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Death & Taxes. Is It April, Already?

Nan Tepper — Mon, 30 Mar 2026 11:03:11 GMT

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Our March show, E.R.A. Now, Dammit! was phenomenal.

So, we figured we’d bring you phenomenal, again.

We’ve been told that the only two things we can count on are Death & Taxes. I’m pretty sure that’s true about death. Not as certain about the tax part. I sure as hell don’t want to fund the disaster we’re witnessing now.

It’s April, and it’s tax season if you have the misfortune of being a citizen of Trumpstakistan.

Oops. Did I just call it that? If he’s putting his name on our money, I promise, the U.S.A. is going through a major re-brand. Don’t tell him about Monrovia, for goodness sake. Because then, he’ll cite precedent.

There’s really no difference between a Trump Hotel and the whole fucking nation, and gee, we’ll all get gold-plated toilets and Big Macs for life. That’ll be swell.

I digress.

How do YOU feel about funding this fascist, I mean “federal” government?

And, what about death? Does death frighten you? Or are you at peace, knowing that one day we all end? What’s your take?

I’m not currently aware of a workaround for dying, unless the billionaires know something we don’t. Because, dude, those guys are terrified of death.

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Come play with us. Hear these women’s stories. These slams come packaged with all the feelings. There may even be a couple you haven’t felt before.

If you enjoyed the last slam, this is your next opportunity to enjoy.
If you couldn’t make the last one, here we are. Again! And, guess what…
We’ll be here in April, May, and June.
And every month that follows.

After you’ve the seen the slam, if you feel the urge to join us on our virtual stage and tell your own story and you have a publication on Substack, send me a message.

I’ll put you on my handy-dandy spreadsheet.

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or you can…

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Help this project grow by spreading the word. There’s more than one way to support Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! You can buy a ticket to a show or become a paid subscriber (you get in to the live show for free). You can sign up to tell a story.
And now, we have a fiscal sponsor. Direct donations made to WBTYS will be tax deductible as permissible by law in the U.S. Law? Do we still have that here?

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See the last few slams:

E.R.A. Now, Dammit! The Replay? Kinda.

Nan Tepper — Mon, 23 Mar 2026 19:26:39 GMT

Scroll past this part to go to the stories…but don’t, because this part’s pretty great.

Wow. Just wow. This was one of the best story slams I’ve ever participated in.

I’m going to jump right in and I’ll tell you what went wrong, first. Then, I’ll move on to all the things that went so very right. Even the thing that went wrong turned into something beautiful.

The thing that went wrong? I forgot to hit record. Really. Really and truly.

Didn’t record it.

When I shut down our Zoom Playhouse for the night, I expected the video to start downloading. But. NOTHING. My heart jumped when I realized that I didn’t have it. Any of it. This magnificent 90 minutes, gone. A reminder that things are indeed impermanent. And it was a whisper in my ear to stay connected to mindfulness.

The funniest part was that when our Zoom Maven, , and I met before anyone got to the room, we made a special note out loud to each other not to forget to push that little button labeled “Record.” Oops.

For me, a miracle occurred. I didn’t go to that horrible place of self-flagellation or calling myself a loser. I didn’t go to a place of blame (though Slamone could have been an easy mark), none of my old stuff came up. I didn’t run to my fridge or pantry to feed the discomfort or shame, because there wasn’t any.

Instead, I jumped into action.

The larger miracle and a perfect example of how women are able to work together to problem-solve, support one another, and get the job done. I witnessed it in real time.

I reached out to every storyteller on Saturday evening, right after the slam to tell them what happened. No one flipped out. Not a diva in the group. And I had a plan.

I asked each of them to meet with me, one on one, to record their stories again. From Saturday at 6pm to Sunday at 8pm, (minus a ten-hour break for dinner, sleep, the Sunday NYT Crossword Puzzle and two cups of coffee instead of my usual single, I worked with each storyteller, gathering their words, treated to a private showing and sent off each recording to my video editor and best pal. Everyone involved stepped up, gracious and willing.

We all came away knowing how special this show was.

Working with each storyteller and putting the show back together with them felt triumphant, similar to the live event we’d just offered to our audience.

Shit happens. How we deal with it is up to us. This time around, we don’t have the video of the show in its entirety.

To me, that’s another selling point for coming to the live show. Or not. But let me tell you, the people who did come were gifted with an experience that will stay with them for a very long time. I’m sure of it. Almost immediately afterward, I saw that a new paid subscriber. A man.

The show was breathtaking. One story after another moved me and gave me goosebumps. At one point, as I hosted, I remarked that I was having simultaneous moments of wanting to scream at the injustices, cry for the pain we as women live with every day, and laugh during the lighter moments that provided balance to the stories told, our lives reflected back to us.

You’ll see. Every story was brilliant.

Don’t miss the next one. We’re doing this thing!

P.S. If you take the time to “like” or comment on the post, please take the extra moment to restack (little spinny icon) this to spread the word to the people who subscribe and follow you. It will help us grow and get the word out to more people who might know we exist. I’m grateful for any boosts you can give.

P.P.S. As of March 2026, we were granted fiscal sponsorship from the nonprofit arts organization, Fractured Atlas. Because of that, people can now make tax-deductible donations in the U.S., to support the work of Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!

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If you’re a feminist writer with a Substack newsletter, and you want to tell a story at one of our themed monthly story slams, check out the theme calendar, send me a DM and sign up. We want to share our virtual stage with you. And for the time being, anyone who identifies as male is welcome to sit in the audience and hear us tell our lives.

Calendar of Themes

American Woman

Living Room

What Comes Next?

Style YOUR Stack!

Help this project grow by spreading the word. There are other ways to support this project. We now have a fiscal sponsor, which means that donations made to WBTYS are tax-deductible.

DONATE

If you’re a feminist writer with a Substack newsletter, and you want to tell a story at one of our themed monthly story slams, send me a DM. We’d love to share our virtual stage with you. For the time being, anyone who identifies as male is welcome to sit in the audience and hear us tell our lives.

Calendar of Themes

Slamone Tells a Scary Story

Eileen Dougharty — Thu, 19 Mar 2026 11:01:38 GMT

Slamone here to tell you kids a bedtime story. You might not sleep well afterward, because the main character is a monster.

This cautionary tale is about how sometimes women can screw over other women… and then label it family values.

