EM MARINELLI
WRITER / DANCER
EM MARINELLI: THE STORIES THAT FIND THEIR WAY BACK
AUTHOR / DANCER / INTERVIEWED BY LAUX | AUGUST 2026
IMAGERY VIA
@EM MARINELLI
For Em, we pulled The World. It’s associated with contemplation, integration, and reaching a point where you can look back and understand how different parts of your life came together. Let’s begin here...
Can you take me to a moment when you realized you had completed one version of your life and were stepping into another?
Pulling The World is such a huge card and a huge honor because it’s the completion of the whole cycle, starting with The Fool’s journey and leading into this place of culmination and integration. My first feeling about it is, okay, girl. You see me. It feels like the cards are reading correctly how I’m feeling right now in my life.
It’s not that things are done or over. That’s not how The World works. That’s not how trauma works. That’s not how art works for me. It’s more that I’m at a place where I’ve gone through some shit, and now I’ve landed in a different, more transpersonal field in my life, and geographically a different place in my life.
I think about spending time in Vermont, changing my relationship to substances, starting to go to Al-Anon and ACA, moving from a lot of drug years to dog-country-life years. I also think about injury and trauma around my dad, and the challenges I’ve held onto since I was a kid of always wanting something from him that he was unable to give.
The World really speaks to this time I’m in right now.
I want to go back a little and start with who you were before the world started telling you who you were supposed to be. When you were a kid, what kind of adventures did your imagination take you on? What kind of worlds did you create?
I always wanted to be a dancer, and I specifically wanted to be a dancer in Gene Kelly movies with MGM.
I wanted to either be his sidekick dancer or just a little girl in the background of An American in Paris, one of the French kids following him around going, “I got rhythm.” I really built this world through musicals, particularly old musicals. Pop culture was always a way for me to escape and also to feel seen and found at the same time.
My imagination always took me there.
I’m always interested in the art that finds us before we fully understand why it matters. Can you remember a piece of art, writing, music, or film that entered your life at exactly the right time and never left?
I was really lucky that my mom put me in dance starting when I was two and a half.
I started with tap and ballet, then later jazz and modern. That was such a gift she gave me because dance was always a place where I could feel safe and escape when things at my house were not feeling safe. I could have an artistic expression and a way to move through difficult emotional experiences.
Then, speeding up to when I was a teenager, I saw My Own Private Idaho. That piece of art completely changed me, and I never looked back. I started really understanding independent cinema. I started understanding my queerness in a different way through River’s portrayal of Mike. It also connected to my love of realism in movies. When I see realism, that’s the thing that makes my fingers tingle and my heart jump. I feel transported into some other transpersonal space.
That’s what I find in directors like Gus Van Sant and Gregg Araki and other independent filmmakers.
Photo courtesy of Em Marinelli
Can you remember an early experience of desire, intimacy, or connection that changed the way you engaged with art or your own creativity?
This morning I was working on my memoir and writing about a girl who was probably my first really big girl crush, celebrities aside. She began a series in my lifetime of being crushed out on very bossy redheads.
I was writing an essay about us when we were young because she was the person who showed me My Own Private Idaho for the first time. She showed me Stand by Me. She introduced me to Twin Peaks. There’s this interlocking of my crush, my energy, my desire to be close to her, and then her bringing me into this world that completely changed how I thought about everything.
It influences my writing. It influences how I engage with movies, shows, and pop culture generally. I mean, I’m writing a book about Twin Peaks now.
There’s this absolutely crazy connection between all of those things.
Some of the things that shape us most are the things we wouldn’t necessarily choose. Can you tell me about a heartbreak that changed you? What did it teach you about yourself?
What came to mind was a dual heartbreak.
The first was with an abusive person I was with when I was in college. He was a cis guy much older than me, and it was a classic cycle of abuse that I didn’t know how to get out of. Which was hilarious because I was a Women’s Studies major and literally teaching this stuff to other people. It was that experience of knowing something intellectually but not being able to do it for yourself.
I went to a lot of therapy in college, and eventually was able to leave him. There was heartbreak in looking back at myself and thinking, am I really that statistic where it takes seven times to leave a relationship like that? I guess so.
That was heartbreak for myself, not even about the person.
