THROUGH PROSE TO SEE THE WORLD MORE CLEARLY
The Bohemian Writers Club is an experiment in writing courageously, creatively, uncomfortably.
"It was like two unsolvable riddles imprinted on my mind: how can humans be so violent, and how can humans be so sublime?”
(Han Kang, 2024 Nobel Prize in Literature)
I want to communicate what it feels like to be human or die trying
(David Foster Wallace, 1962-2008, paraphrased)
About the boo
We respond to Ottessa Moshfegh’s call for stories that live in an amoral universe, past the political agendas on social media. After all, we have imaginations for a reason. We need characters in novels to be free to range into the dark and wrong. How else will we understand ourselves?
This is a space for story truths more than happening truths: stories designed to catch-and-release the firestorm that is our world. Of what it feels like to be caught up in something you don’t control. For stories judged not by factual accuracy but by their resonance: stories that restructure worlds and make people feel stuff.
And it can be a space for intelligent polemics and behind the scenes confessionals on the experience of fieldwork and theorising. A space for the psychedelic and ruminative — beautifully rendered, always.
This then is where we promise to write thoughtfully, candidly, experimentally about whatever it is which we have come into this world to say — and damn the consequences.
Want to be a member?
Consider yourself one.
‘I had not been able to work in some months, had been paralysed by the condition that writing was an irrelevant act, that the world as I had understood it no longer existed. If I was to work again at all, it would be necessary for me to come to terms with disorder.’
Joan Didion in Slouching Towards Bethlehem
‘The trouble with life (the novelist will feel) is its amorphousness, its ridiculous fluidity. Look at it: thinly plotted, largely themeless, sentimental and ineluctably trite. The dialogue is poor, or at least violently uneven. The twists are either predictable or sensationalist. And it’s always the same beginning, and the same.’
Martin Amis in Experience
Aboudia, Help Us, 2011
Fiction Stories
by Philip Stiles Everyone’s piling in on me, but it’s not my fault. And if you want to know the truth, I’m the only one who seems to be trying to rectify the situation. I’ve cycled as far as the…
by Markus Hällgren One motherfucker. Grey-man takes his keys from his right pocket and moves them to his left hand. His mind is set on one thing only. Two motherfuckers. The man with grey hair on his temples takes two…
Haley Josephs, You May Bloom and Grow Forever, 2021
Salman Toor, Dancing to Whitney, 2019
Nonfiction Stories
by Virginia Leavell The roof of my parents’ barn was incredibly high. To me as a small child, maybe seven years old, it was as tall as the white rafters of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church where we were forced to…
by Bianca Crivellini Eger (EXPLICIT) 73 Wilshire Street, 11.00pm, she said, and hung up. It was only a five-minute walk from my apartment. The first time I had worn my dom outfit, my new skin, was a year before that…
(Somewhat Practical Advice from a Very Impractical Source) by Trish Ruebottom What you have here is not your typical apocalypse survival guide. Typical apocalypse survival guides promise to teach you to “grasp the essentials of wilderness survival… strategies to protect…
CLEARANCE RACK
by Mark de Rond As the dog days of summer elongated, and with school out and everyone who is someone having been moved on, and with nothing to do and nothing whatsoever to look forward to, two teenagers killed a…
by Mark de Rond As a child and for as long as I can remember there hung above my bed a sign that said ‘Lord, let my prayer come before Thee.’ I have no memory of how I came to…
by Mark de Rond (EXPLICIT) Too much thinking made him feel delirious like about how come he was here at all when he had never been one to draw attention to himself and when by all accounts he had a…
Jerome Lagarrigue, Riot, 2022