Our lady monster is named Phyllis Schlafly, born in 1924 in St. Louis, Missouri. She was a “real housewife” long before Andy Cohen ever dreamed up wealthy women throwing wine at each other on television.

But Phyllis was no trad wife by today’s standards. Not even close.

She had six children, earned advanced degrees, wrote 26 books, ran for Congress, gave endless speeches, and was extremely enthusiastic about nuclear weapons.

She was doing everything except staying at home. In short, Phyllis was a busy beaver.

But her most monstrous hobby involved equal rights for women, specifically the Equal Rights Amendment.

The ERA was first introduced in 1923, then finally reintroduced in 1972, with a ratification deadline of 1979, later extended to 1982.

And for a while, things were moving along pretty well thanks to women like Gloria Steinem, Betty Friedan, Bella Abzug, Shirley Chisholm, and lots of other women who were burning bras, demanding equality, and telling men to make their own damn dinner for a change.

There was even Playgirl magazine, which featured full frontal male nudity. Zizi everywhere!

Mon dieu! Feminism was having a moment.

But then the Phyllis monster rose from the suburban depths and decided she could not abide.

She launched the STOP ERA movement. That stands for Stop Taking Our Privileges, which is a twisted way to frame equality.

Phyllis traveled the country warning women that if the ERA passed, terrible things would happen.

Women would be drafted into the military. There would be unisex locker rooms. Unisex prisons.

And worst of all, apparently, men might have to start pitching in. GAH! The nerve.

She also warned that stay-at-home mothers would lose their special protections and that feminists were bitter radicals who were probably lesbians.

She also opposed gay rights and abortion rights, which makes it extra special that one of her sons later came out as gay. RAINBOW PLOT TWIST.

Anyway.

Phyllis spent years touring the country, rallying conservative homemakers, and warning them that if the ERA passed they might lose things like alimony protections.

She convinced enough women to oppose the amendment that the momentum slowed down.

When the 1982 deadline arrived, the ERA was three states short of ratification.

Three. Not the magic number School House Rock sang about.

Which means the Constitution came this close to guaranteeing equal rights regardless of sex… and then Phyllis smashed that shit with her sensible daytime pumps.

The housewife monster won that round. She lived to be 92 years old, behind Trump’s 2016 campaign all the way, because of course she was.

If you’d like to learn more about this ERA (see what I did there)… Slamone recommends the excellent series Mrs. America.

If you were too busy sterilizing your groceries in 2020 when it came out, now is your chance.

The Phyllis monster is played with terrifying perfection by Cate Blanchett, and you can view it on Hulu.

Yes, I know streaming services are politically complicated these days. Perhaps your phone company will pay for it. Or you can borrow a password from a conservative relative and consider it wealth redistribution.

AND/OR…

You can join us for a live all-star equal rights extravaganza on Saturday, March 21 at 5 PM Eastern.

Our modern-day storytelling feminists will share their four-minute personal tales about the long road to gender equality.

So throw off your bra, tell your family to Door Dash dinner, and buckle up.

Because unlike Phyllis Schlafly, these women are actually trying to protect and raise up ALL WOMEN. Don’t miss your chance to support them!

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Help!

Nan Tepper — Mon, 16 Mar 2026 00:01:07 GMT

Why Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!?

Remember the ERA? The Equal Rights Amendment? From the 1970s? I do. I was quite young at the time. The ERA that’s still NOT the law of the land or the world?

Remember Phyllis Schlafly? The anti-Feminist? The hypocrite. The lawyer. I do.

The devil’s spawn and a traitor to women.

She did everything in her power to burn the ERA down. We lost back then, but we never stopped fighting. It’s still not ratified and the way things have been going, I don’t expect we’ll be seeing that victory any time soon, so we need to take care of one another, not just emotionally, not just socially, but economically, too.

That means supporting one another’s ventures. Spending on women-owned businesses. Paying it forward any way we can. It doesn’t always have to be cash. But let’s face it, cash still makes things happen, gives us power, and we don’t talk about often enough.

The fascist patriarchs in this country want to take away our right to vote. They’ve already taken our bodily autonomy.

Now, we have to fight even harder because the idiots in charge want us barefoot, pregnant, stupid, and silent. They want to enslave us.

Well, I prefer to keep wearing shoes (but no socks), I’m too old to get pregnant, I’m smart, and loud, and I will never, ever stop talking, telling stories and bringing other women together to tell theirs.

If you haven’t been to Wham! Thank You! Slam! you want to check this out. It’s not just a fun playground. It’s a battlefield. But our weapons aren’t guns.

Our weapons are words. Our weapons are our wallets and our love.

The theme for this month’s slam is ERA Now, Dammit!

I’ve always been a feminist; I became one at the age of five.

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How it works:

Storytelling builds community and we need community right now and always.

We’re providing a virtual stage to showcase women’s stories and women’s voices.

If you’re a feminist, a cis or trans woman, nonbinary, or a person of color, you’re welcome to come tell a story. If you’re mad as hell about the way things are going, come tell a story. The only requirement is being a writer on Substack.

Every time one of you takes the stage to tell your story, your potential audience is multiplied, because between us, we have thousands of readers. We create a video record that can be watched for years.

When you sign up to tell a story you get at least a month of free promotion from us.

For now, we’re not featuring male storytellers. Sometime in 2027, I’d like to invite feminist men to come tell their stories. I’m thinking maybe an all-male revue. Like Chippendales. Or not. Because being clothed at the slam is absolutely MANdatory.

The patriarchy is toxic and deadly; it’s divisive and cruel. We’re creating a structure that’s flexible, unifying, and non-competitive. There’s love here. A lot of the women participating in Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! have been writing about the power and purpose of building matrifocal communities. They’re teaching me so much and they’re telling their stories right here.

The Ask:

1. Become a paid subscriber. An annual paid membership comes with free entry into every monthly slam. You get 12 shows for the price of 10. And there are no ticket fees.

2. A monthly subscription gets you entry for as long as you’re subscribed. And there are no ticket fees.

3. Buy a ticket and come to the show (there are fees). Then, become a paid subscriber.

4. Make a tax-deductible donation. WBTYS now has a fiscal sponsor, a non-profit arts organization called Fractured Atlas. So now we can offer this option. Donors will receive two guest tickets for any contributions above $100. Any donation of $1000 or more will receive tickets and some fabulous merch.

