Catherynne M. Valente

This is an essay version of the talk I gave at the Stonecoast MFA Summer Residency at the University of Southern Maine, where I now find myself somehow a grown-up faculty member. Or at least, a third of it. I couldn't even get through all of it with a two-hour lecture slot, and when I fleshed it out

Note: This is cross-posted from my Substack where I keep my uncozy political writing. The rule remains that if any paying patron asks for something paywalled there to be posted here, I will do so within 24 hours. I prefer to keep this place loving and cozy and full of art, but some things are import

After the straight-up saga of Velveteen's incredible journey east, I thought you might like the happy ending. In case you don't follow me on BlueSky where I've been uncontrollably...oh god, am I about to use the word "squeeing" for the first time in years? I suppose I am. Uncontrollably squeeing abo

Note: This is cross-posted from my Substack, where I keep my Extremely Angry Political Writing. I don't like to post it here, because it is Decidedly Not Cozy, and I want this place to be for art and community and conversations about the Better Thoughts. But I've been working on this series for a lo

The outstanding rewards for October are coming, I promise, I just am having a lot of physcial issues right now and also I can't think about anything but the election tomorrow so here is my brain at the moment...it's all I got. *** It’s almost over. One way or the other. I think I’ve aged ten years s

In my usual bleary, resentful early-morning delerium, I followed a link in the comments discussing an article about something beyond completely unrelated (oh, concerned piece about long-term effects of America's increasing marijuana use, who knew you came bearing such gifts!) and pitched headfirst d

(Cross-posted from Substack 24 hours later so no one misses anything if they hate a platform) If you were thinking of joining the ranks of those who like to comment suggesting I write these pieces with less swearing, or indeed type without one elbow on the capslock key, this would not be the essay t

So I looked up the etymology of the word pain the other day. I don't know if this is a TED Talk or the opening to a Letterkenny episode, but either way, I can feel a black turtleneck and discreet-but-not-really headset and/or a plaid flannel shirt and deeply unfortunate bangs spontaneously sprouting

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a civilization in possession of a good fortune, must replace all organic workers with AI as soon as possible, which will definitely never ever cause any problems whatsoever. Perhaps there isn’t any point in writing this at all, now that the robot singular

Part One Part Two We were all just children when this essay began, weren’t we? So long ago. A more innocent time…in February. Well, this is the more personal part. I mean, yeah, I’ll talk about Farscape getting canned, because that’s a real (garbage) thing that really (garbagely) happened in real (g

I’ve been trying to sit down and write whimsical science fictional things for all of you. To wax enthusiastic about…anything. I really have. But the whimsy, the enthusiasm, they are not coming easily at the moment. I know so many of you (I hope all of you) feel the same way. I sit and I stare a lot.

Part One I Love Hanging With You, Man: My Buddy Farscape and Me So here we are, you and me. I’LL PAINT YOU A PICTURE. It’s 1999. We’re in San Diego, right before I start at UCSD, in a two-bedroom North Park apartment that cost $800 a month total between me and my fundamentalist Christian yet also de

Remember when I told you all about Ted Lasso, back when everyone wasn’t watching Ted Lasso, and said very emphatically that everyone needed to be watching Ted Lasso? Was I wrong? You know I wasn’t. And now, even though correlation does not equal causation, everyone is watching Ted Lasso, which is in

So many of my thoughts begin with this phrase now. Even though each and every word in it means other than what it says on the lip of this blue-dark ledge of the year. We all understand the code leaking out of each letter like flat champagne. We know what we mean, if the future will not. When in some

Hello, my loves. It is the day before Election Day here in the US, which means it is a crisp, moody, blustery day in November, full of golden leaves tumbling through the air like wishes and woodsmoke spiralling up through the New England clouds like dreams, and I want to throw up my soul. I wanted t

Time is a lie. Summertime doubly so. There is no such thing as people, or movement, or reality. Nothing matters anymore, but not in a cool way. Life is Wednesday divided by ennui minus December to the power of vodka over wise old owls in academic robes. I don’t know anymore. Taylor Swift put out a r

Greetings, dear ones. It’s cold and rubbish over here HOW BOUT YOU? That’s all you can really say about January in New England. January, the worst month. The hangover of months. The month with crap weather, no holidays to look forward to beyond reading someone you thought was more or less okay being