I Went to the Nicki Minaj Concert and Found Another City
Breaking out of your demographic bubble to renew creativity, insulting spam emails, and new books and writing happenings.
Earlier this month, I brought my daughter to Nicki Minaj's Denver concert at Ball Arena, part of her Pink Friday 2 World Tour that will continue through July. A few months ago, my daughter begged me to buy tickets. I was hesitant at first—the tickets weren’t cheap, and I also stand firmly on Megan Thee Stallion’s side when it comes to her ongoing beef with Nicki Minaj. (If you are not taking sides on pop-cultural beefs, are you really living?)
Still, I’ve been a fan of Nicki Minaj for decades. My daughter told me one of her early memories was of me blasting "Starships" on a road trip, turning down the volume knob on the car stereo whenever an f-word was about to appear. I missed once and my five-year-old son observed, "That's vulgar." My now 17-year-old daughter said one of her dreams was to hear "Starships," released when she was six years old, performed by Nicki Minaj live.
Plus, my daughter is going away to college in the fall, so yes, reader, I bought the tickets. And I’m so glad I did. The Denver area routinely makes national worst-dressed lists, which ding us for preferring the comfort of flannels and fitness clothes over style, but the audience at Ball Arena that night was impeccable in fuzzy pink bucket hats, distressed cotton-candy-colored denim suits, vinyl miniskirts, towering beehive hairdos, and fur coats with ten-foot trains. I wished a street fashion photographer was present to capture this evidence of real Denver style. I did the best I could, from my perch in the upper decks.
In the photo above, there’s a lot to see, but please focus on the three-foot butterscotch beehive on the woman in the center.
The warm-up DJ noticed the splendor, and invited the best dressed to strut through the aisles. Besides the fashions, the other aspect of the crowd that stuck out to me was that I didn't see many other white, middle-aged moms like myself.
The majority of the crowd skewed younger than me, but I did see plenty of other moms—mostly in Black and Latino families who'd come out together for the show. In the upper deck seats I sat next to a mom and her son who was about eight years old, his shiny black hair in a flawless bowl cut. He knew every word to every Nicki Minaj song, and often spoke aloud as if he were addressing Nicki directly, warning her when the show’s start was delayed that it was approaching his bedtime. When Nicki asked the audience, “Could you do something for me?” he assured her, "I got you, Nicki, I got you." Across the aisle, drunken people kept stumbling down the stairs, and I imagine the other mom was glad, like I was, that the person seated next to our kid wasn't drunk or blowing strawberry vape in their faces.
Over the past year I’ve visited Ball Arena for an Avalanche game, a Nathaniel Rateliff concert, and a Nuggets game. In part because of the hefty ticket prices, those events all drew crowds that better match the stereotype of Denver in the media, but the Nicki Minaj crowd reminded me of the Denver I grew up in, a swath of town that remains invisible to a lot of its inhabitants. No matter what the dominant image of a city is, every city is made up of multiple cities, and if we are confining ourselves to our habitual spots, we are missing out on entire worlds.
We spend too much time in bubbles in every part of our lives—in our neighborhoods, online, in our leisure activities—while tech companies' algorithms feed us more of what they've determined we like. After a while, it begins to feel tedious, like being a cow penned into a particular pasture. One longs to chew a different flavor cud.
The point of America, as Andy Warhol once wrote, is to "mix and mingle." Beyoncé's recent foray into country, which has rekindled an appreciation for the long history of Black musicians' contributions to the genre, and Luke Combs' respectful cover of Tracey Chapman's "Fast Car," are signs that no thriving streams of America's culture have ever been dammed off and restricted to one group of people. Artists cross boundaries and in doing so remind us what the best part of being American is: the cultural smorgasbord offered to us by the myriad traditions of the generations of globe-spanning immigrants and indigenous people who call our country home.