5. Sign up to tell a story. C’mon. You know you want to. That’s another way to give.

6. Volunteer! We can always use some help. DM me (Nan) and we’ll talk.

Please remember, if you can’t afford to buy a ticket, let us know and you’re in. DM me.

The Players:

This is a community effort and I can’t do it alone. is a huge contributor to Wham! Bam! and to me. She’s writing great copy. She comes up with one pithy zinger after another. I don’t know how she does it.

She’s the one who named us Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!

Slamone is supposed to help, but we hardly ever see her, and is my go-to Zoom maven. Jeanne Vitale is our video editor and my oldest friend.

Some of our positions are paid, and some aren’t. All the income from subscriptions and ticket sales are going to expenses and I’m building a fund so that in the near future we’ll be able to pay honorariums to our storytellers. I haven’t spent a single cent on myself. I use my design job to fund this work.

Consider that my quarterly financial report.

Here’s the thing. I’m not great at asking for help. I like to do things my way. So this is a departure from my usual M.O.

A lot of us think we have to take the world on, solo. I don’t want to live that way anymore. It’s a hard habit to let go of, because it tends to make me feel vulnerable.

I’m fierce. I’m also a lover.

And vulnerability? It’s a superpower.

Read about our Storytellers

This month we’re featuring: , , , , , , , , , and .

Time to get your tickets for Saturday’s show!

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Sample some of the stories, or watch them all!

Life Comes Full Circle

Nan Tepper — Sun, 08 Mar 2026 14:03:32 GMT

I didn’t wear glasses when I was a kid. I used to try to fake my vision tests, I wanted glasses so badly. My brother had them. I was jealous. He looked smart.

Huzzah! It’s official!

Today, I’m a senior citizen. I think it’s hilarious. In Yiddish, I’m an alte kaker. It means old poop. It’s what Katherine Hepburn called Henry Fonda in On Golden Pond. They were goyim, they didn’t know the Yiddish.She just called him an old poop.

I can’t believe I’m this old because I feel like a kid. Oh. That’s what old people say. I’m beyond happy that I’m alive and sixty-five. It’s not my custom to publish on Sunday, but today’s the day.

On March 8, 1961, at 9:30 or 10:30, in the morning, not sure which one’s right, I emerged, two weeks late. 5 pounds, eleven ounces. 19” long. Apparently, one of my feet was malformed and had to be casted at birth. I don’t know which foot, they both seem fine. Well, the right one has a bunion, but that’s an old lady thing. I earned it.

Almost every year, my mother texts at 12:01am to be the first to wish me a happy birthday. I’ve never told her how sweet I think that is. Please don’t tell her I said that.

Every year she tells me she was in labor for 14 hours as if it was some Guinness World Record. I only asked her once if it was exciting to see me come out. Why did I ask only once? Because she missed that part; she opted for the drugs. My feelings were hurt, though in retrospect, I would have opted for the drugs, too. Never tell her I said that.

Every year, my mother tells me I was born during a huge snowstorm. She told me the storm was a blizzard. She said it was so bad, my father couldn’t make it to the hospital. My mother has a reputation for being the queen of hyperbole (as an aside, it’s possible I may be the princess. It’s a genetic predisposition).

You know what I’m going to say now, right? You don’t? Okay, you’re not going to tell her I said that, either.

There was a blizzard in 1961, it wasn’t March, it was February and yielded 17 inches of snow. It’s documented; I looked it up, today. On the day I was born, 0.6 of an inch of snow fell, the low was 32º, the high was 41º. It’s documented; I looked it up. It seems hyperbole won the day. But was it hyperbole or was it a lie? Where was my new dad the day I was born.

Hmmmm. Not sure I want to know.

This IS NOT my father on the day of my birth. This is some other dude, after the real storm. And we didn’t have a Rambler. We had a Studebaker Lark. Or did we??

After all these years, it never occurred to me to look it up until I was writing this post. I have to tell you, I’m not a bit surprised. What IS surprising is I’m not upset. I laughed. That’s important. It means that the feelings of anger and resentment I’ve carried around for most of my life about the dysfunctional family I grew up in are falling away.

There are times I think I know too much about the past. There are other times, when I think that the information I do possess has only scratched the surface of all the things I don’t know and will never learn. And today, it doesn’t matter.

The most important thing is that I’m here and I’m happy. My life is the life I always wanted. As a storyteller, a memoir writer, facts are important, but what ARE facts? What I rely on, when telling my stories are my impressions of the life I’ve lived and the memories I hold. My interpretation. That’s all I can ever have.

Facts are for the weather.

When I was a child, someone told me that I was born on a Wednesday. Then they told me that meant I was full of woe. Wednesday’s child is full of woe. Wednesday’s child had far to go. I know that one’s for Thursday’s child, but it was true for me, too. I was a sad kid, a sad teenager, and a sad adult, for a very long time.

When I heard that I was born on Wednesday, that was the fact, but I took the other piece of information and made that a fact as well. It was my brand. Sad. That’s how I lived for most of my life, carrying this core wound, this core belief.

Many of you know from reading my previous stories, that I’ve come a long way. I’ve done hard work to dispel that old belief. I fought for my life. And now, my life is mine. It’s mine.

I guess by the time these were taken, the cast was off, and I was well on my way to feeling my feelings.

So today IS the happiest day. It’s a good day. Because I can look at the last couple of years and know for a “fact” how far I’ve come, how much I’ve healed. The life I live now is the one I want. Sad isn’t my go-to, and sometimes I feel sad. But it doesn’t scare me and it doesn’t linger. I embrace the feeling and then move through it to the next one. There’s more pain in resisting the feelings, than letting them come. Sometimes, I have more than one feeling at the same time. And guess what? Feelings aren’t facts. Nothing is black and white anymore. In 12-step meetings, we speak to that, we celebrate when the black and white thinking goes away. Many say they’re grateful to be living in the gray.

Not me. I live in the rainbow. It’s a spectrum of feelings, and it’s far more entertaining. Life is vivid when you live in a rainbow.

So, I’m not going to hang with you too much longer today (famous last words). It’s my birthday, and I have some work to do before I go hang with my best friend, Jeanne. We celebrate our birthdays together every year. We were born 5 days apart, and a year. I’m the older one.

