Pastry Degenerate Stomp Bigfoot Brings You 'Stomp Wonders'

A nonfiction tributary for the voice behind Stomp Roams.

Many of you have subscribed for completely unbecoming reasons:

Because I helped you dispose of a corpse, because I bribed you with radishes, because I’ve opened up a portal for you to watch a nine-inch pixie with sewing needle katanas on her back drink whiskey at the bar.

I’ve utilized this Substack as a playground to channel Stomp’s wondrous world, and a meeting ground to hopefully connect with you through a shared sense of struggle, magic, hurt, healing, and a love for the wild and the fantastic. Along with that, sometimes I just want to express myself as me, without the accompaniment of a seven-foot bodyguard ‘squatch.

Many of you subscribed following a nonfiction piece I wrote. The most recent dugout canoe of readers floating in off the river with lanterns came from a guest essay on

M. E. Rothwell

’s

The Books That Made Us

community, where I spoke about the impact Brian Jacques’ Redwall had on my perverse Middle School imagination that wanted to shotgun dandelion ale and grapple rat pirates. This essay is called Digging for Hotroot in a suburban back alley.

Farther back, I wrote about the pressure to write for subscribers instead of writing for yourself and another called The Battle for Fiction Relevance on Substack, and of course! A whole interview series called Irreverently Vulnerable where several of my favorite artists bantered about their creative experiences and meatball meteors storming toward earth.

All this shameless plug candy is me saying…

The 10,000-word novelettes about Stomp Freedomfoot’s travels are not the same as the 1,000-word musings, and maybe you only want to read one or the other.

I created this Stomp Wonders section for the explorative piece that doesn’t exist in Stomp’s world, the imaginative part that wants to rip loose and throw commentary, poetry, and thunderous bellows about my love for breakfast that slowly rumble and grumble off into the cloud cover.

If you want to strictly subscribe to Stomp’s world of mangrove smuggler manatees and bartender rats in underground Manhattan taverns, you can go to that little knobby account island in the upper right corner of your screen and click off one or the other.

I am working diligently on the next Stomp Roams story, but for now, I have something I’m excited to publish this weekend, and I look forward to bringing a little evocative conflict into your Sunday.

I’m thankful for each of you here. I spark up anytime I can bring you enjoyment with a story that meant something to me to write, and look forward to doing so much more of it.

7 a.m. on Sunday morning! Bring your bifocaled readin’ eyes, and I’ll bring the Wild.

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Subscribe at your own peril. Welcome.

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