At the same I was unhooking from the abusive relationship, I met a hot butch and feel deeply in love. I went pretty quickly, probably too quickly, into a relationship with her. I came into myself being with her. She helped me realize I was a femme and what that really meant. That relationship became its own beautiful mess, but it was the most significant partnership I’ve had other than the relationship I’m in now. The only other partner I ever lived with. When her and I finally parted ways, I had said and done so many hurtful awful things to her I couldn’t see any world where we could be in each others lives.
Fast forward 20 something years later. She has transitioned and uses he/him pronouns. I was able to reconnect with him and make amends. We were able to acknowledge how I had hurt him and how he had hurt me. We cried together. We forgave each other. I remember him saying, “We were kids. It’s okay.” It was probably one of the most healing heartbreaks and heart connections I’ve ever had. Now I feel this drive to write about it because it’s become more accessible to me.
Photo courtesy of Em Marinelli
Sometimes the moments that stay with us aren’t big ones. They’re small ones. Can you tell me about something seemingly small someone did for you that had a huge impact on your life?
When I was a kid, I wanted to perform. I was performing through dance, but I wanted to really immerse myself in the performing arts, and I was terrified. Being onstage dancing felt really different from being in a play or singing in front of people. I found more comfort in dance.
My friend Rachel George was doing community theater when we were in high school, and she very lovingly said, “I think you should audition.” I was like, “What? I would never get in. What are you talking about?” She said, “Just do it, and I’ll help you.” She helped me figure out what to do, and I did it. It was just the little gentle, loving push that I needed.
Then I did so many shows with that theater when I was in high school. And it wasn’t high-school-bullshit theater. It was legitimate community theater. We were working our asses off. We were doing Sondheim. Period. Sondheim when you’re in high school is a lot.
Doug, who ran the theater, didn’t treat us like we were teenagers. He treated us like adults, and we did adult work. That helped me grow. My confidence grew. I ended up singing onstage. I started wearing wigs and thought, oh my God, why have I never worn wigs before? This is glorious.
Then I started making my own stupid movies with a camcorder at home. I had always been putting on plays behind the scenes, and now I got to actually be at the front of the stage. It felt incredible.
Can you remember a time when you encountered a piece of art that moved you deeply? Why did it hit you so hard?
This answer is going to be really fucking weird coming from a queer artist. The very first musical I ever saw onstage was Jesus Christ Superstar at the Tulsa Performing Arts Center. My mom took me, and I fell in love.
I couldn’t believe it. I felt lifted out of my seat. I was crying immediately because I was so moved by the harmonies, blown away and captured in the story. And I had railed against going. I was like, “Mom, I don’t want to go see a fucking musical about Jesus.” We didn’t believe in Jesus in our house. We didn’t do God. We didn’t go to church.
She said, “This is really different. Trust me. It’s a rock musical.” I’m eight years old going, what even is that? Then I saw it and it really took me somewhere else.
I think that experience helped me later when Rachel gave me that nudge to perform in musicals. I had always been a musical-theater kid behind closed doors. Seeing that made it even more the case.
Photo courtesy of Em Marinelli
What are you able to say on the page that might be harder to say anywhere else?
In my creative nonfiction, writing gives me access to deep immersion and descriptions of moments in my life that, if you just asked me about them, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. When I write, I get to access that world.
I needed that for my last book, Comfort Sequels, particularly to write about my dad. I can’t really talk about my dad. I can say generic things. He was absent. This happened. That happened. But to write the stories that are difficult to say, writing creates access to that world. It helps create a kind of completion in the journey. Not because it’s done, but because it helps integrate it.
What I’m noticing now, as I’m working on my new memoir, is that there was a period when I couldn’t access the material around my dad anymore, even though I knew I had more to write. With support from writing communities and fellowships, including Lambda Literary, I’ve been able to go back into it.
I’ve also been feeling this call to write about some of my sexual trauma from when I was a kid. Every time I sit down to write it, I dissociate. Five words come out, and they don’t really make sense.
That’s an interesting other side of the question. There are things I can think about and know about, and maybe even talk about in an “everything was in the past” kind of way, but I can’t sit down and really access that world to write about it yet. But I’m saying yet because I’m not giving up on it.
What work feels most alive for you right now? What are you currently working on, and where did that project begin?
When I was a teenager, I loved this independent movie from 1996 called Trees Lounge. It was written and directed by Steve Buscemi, who also stars in it. If you haven’t seen it, many people haven’t. It’s amazing and shot so beautifully. They shot it in 24 days with barely any budget, and I don’t know how they did it.