For a long time, I needed to make a big deal of my big day. It meant expensive dinners out, usually French. But if my birthday didn’t feel special enough; if not enough people got in touch, or sent me cards, or got me great gifts and baked me delicious cakes, I’d get depressed. The let-down was enormous. Not anymore.

This year, instead of spending a big wad of cash, I’m going to her house. I’m bringing my pups. We’re going to have pizza. That will be a treat, because I don’t eat it as much as I used to. She bought me seltzer, my favorite flavor. Plain. It’s Jewish that way. Flavored seltzer? I don’t think so. We’ll probably get high and watch a movie. And we’ll laugh and laugh and laugh. Because that’s what we do best together. And nothing compares to that particular brand of joy.

So, here’s a quick inventory of what I’ve gotten done this past year, because I’m proud of the work I’ve accomplished and the direction I’m heading in. Here’s the list:

Published an essay in The Rumpus. It was my first submission ever.
Got brave enough to submit again, to Dorothy Parker’s Ashes, and it was rejected! It’s official. I’m a writer.
I’m going to be published in an anthology of essays about mothers and daughters. It’s a real book I’ll put on my shelf. I’ll be in the company of some stellar writers. You’ll see, in 2027.
Writing my first memoir.
Started a GLP-1 and lost a bunch of weight. The weight loss is great, but feeling healthier is the best part for me. I’m loving my still-fat body. If I never lose another pound I don’t care. I’m perfect the way I am. I needed help to get here. Now, I have to get this ass to the gym. That’s the goal for this year.
I’m staying on the medication, because it takes the food noise away, and my A1C is normal.
I go to ACA 12-step meetings.
After 5 years (and quite a few decades) I graduated from therapy. It was time to stop, for now.
Officially retired from web design. Now I can do more graphic design, the part of the job I love the most.
Left a client I worked with for fourteen years. She helped me discover my storyteller self and gave me my first web design job. I realized it was time to do for myself what I’ve been doing for others, for years.
Started Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! an online feminist story slam.
Applied for fiscal sponsorship through a non-profit arts organization and got it, so now people can support Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! by making donations that are tax-deductible.
Published a weekly essay for my 2^nd year in a row.
Realized that continuing to write a weekly essay is more than I can produce right now, so I’m giving myself permission to write one essay a month and treat my Next Write Thing readers to the video of the monthly story slam. Cutting back was a hard decision. But I want to be good to myself and my readers.
I’m making wonderful new friends and letting go of relationships that don’t serve me.
Axed Zuckerberg and everything Meta, once and for all. I’m not ready to pull the plug on Bezos. I have to be honest about that.
Realized that I’m in love. With being single.
Love who I see when I look in my mirror, and I look at all of me now, not just my face.
Learned how to make and keep boundaries.
Have a solid relationship with Grace, my higher power.
Not afraid of those bullies. You know who I mean. I’ll be damned if I give them the satisfaction. I have a life to live, and lots to do, including fighting the forces of evil, just like Wonder Woman.
Making a difference.
I’m forgiving my family. I never thought I’d get to that place.
My 5-year-old self and my teenager. are safe and happy.
My inner loving parent is doing a great job.

Last, but not least:

I have everything I need and always did. I just had to figure that out.

Thank you to all of you who read my stories, comment, and share. You give me more than you’ll ever know. You blow me away.

Oh, and the thing I love the most about my birthday?

It’s also International Women’s Day. See, I was a feminist from my very first day on the planet and I’ve got the paper to prove it.

xoNan

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Slamone Slams Into Spring!

Slamone de Beauvoir — Sat, 07 Mar 2026 12:02:19 GMT

Salut, mes petits amis! First, I wish to wish an early joyeux Nanniversaire (see what I did there?) to la grande dame du slam, Nan Tepper, who celebrates her birthday tomorrow. I will raise a tall glass of scotch in her honor when I complete this missive. And a bit of birthday gâteau? Don’t mind if I do.

Also, let there be more light! Tonight is when Amérique springs forward an hour for some archaic reason. Too bad they moved the political clock back decades in the wrong direction! I could never envision myself in servitude to another human, especially a man who couldn’t recognize that my abilities are just as valuable as his. Quel dommage, probably why I remained single and was known to kiss hot girls on occasion.

In my native France we have been ensuring equal pay for equal work in our Constitution as far back as 1972. And we are working on the future for our female population with legislation requiring companies to have at least 30% of the management be women. In 2027, it will be 40%. We have parity laws enforcing gender balance in elected leaders and transgender healthcare including puberty blockers and hormone therapy are available. We even have a law against street harassment named after our former minister of gender equality, Marlene Schiappa.

Does the land of the free and the home of the brave have a minister of gender equality? Ca c’est drôle, just kidding. Here they are trying to prevent women from voting with some nonsense about married last names. Yet another reason to never be wed.

Thank goodness for Alysa Liu modeling how to be a (s)hero. She agreed to return to skating after retiring at 16, but only if she was fully in control of how she looked, what she ate, and all aspects of her creative expression. She wanted skating to express her JOY, not an unreasonable standard of perfection focused on scores. She went on to win gold with her tiger-striped hair and her newly found freedom. Félicitations, Alysa!

Here’s hoping Persephone breaks free of Hades and the underworld soon so we can celebrate Printemps and the return and rebirth of life here in the mortal realm. Or so the Greeks profess. As usual, the oppressed goddess has to do all the heavy lifting.

If you’re searching for a first day of spring celebration to fill yourself with feminist spirit without leaving the house, our soon-to-be birthday girl Nan will give you all the details below.

À bientôt!

Shhhh. Don’t tell Slamone I popped in. What? She told you I’d be here? Damn. She ruins all my fun. Here’s the scoop:

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This show is gonna be great. Here’s the lineup:

, , , , , , , , , and ! Nan, Eileen, and Mel will be stepping up to tell their stories, too. Hope to see you on March 21! xo

Crew!

Nan Tepper — Sat, 07 Mar 2026 03:19:08 GMT

First, meet the delightful and dangerous divas of dish, and . Our beloved muse and matron saint of feminism, . She’s a little unreliable, but even when she’s MIA, her spirit fills our hearts and minds. And then there’s our Zoomarella aka . And our media maven, Jeanne Vitale, who puts the finishing touches on the storyteller videos.

Our crew is strapped in and ready to take off.

