The PLU Open Mic has been welcoming performers every Thursday since 2012, and takes place at the historic Culture Rapide bar, in the 20th arrondissement of Paris.

Sign-up opens at 8pm, we aim to start for 8.30/9pm.
We welcome all languages, all levels of experience and all artistic genres: from beginners to legends, poetry to performance art.

Culture Rapide, 103 Rue Julien Lacroix, 75020, PARIS.

FYI
The line 11 will be closed after 10pm on Thursdays until September 2023. The PLU weekly Open Mic Night at 8:30pm at Culture Rapide will continue! Take bus 47 to Republique or line 2 to Nation.

See you soon!

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Paris Lit Up Interviews Nancy Stohlman

Who are you and who do you write for?

Hey friends! I’m Nancy Stohlman, writer, flash fiction aficionado, performer, professor, community organizer and sometimes pirate. I’m a huge fan of the surreal and the absurd, and for many years I’ve been writing at the intersection between flash fiction and the novel. After the Rapture, my new flash novel, is the culmination of that curiosity. 

I was a featured guest at Paris Lit Up in 2018 (you might remember I read carnival-themed stories accompanied by Nick Busheff on a toy piano!), so I am thrilled to be returning.

When did you first know you wanted to be a writer?

I have a very distinct memory: I was 10 years old, sitting in the bleachers at my brother’s soccer game when I told my mother I was going to be an author when I grew up. I used the word author. After my first few years of voracious reading, I had just realized that someone must have the job of writing all these books! I knew it had to be me.

What advice would you give to aspiring writers?

Honestly, I love Bukowski’s advice: if it doesn’t come bursting out of you in spite of everything… don’t do it. Like any relationship, the creative relationship will break your heart wide open, and it will fill you in ways you couldn’t be filled otherwise, but only if you surrender. Surrender to the stories (poems, plays, etc.) that want to be written. Surrender to your own unique process, which may look very different from other people’s journeys. Step into the arena with the muse but bring your long-term vision: you are embarking on a life-long relationship that will inevitably go up and down and all around but will absolutely transform you.

How do you react to criticism of your work?

When I was a younger writer, I used to eat banana splits every time I got a rejection, which was my fun way to “anti” celebrate the harsh reality of putting yourself out there. But actual nuanced criticism? It depends. It’s so important to be in the right frame of mind, receiving it from someone you trust or who at least understands what you are trying to do with your work (as opposed to what THEY would do). Not all criticism is equal or even valid. It’s easy to get into people-pleasing mode when it comes to feedback, so there is a very discerning dance that must occur. I try to pay attention to two specific reactions: the instant yes and the instant no. The instant yes is when a piece of feedback really “hits” and you feel the yes. The instant no is the one that triggers you. Both of those tend to hold heat for me and deserve a space of further contemplation.

A lot of young writers think critique should be painful; they let me know they can ”handle it” or just give it to me and then they brace themselves like a linebacker. I think critique can also be gentle and inspirational and enlivening. It can be like your best friend telling you an important truth. It can be like a brainstorming session that leaves you excited. So I attempt to put critique, both the giving and receiving, in that frame of mind.

And when it’s not, I recommend banana splits.

What do you miss most about the pre-pandemic world?

The innocence. The price of eggs. Hugs without hesitation. How the word “pandemic” used to sound like science fiction. Writing satire that would never come true. That moment when we all went silent and played balcony concerts for each other.

How has your work developed over the last 12 months?

I spent a good deal of 2022 working closely with Mason Jar Press to polish After the Rapture (which, by the way, I wrote pre-pandemic). Which meant I had to practice what I preach (see: critiques above) and learn about myself and my work through the eyes of others I trust. It’s a gift, really.

I also declared 2021 to be The Year of the Student, meaning I was going to actively say yes to opportunities to be a student again. That went over so well that it continued through 2022, and now for the first time in 15 years I am meeting regularly with a writing group again.

In general, I notice my writing is becoming less absurd and comical and more surreal and abstract, playing in a gamut that reaches from Pop Lit all the way to abstract expressionism. My heart has always wanted to get more experimental, so this is an exciting time for me. You can see the beginnings of that shift happening already in After the Rapture, especially the ending.

What does the future look like to you? 

In my dream scenario I’m living close to the ocean, speaking Spanish, writing my best work ever, in crazy love, and having many adventures—including my group writing retreats in France, Colorado, Iceland, and Costa Rica. I might even shave my head (again). I’m going to have a big birthday this year (gulp!), so it feels like I’m about to start a new phase of my life, the phase where I might finally have all my shit together while I’m still young enough to enjoy it.

What importance has other people’s art had for you and your creative process?

Other people’s art is why I get up in the morning: Those I’ve met and those I haven’t. And I enjoy engaging with all mediums of art as writing inspiration. I can watch an orchestra performance and puzzle out the sticky ending to a story. I can spend time alone at a museum and find characters in paint strokes. I can wander a strange city and find words in unfamiliar architecture. I adore graffiti. Honestly, I feel lucky to be an artistic person because I am/we are oriented to see beauty–not just the “beautiful” beauty, but the sacrilegious, the tragic, the sordid. Maybe we need a better word than “beauty” to speak about these profound experiences of engaging with the world.

Have you looked at different ways of expressing yourself or taken on a new medium?

Always. I consider myself an amateur in many artistic arenas, and over the years I’ve gotten to be: a lounge singer, an actress, a fashion model, a photographer, an activist; I’ve written and performed an avant-garde operetta, designed and produced short films, music videos, book trailers. I’ve written a few songs. I’m learning how to make Cajun food. Honestly every time I cross something off my list, I add five more things.

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