If you spend too much time in a bubble of your own making, you start to believe your bubble is an accurate representation of reality. If you are a person who likes to write, make art, or create in any medium, nothing could be deadlier than to confine yourself in this way. This month, I challenge you to resist all algorithms and break out of your creative rut by going somewhere that no one would expect to see you. Find the part of your city that has been hidden from you. Take it all in and come back with a fresh angle to use in your art. And also maybe some fashion tips.
The Assorted Whimsy Portion of The Tumbleweed
Do you ever feel just a little bit insulted by the spam email that makes its way into your inbox?
If I had opened this email and it had spit in my eye I could not feel more called out. Yes, I number among the “some authors” who take “much longer than that.” Indeed, if you square this number of months and multiply it by four, you’re starting to get into the ballpark of the number of months it takes me to write a book. If you are one of these authors who takes six months or less to write a book…let’s fight. Meet me behind the library on Tuesday. I suspect all of you. Except for my former student Cath Lauria a.k.a. Cari Z who is a force of nature, cranking out a new book in the time it takes me to sneeze. She’s the only one I’m not suspicious of.
The Book Recommendation Portion of The Tumbleweed
There are so many fantastic books coming out this spring. I was glad to review The Morningside, the new novel by one of my favorite writers, Téa Obreht, for the Minneapolis Star Tribune.
I wrote:
Try to read 10 pages of this book and resist its fairy dust. This story sinks the reader into its dreamlike world as surely as the Morningside subsides into the island it occupies. With an intrepid young protagonist rambling through a formerly luxurious building, this novel blends the appeal of Eloise and Harriet the Spy, the ancient pull of folklore and prescient magic similar to the sort that animated Mohsin Hamid's fantastic Exit West. In this tossed-up world, adults hide secrets that Silvia is determined to uncover.
Obreht is a pure, natural storyteller with a direct hotline to the collective unconsciousness. She blends humor and tragedy, warmth and grit, mystery and magic, constructing her plot out of human curiosity and connection. She writes like she belongs to some lineage of storytellers who entertained around campfires, with such surefootedness that a reader knows all the odd elements and striking characters she introduces will weave together into a haunting and meaningful tale.
The Happenings & Links Portion of The Tumbleweed
I am teaching a new four-class series this spring for Lighthouse Writers Workshop called “Get a Little Closer: Psychological and Emotional Writing for Fiction and Nonfiction.” It runs on Monday evenings from 6:30-8:30 from April 15 to May 6, at Lighthouse in Denver (3844 York St.).
Have you written a short story collection? If so, why not enter it in the prestigious Flannery O’Connor Award for Short Fiction? I am honored to serve as one of the judges this year, reading through entries to pick some fabulous ones for series editor Lori Ostlund to consider. The contest runs from April 1 to May 31 and all entries are judged without author-identifying info attached. Give it a try!
Speaking of judging, I am deep in deliberations for the annual National Book Critics Circle John Leonard Award for first book with the volunteer committee, and we have some stellar finalists I can’t wait to tell you about. You can watch the March 21 awards ceremony online here (6:30 p.m. eastern time).
Lighthouse Writers Workshop’s annual Lit Fest is coming up in June! I will be teaching four classes, leading a panel, and participating on a reading for the new Mile High MFA anthology. You can already sign up for advanced workshops and my craft classes will be listed soon.
I reviewed Megan Nix’s gorgeous memoir Remedies for Sorrow for America Magazine.
I was quoted in The Denver Post hyping the new Reading Den series at Fort Greene. The first one was awesome, and I’m looking forward to participating soon.
I interviewed Laura Pritchett about her new novel, Playing with Wildfire, for the High Country News.
Also, I am so pleased—I wrote recommendations for three students this December and we went three for three—they got the job and the thing and the thing. Let me know if you need any help editing your project and someday I could be proud of you too!
As always, The Tumbleweed welcomes your questions and comments about writing, reading, taco eating, the Denver Nuggets, rabbit wrangling, Deion Sanders, and baby seals.