Nan is memoirist-in-chief at The Next Write Thing. She’s a graphic designer who styles stacks for other writers at Style Your Stack. She does all the design for WBTYS. If you like what you see, give her a holler. Nan doesn’t believe we have to be competitive to win at writing or life. She knows that we have to show up as our best selves, keep sharing our truth and we need to make each other laugh.

Style YOUR Stack

When Eileen Dougharty isn’t flying around the country passing out drinks, snacks, and snark, she is furiously scribbling her musings at You’re Right, I Do Look Tired, here on Substack. She began writing sketch comedy when she moved to Chicago in 2009, but quickly found her real life adventures were far more entertaining. Diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2018, Eileen chronicles her unconventional life, most recently featuring tales of how she spent her Hot Brain Surgery Summer.

Too poor to marry, Slamone chain-smoked philosophy and took lovers instead. No time for kids while birthing feminism with a pen and a glare. Could out-drink and out-think her existential fuck buddies, including Sartre and Nelson Algren.
Nickname: Beaver

Chez Slamone de Beauvoir

Mel Moseley is a storyteller, writer, actor, musician, artist, and fledgling witch. She lives with her black cat, Shadow, mostly off-grid in Fiddletown, California. If you want to collaborate with her, the project has got to include play, community, and creativity. Mel writes Mel’s Messy Love Lab!

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E.R.A. Now, Dammit! Our March story slam.

Nan Tepper — Tue, 03 Mar 2026 11:02:54 GMT

Hi All,

We’re doing it again on Saturday, March 21, 2026 at 5PM ET. I’ll let you figure out your time zone! The line up this month at Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! is phenomenal. Again!

If you enjoyed the last slam, this is your next opportunity to enjoy. Again!
If you couldn’t make the last one, here we are. Again! And, guess what…
We’ll be here next month, too.
And, the month after that…

Come play with us. Hear these women’s stories. This slam comes packaged with all the feelings. There may even be a couple you haven’t felt before.

And, afterwards, if you feel the urge to join us on our virtual stage and tell your own story and you have a publication on Substack, send Nan a message, and she’ll get you on the roster.

American Woman

Living Room

What Comes Next?

Get Tickets on Eventbrite

Style YOUR Stack!

Help this project grow by spreading the word. There are other ways to support this project. We now have a fiscal sponsor, which means that donations made to WBTYS will be tax deductible.

DONATE

Enter Slamone!

Slamone de Beauvoir — Thu, 26 Feb 2026 18:24:07 GMT

La collage (c’est Francais!): Nan Tepper

Bonjour, mon petit chatons! Slamone here. I have been getting a bad rap around in these parts for being a slacker. C’est vrai, I’ve been spending a majority of my time at cafes, smoking and sipping coffee with my graph paper and my fountain pen. I prefer to do my writing by hand out in the world, I can’t be bothered to “live online.” In my defense, I applied for the job of MUSE…you didn’t think that meant I would show my face on a regular basis? MUSE sounds like a remote gig if ever there was one.

For March, however, I am making an exception. The theme for le slam is ERA Now, DAMMIT. As a preeminent voice for feminism and author of “The Second Sex,” I felt like the time was right for me to chime in. In my native France, things are decidedly more progressive; did you know that in 2024 France became the first country to include the right to an abortion in their constitution? Here in the land of the free and the home of the brave, the Olympic hockey brutes celebrate with Lame Duck à l’Orange, making disparaging comments about the women’s team, those dames should hit them in their petit pee-pees with their hockey sticks. Disgraceful!

I once mused, “Man is defined as a human being and a woman as a female - whenever she behaves as a human being she is said to imitate the male.” See, I MUSE like no other as far as gender inequality goes, that’s why I have this “job.” Certainly you have feelings on the subject, especially after witnessing two qualified women lose the presidency to the fake-tan crétin. Perhaps you have a story about gender injustice? Le slam has one opening for storytellers willing to tell a four minute personal tale revolving around this theme. You must be a writer who does not identify as male with a Substack publication to shout about. Let your voice be heard!

Surely you want to hear women’s voices and support them…I didn’t write that damn book for nothing. Your country’s State of the Union address requires a fact-checker for heaven’s sake, now is the time to tune in and get involved. I would bet the bottle of Johnny Walker I keep in my desk for special occasions (like days that end in “Y”) that you will be energized by hearing women talk about their fight for equality and their experiences with the lack there of. I will hand you over to Nan with the event details to follow, my work here is done.

À tout à l'heure! La Muse out!

Slamone

Get Your Tickets

The Love Boat Replay

Nan Tepper — Mon, 23 Feb 2026 16:12:22 GMT

Hey, it feels like we’re getting the hang of this. Though, we’ve been battling with something. To paywall or not to paywall?

“But, on the other hand…”
~Tevye the dairyman, a guy who possessed more than two.

On the one hand: We paywall the entire show, then only paid subscribers will see it. The perk for paid subscribers is the option coming to the live show and seeing paywalled posts. But maybe, coming to the show is enough?
But, on the other hand: if we let everyone see the whole replay for free, then more people can see what this is all about, get the word out, and come to the show.
On the one hand: if we paywall, are we sabotaging the mission? We want inclusivity, regardless of financial status. We don’t want to open the door and then hold our hand up and say, “Oops, sorry, but YOU can’t come in.”
But, on the other hand: we ALWAYS prefer to err on the side of generosity and trust.
Two hands clapping! We’re leaving the replay open to all. We hope this will sell more tickets to next month’s show.
Standing ovation: We want everyone to enjoy a hearty meal, not just a little taste! Bon appétit!

If you can afford to upgrade to a paid subscription to support the work, we’re forever grateful.

$100/year gets you entry into every live show, no ticketing fees, supports the art of what we’re doing and the visibility of people whom others might silence.

And now, The Love Boat, our alt-Valentines Day Romp!

(If you don’t want to watch the show in it’s entirety, scroll down, and find each storyteller’s performance.)

Nan was a little mortified at how long she went on at the beginning of the show, and won’t be insulted IN THE least if you skip that part!

Please help us get the word out by restacking this post. Word of mouth is powerful.

Find each storyteller’s performance, in order of appearance, as you scroll down the page. Enjoy!

