In a recent conversation, writer C.R. Stapor (author of the short story collection The Wraith Atlas, which I highly recommend), talked with me about developing a…
I didn’t know that I could be a writer. I grew up working class and poor. I wasn’t around educated people or people who would…
If I’m doing my job right, this column is different from previous ones. So, come along for a ride, we’re going off road. Random sentence…
“So I made a really great playlist last week,” said my friend as we embarked on a several-hour road trip. “You’ll love it.” “Okay, let’s…
You’ve dedicated your life to the Big Questions. Right on! So what are they? One says, “How do you get right with God?” Another smirks,…
Valerie Wetlaufer is a queer fat femme, birth doula, poet, and doctoral fellow at the University of Utah. They are Poetry Editor of Quarterly West, and…
“I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.” “Denmark’s a…
I know some of you have kept personal journals since you were children. You have neat, well-organized notebooks (all the same size, maybe even color…
We all have had childhood heroes, haven’t we? I’m pretty sure my first was the child Mozart, because I started piano lessons when I was…
Okay, punk, are you now or have you ever been: a fag? a queer? a black? a chicano? a zionist? a commie? a jew boy?…
The Storming Bohemian has the flu. Fever, aches and all that jazz. Determined to remain punkalicious, I have struggled to write a column this morning…
Lately, I’ve been writing about my childhood. And before that, I was writing about my childhood. And years ago, as a child, I wrote about…
So, I start writing this column on a patio in Petaluma, listening to a set by the band “Fox & Woman” founded by friends I…
The Storming Bohemian will not be writing a column next week. Why? I am going on retreat at a Trappist monastery in the countryside outside…
I started out wanting to be an actor, went to school for it, performed in quite a few plays before moving on to means of…
Creative writing class. That is a phrase that evokes in me some very ambivalent reactions. I’ve taken a few, and some of them have been…
I’m stuck. Like a cheap truck in a swamp. Like a deer in the headlights. Like a senile actor realizing with horror that he has…
It’s raining outside of my cozy home in the East Bay hills. It is quiet here, except for the tap tap on the roof and…
Personally, I’ve not written much fiction. Scares me. Confessional poetry is more my game. Came to it because it seemed pretty accessible. How hard could…
The past couple of weeks I’ve thought and written about community and self discipline. How we don’t create in a vacuum, but must talk to…
What a week of muse punking it has been! Having said a resounding “yes” to my artistic vocation (and continuing to do so), confirming events…
I went to the Jarett Kobek event on Wednesday night at City Lights (Jan. 18), where he was explaining his book ATTA. I thought I…
Sometimes, my demons tell me, “You’ll never write again. You’ll never paint again. Remember when you wanted to be an actor, you’ll never do THAT…
A coupla weeks ago, I told you of The Edwardian Ball, and recommended it as a muse-punking expedition. To my unspeakable delight, local writer Sean…
The phrase “one day at a time” has permeated our culture through the influence of Alcoholics Anonymous, but it is not a new concept. There…