It’s full of people you’ll know. Chloë Sevigny is in it. Carol Kane is in it. This year is the 30th anniversary of the movie, and I hadn’t seen much written about it over the years. I thought, I have to do something.
So I started reaching out. I didn’t know anyone. I cold-called people. I emailed agents and publicists. I tried to get as many people from the movie as I could, from the cast to the crew to the production side, and interview them about their stories from making the film. I wanted to capture it and hold it in this beautiful oral history.
I got to talk with the makeup artist, the production designer, and cinematographer Lisa Rinzler, who is such a wonderful artist. But I knew the book could not feel complete unless I got Steve Buscemi because it’s his baby. It’s an autobiographical account of a time in his life. On every level, it’s his work.
With the help and encouragement of Bianca Hunter, who is also in the movie and whom I’m now honored to call my friend, I kept trying. And I got Steve Buscemi.
Once I got Steve Buscemi, I was able to get Chloë and some other people. The book is called Trees Lounge: Behind the Bar. I just finished it, and it’s coming out this year.
There are stories in the book that have never been told before. Even if you don’t know the movie, you know Steve Buscemi. It’s about this time in his life when he was down and out, when he was drinking alcoholically, when the bar was the only place he could find connection.
It’s a movie about connection. The book is about connection.
Photo courtesy of Em Marinelli
I’m also co-authoring a book about the TV show Twin Peaks called Fix Your Hearts: Transforming Trauma and Twin Peaks. It looks at the entire series, including Fire Walk with Me, through the lens of trauma healing, trauma resiliency, and trauma recovery. That will probably be out in 2027.
And I’m working on a new memoir. Some of the essays have already been published in different literary magazines. I’m going to keep going on this journey and see what stories of mine need to be told and how they’re going to find themselves on the page.
Photo courtesy of Em Marinelli
WHAT’S GOOD
We always like to end on a good note. So before we go, here’s WHAT’S GOOD according to Em Marinelli.
What’s a good book?
The Emperor of Gladness by Ocean Vuong. Everyone should read it yesterday.
What’s a good film?
My Own Private Idaho. River Phoenix, period. For me, it began what we know as queer independent cinema.
What’s a good song?
Anything by Dolly Parton. If you want to dance, I recommend “All I Can Do” or “Shinola.” If you want to sing, I recommend “Home” or “Two Doors Down.”
What’s something good someone told you?
A friend once told me, “Writing isn’t that precious. Write anytime you have a second. You don’t need the most perfect conditions to do it. Just fucking write.”
Who is someone good you think I should talk to next?
Persia. She performed at my book release party. She was one of the founders of Drag Queen Story Hour, she’s an activist, and she teaches drag and art to kids in an after-school arts program. I think she would be a great person.
XX MIXTAPE VOL. 01
Every QCH guest leaves us with one track. Em Marinelli adds this one to the mix.
wILL YOU DANCE
BY
THE BIRD AND THE BEE
Photo courtesy of Em Marinelli
CURRENT / UPCOMING
TREES LOUNGE: BEHIND THE BAR
An oral history celebrating the 30th anniversary of Steve Buscemi’s Trees Lounge, featuring conversations with Buscemi and members of the film’s cast and creative team.
COMFORT SEQUELS
Part memoir, part pop-culture study, Comfort Sequels explores the restorative power of movie sequels from the ’80s and ’90s, weaving Em’s personal history with psychological insight and conversations with the people who helped make the films.
FIX YOUR HEARTS: TRANSFORMING TRAUMA AND TWIN PEAKS
A forthcoming exploration of Twin Peaks and Fire Walk with Me through the lens of trauma, healing, and recovery. Co-authored by Em Marinelli and currently anticipated for 2027.
COMING 2027
PODCASTS
THE TWIN PEAKS TATTOO PODCAST
Em talks with Twin Peaks fans about their tattoos, the stories behind them, and what the series continues to mean in their lives.
QUEER THERAPISTS TALK WAYWARD
Em and fellow queer/trans psychotherapist Avery unpack Netflix’s Wayward through psychological and queer lenses, exploring the show’s characters, themes, and representations of trauma.
REHEATED RIVALRY
Em and Mariana take a deep dive into Heated Rivalry, looking at the series through queer, psychological, cinematic, and pop-culture lenses.
PRESS + APPEARANCES
From author conversations and podcast appearances to film discussions and book panels, explore more of Em’s work and conversations across film, writing, psychology, and queer culture.