We kicked the show off with a warm-up by Eileen Dougharty, my always partner-in-slam. Eileen knows how to get things started:

Notes From An Uncaged Warrior Parakeet

The Long Climb

Open Secrets Magazine

A Suitable Vessel for Magic

Age of Enlightenment

And now, an interlude from ZoomaMella, more commonly known to all of us as Mel Moseley, who publishes Mel’s Messy Love Lab. Mel is our wonder woman in the Zoom room, and helps Nan run the show. And, she’s a damn good storyteller.

Mel's Messy Love Lab

Editor on Board

Pathways of Connection

There's Nothing Wrong With You...

To see the whole thing the day it happens, the banter, the intros, the energy and appreciation of our live audience, you’ll need to upgrade to a paid subscription to come to a show.

In order to grow this project, and to pay honorariums to our wonderful storytellers in the near future, Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! needs to generate income.

We’ve applied for fiscal sponsorship to allow people another avenue to support our work and receive a tax deduction, too. Hoping to get the decision by week’s end.

You’ll get an idea of how much fun it is to attend the live show.

If you were at the show on Saturday, tell us what you loved. If you’re watching for the first time, tell us what you loved. If you’re a writer on Substack and don’t identify as male, and want to tell a story on our virtual stage, DM Nan!

Fascinated with Nan Tepper

Jess Greenwood — Wed, 18 Feb 2026 12:02:52 GMT

Hi gang! I’m sharing this article with all of you because, oh boy! I’m a star! This post is paywalled on Jess’s site, but you’re getting a sneak preview of the whole article because I love you all….and I want to strut my stuff a bit! Women need to brag more. Okay, , take it away, sister!

This is the first article in my brand spanking new Fascinated series. To see the full write up, you will need to upgrade to a paid subscription. If you’re wondering “What the fuck is this?”, you probably missed last week’s post.

No worries! You can catch up here.

Welcome to Fascinated! A series where I interview people who fascinate me about their work, their why’s, and their what the fucks and share all of that with you. Today, I have the sincere pleasure of introducing you to our first guest, Nan Tepper.

I just adore this pic of Nan in her signature green, tattoo all glaring at ya in the forefront. This photo says I’m too smart to fuck with, and man oh man, is she. Portrait: Franco Vogt, Woodstock NY

The first thing you need to know about Nan is that you will not get anything past her. She does not stand on convention, she will not let you slide, and she expects that you have a reason for everything you do. Because she does. And, when questioned (or criticized), she’s happy to share said reason. Boldly, but not bitchily. Nan fascinates me because when called to the carpet for anything she’s said or done, she doesn’t lash out, she reaches in. A lifetime of therapy (from talk to shock), a more recent trip through the 12-Steps, and Grace, her name for whatever floats beyond us, has made her an unapologetic advocate for Nan. Where that could easily produce defensiveness or even arrogance, in Nan it comes out through carefully considered words that are meant to do nothing more than share her truth. Your perception is your problem, but she will entertain your perspective all day long.

That is fascinating.

Along with her buddy, Eileen Dougharty, Nan is the originator of Wham! Bam! Thank you! Slam!, a virtual version of the live story slams Nan has been participating in for the past several years. The tagline, “1 story. 4 minutes. Zero dicks.” garnered gobs of attention on Substack, the current home of the publication, both the good kind and the party pooper kind. WBTYS (because who doesn’t love an acronym?) is a place for female authors with smaller Substack publications to tell their stories. Men are welcome to watch the Slam, encouraged, in fact, to buy a ticket, although at a higher price than their female counterparts. But, they are not allowed on stage. Zero dicks. Period. The anatomical kind or any other kind.

People felt some kinda way about that.

I knew they would, and if I’m honest, I was cringing behind my computer on Nan’s behalf, waiting for the onslaught of patriarchy to rain down on her parade. It did. And she didn’t care. To her, it’s a joke. With a broader meaning. It’s also her stage. You don’t like the rules? You need not participate. But there was one pushback that gave her pause. She picked up her pen and responded in such a beautifully human way that I was, you guessed it, fascinated. If you, too, are feeling some kind of way about dicks and their inclusion or lack thereof, read Nan’s response here.

The care and conviction she showed in this response is when I realized that WBTYS was far more than just a fun project for Nan.

I knew from Nan’s writing on her original Substack, The Next Write Thing, that she struggled mightily with depression for most of her life. We’re talking the ugly, dark, take over your life kind. I also knew that she used to be a person who was afraid to try, her fear of failure or judgment so strong that it overwhelmed any sense of “I might,” “I could,” or heavens to Betsy, “I can.” So, how in the hell do you take someone like that and get them to go on stage to tell a 4-minute story about their life?!? And then entice them to return and do it again?

Nan explains the crack factor here:

Hey, it’s Nan. I’m interrupting this post for a moment to say I’m upgrading to a paid membership because I want to read the rest of Jess’s Fascinated! conversations, because I hate missing out. xo

Subscribe to Jess!

And this is when I found out Nan was a clown.

Y’all, I couldn’t have been more confused. A what?!? Apparently, in the seventies on Long Island they offered “How to be a clown” summer camp where official Ringling Brothers clowns came to teach kids their craft. I’ll hold off on inserting my disdain for clowns here because they scare the living crap out of me, but whatever. Nan, ever the entrepreneur, saw an opportunity, and promptly got her mom to start schlepping her around the boroughs on weekends to be the paid entertainment for story time at the library. Picture Nan, indignantly avoiding any public demonstration of her talent, hamming it up with some balloon animals and and a bright red nose. I can’t. It’s confusing, right?

I didn’t see that coming, I will admit, but as our conversation continued, it started to make more sense. Nan is a performer at heart. She wants to be the source of people’s feel good, but that didn’t feel possible when she played herself until very recently.

Nan and I got into the body shaming stuff early on in our relationship. As a fat teenager (her) and an anorexic one (me), I understood immediately how her body has gotten in the way of her storytelling, and she sees how my fear of food continues to eat away at my joy.

Nan’s ability to articulate how hurtful her own body has felt to her at times can leave me breathless, the air disappearing from my lungs as if she borrowed my breath, my own truths rolling off of her lips. I felt my eyes prick at her unabashed acknowledgment of the role fatness has played in her inability to fully step into herself, this quote in particular landing right across my solar plexus.

“But as a fat teenager, if I dressed up like a clown, and pretended that I wasn’t me, I could do it. I was somebody else.”

Ugh. That’s sadly not fascinating. Just true.

