support of any establishment that would cement my status as a person whom the public found worth getting to know.

I’m just a normal-ass person like you.

My house is messy; my baby is crying; my chore list is long.

But I think—maybe—

I might be worth getting to know, anyway.

Thanks for being here.

Love, Lindsay.

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Dear reader, what brings you here? How do you know ol’ Luxy? Are you excited to get to know Lindsay? Do you think you and I have anything in common?

I want this Substack to be a place where I can have meaningful conversations with my readership. I want to get to know you as you get to know me.

So—tell me about yourself! Say hi in the comments!