She’s working on letting that body shaming shit go, but it still shows up, particularly in her preferred way of performing now. The Story Slam. She hates going up on stage in her body. Podiums are her friend, another place to hide. But, despite the lurking fear of judgment from every body in the audience, Nan takes the mic anyway. She knows that if there’s an asshole sitting in the audience that’s more focused on her body than her story, that’s on him, not her.

See, this is what fascinates me. The Nan that perseverated over whether her body is good enough to stand on stage is the same Nan that stole her brother’s underwear because she just wanted to wear boys underwear. They were more comfortable, and she liked them better. One q

uestions whether her body has worth and the other values its comfort so much it goes about stealing to make it happy.

I could cop out and say ‘It’s complicated, and so is Nan.” But I actually don’t believe that. I think Nan fascinates me so much because she’s not complicated. Complex…absolutely. But, not complicated. I wonder if that’s because she’s written so honestly about herself that I feel like I understand her complexity, its origins, and how it shows up for her these days. If that’s the case, it’s a testament to her writing, which is, in and of itself, confusing as Nan didn’t become a writer until two years ago.

For most of her life, Nan claims she wasn’t a writer. I stopped myself from inserting the tired argument that “If you write, you’re a writer” because Nan got ahead of me and told me she only wrote about 1,000 words a year for the slams she participated in up until she joined Substack. Okay, just kidding,

maybe you weren’t a writer. Then, how in the hell did you decide in your 60’s that you would go from writing two essays a year to one a week for over two years straight? That’s quite the transition, Nan.

Just jumping in might be a slight understatement, but it turns out that the simple joy of making people laugh in the context of the Slam helped shepherd Nan into the next iteration of herself. One that is, unequivocally, a writer. As she says, “It was an evolution.” Yeah, I’d say. That evolution involved a ton of therapy, medications, and a 12-Step program that Nan credits with saving her life. Going through the program helped her see what a dysfunctional home she grew up in and that her parents were not necessarily intentionally awful or neglectful people, but a product of their own dysfunctional homes. And despite the years of suffering, she’s kinda grateful that she lived the life she lived because its helped her see other people that suffer with compassion…most of the time, at least (her words, not mine).

And, WOW, has it given her an arsenal of stories from which to pull both for the Slam and for her writing.

I wanted to understand how Nan sits with that discomfort in her writing, especially given that she’s a person who does not enjoy discomfort. Nan scoffs at my proclivity for exercise as she loathes “sweating and panting”, and she has a person who does her grocery shopping because who likes going to the grocery store? But, she’s a master at approaching her own psychological discomfort bravely, and from a place of peace. As she says, “When I have a feeling like I want to defend or I’m reactive to something somebody else does, most of the time, I can step away and ask myself what is it about this that’s creating this reactivity in me?”

That’s such a masterful skill, and, unsurprisingly, for Nan, it came from doing the hard work. The personal work. The work that comes when you’re ready to dig through the dirt in order to actually find a clear path. I am just awed by what comes out on the other side when Nan goes through that process of self exploration.

So, because this publication is primarily about joy, I had to ask what brings Nan joy.

Her first response? “Getting into bed at night.”

Welp, yup, that tracks. The comfort thing and all.

Beyond that, her dogs, her cup of coffee in the morning, the NYT puzzle (the only part of the Times she can tolerate anymore), writing, and reading. Friends. And laughter.

Simple stuff. Predictable stuff. Fulfilling stuff.

There’s no wanderlust here. Nan wandered far and wide inside her own life for many years, and now that she’s finally found herself, the biggest blessing she can offer to that self is to stay put. BIG curiosity. Little footprint.

Now that’s fascinating.

If all this talk of dicks and slams has tickled your pickle, check out this month’s Wham! Bam! Thank you! Slam! slated for THIS SATURDAY, February 21st on Zoom. Tickets are still available, and you can laugh your ass off in the comfort of your own home. In your bed, in fact, if you’re like Nan and find joy there.

Sweating and panting is not required, so what’s holding you back?

Find out more!

Get Tickets!

Another message from Nan. I know the names might be hard to read on the graphic, so…here’s the line-up for Saturday: , , , , , , , , , , with special appearances by , , and . , we’re sure, will be missing in action, once more. But her spirit surrounds us always. It’s a little creepy, honestly. xo

Our February Story Slam: The Love Boat

Nan Tepper — Mon, 02 Feb 2026 12:04:16 GMT

Please help us get the word out by restacking this post. Word of mouth is powerful.

Support free speech and daring creative expression.

I started Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! as a way to amplify feminist voices and other marginalized populations. And yes, it’s impossible to believe that women, who comprise more than 50% of the world’s population, are marginalized, but it’s true; in almost every culture on the planet. That’s unacceptable.

I want to boost women writers on Substack and introduce them to our community of readers and fans. When WBTYS storytellers step onto our virtual stage, we get to introduce them to you, and to one another. This is how we grow.

Our voices mustn’t be silenced, ever.

We welcome feminists, women (cis and trans), nonbinary & intersex folks, all the people of the skin color rainbow, religion, sexual orientation, there are so many etceteras. We welcome anyone who identifies as male to support this project as generous audience members.

Come tell a story. Come listen. Come learn.

SUBSCRIBE NOW

Scroll down to read about our featured storytellers. It’s a great line-up!

On February 21, 2026 at 5PM ET, we’re bringing you our second slam. YES!

We’re telling stories about love, and that could mean anything. The storytellers are calling the shots here. Savor a sampling of mushy love notes, heart-stirring, heartbreaking Dear John/Jane letters, a smattering of O.Henry irony, mixed with a soupçon of Cole Porter Anything Goes joie de vivre!

We learned so much after the first slam, My Body, My Rules. If you haven’t seen the videos yet, head on over and take a peek; the stories and the storytellers were fabulous.

For now, have a look at our line-up and buy a ticket OR take a leap of faith and become an annual paid subscriber. You’ll be able see the live event on Zoom, and then to return to the archive of stories we’re building. You’ll never miss a thing, and with an annual paid subscription, you’ll get 12 shows for the price of 10.

SUBSCRIBE NOW

If you can’t make it, you can always see the replay later. That includes ticket holders.

If you choose to become an annual paid subscriber you’ll get more than if you buy a one-off ticket:

Access to the live show.
12 shows for the price of 10.
Access to all shows going forward.
After-show posts which include videos of all the stories.

SUBSCRIBE NOW

Notes From An Uncaged Warrior Parakeet

Meet our storytellers for this month’s slam, The Love Boat. The storytellers all have publications on Substack. You can find out more about them by clicking the button under each writer’s bio.

The Long Climb

Open Secrets Magazine

A Suitable Vessel For Magic

Age of Enlightenment

Editor On Board

Pathways Of Connection

There's Nothing Wrong With You...

Modern Mythology

Personal Statments

Individual tickets are $12 if you’re a guy…it’s that pesky wage gap thing. We call it our SIRcharge. There’s a lot of recouping to do! Everyone else pays $10.
Fair is fair.

TICKETS ON EVENTBRITE

You can attend any slam live (12 of ‘em) or in replay by becoming an annual paid subscriber.
That way you get 12 shows for the price of 10, and support the growth of this community project with your contribution. We’re speaking up, we’re speaking out, and we need your help to do that.

Find out more

Help us get the word out about the February slam. Click the heart “♥️” to “like” this post or the speech bubble “💬” to leave a comment, and use the spinny arrow thingy “🔄” to share/restack to the Substack community.

Available for iOS and Android

Start Here: Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!

Nan Tepper — Sun, 01 Feb 2026 16:43:00 GMT

Why did I start Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!?

I’ve been performing in local, live story slams since 2015. When I began, I had very little stage experience and I was barely writing. But life conspired to present an opportunity for me to get out of my own way and try something new. Something daring. I challenged myself to feel and face my fear, put it to the side, and get up on the stage and tell the stories of my life.

It only took one slam and I was hooked.

I wanted to create a slam on Substack since I landed here 2 years ago, but I knew I needed to wait so I could make friends, find my feet, and get acquainted with what’s possible on this platform. I began scheming and dreaming of all the ways I could champion storytellers here, and do my part to help others succeed.

Now, I’m offering you an opportunity to tell your stories, get your name out to a wider audience, find new readers, and make connections with a great community of wonderful writers and creators.

Given the state of the world and the backlash we, as women, are seeing and feeling, I decided to make the slam a feminist space. We welcome any writer who doesn’t identify as male to join this community as a storyteller.

And anyone who does identify as male is welcome to join us as an audience member.

Qualifications:

1. You publish on the Substack platform.

2. You have something to say about being a woman or marginalized in this culture.

3. You’re a wild lefty feminist troublemaker; antifascist and want to make change.

4. A sense of humor is always nice, but not mandatory.

5. You can tell a story in about 500 words/4 minutes or you’re dying to try.

6. You’d like to have some fun.

Ways to support Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!

I’m asking you to support this project by making a financial gesture that feels right to you. An annual paid subscription grants you access to every live show and all paywalled posts. You get 12 live shows for the price of 10.

There’s a founding member level; you get to be a “Big Mama.” This level is for those of you who can afford to give a little more, especially if you believe in this project and would like to help it grow.

Reach out to us directly if a paid subscription is onerous, and we’ll comp you, no questions asked. I don’t believe in one-percent attitudes here.

My bottom line? I want to spotlight writer’s words and wisdom. Women’s words.

I’m a little Pisces fish swimming in the greater Substack Sea. It’s easy for us to get lost. Community is exactly what I need right now, so I’m making it, and hoping you’ll come play.

The world is crazy. Let’s build something good together.

Sisters are indeed, doing it for themselves.

Let’s talk about “Zero dicks.” Again.

The question keeps coming up. I think people might be taking this a little too seriously. To me, the fact that there’s been dismay means something powerful is happening.

That’s an opportunity for a conversation. But this first. Maybe it’ll clear things up.

Our tagline is “1 story. 4 minutes. Zero dicks.” Using the word “dick” is intended to be tongue-in-cheek. As in “don’t be a dick.” Meaning “don’t be an asshole.”

In life, and on the stage.

That applies to men and women. Yes, this is a feminist project. No. I don’t hate all men, just the bad ones. I don’t like hating anyone, but sometimes my hand is forced. Making the choice to not invite men to be storytellers is more about saying no to male privilege, mansplaining, and manspreading. It’s not about a body part.

I’m happy to know that there are plenty of people who find humor in the tagline. For those of you who don’t, oh, well. Different strokes. Don’t read anything into that.

We can take ourselves a little less seriously and have some fun. I’m sure of it.

After an important conversation with a dear Substack friend who was concerned about the tagline, for reasons I didn’t consider, here’s some info on inclusivity and gender and how it’s being addressed in this space. This one’s important.

I believe in generosity. I believe in supporting others.

Step onto this virtual stage, face any fears you might have and tell us your life stories, we want to hear what you have to say. You may discover something new about yourself in the process.

Live storytelling has been one of the most empowering things I’ve ever done.

Each story slam is recorded on Zoom.

After each live show we edit the video and each story will be posted.

Are you a writer who wants to tell a story? Read more here for the lowdown.

THE LOWDOWN

Are you a wonderful and enthusiastic audience member looking for your next great entertainment? We have a post for you, too, because without you, we’re a just a good idea with nowhere to go. Check out your awesome role here.

WHAT'S MY JOB?

What We Learned After the First Slam

Nan Tepper — Tue, 20 Jan 2026 12:02:29 GMT

If you don’t want to read this recap, you can scroll down to go right to the videos.

I’m neither beneath or above anyone. I am independent of other people’s positive or negative opinion. I’m fearless in the face of all challenges.

My therapist gave me this wisdom from a Sufi teaching. I try to keep it in mind, but sometimes when my ego takes charge, it’s easy to forget.

“Competition while making art doesn’t work,” said my partner-in-storytelling, . Her message landed perfectly. We knew what to do next.

When I was new to competing in story slams, I was terrified but willing to face my fear and do it anyway. Then, I got better at it, more comfortable, more confident, and with that I became much more competitive.

A dark part of me, my inner critic, made herself known by judging the winners, and comparing myself to them, thinking, “my story was much better than theirs, why didn’t I win?” I didn’t keep those petty, sad thoughts to myself. I shared them with the judges, and some of my storytelling companions. I was a masterful sore loser.

My wise friend, Eileen, said to me today, “comparison is the thief of joy.” I wasn’t a joyful storyteller. I was angry and small.

I started winning occasionally, but winning fueled my competitive side, until this past September, when I told my story, “True or False?” at a live slam. My performance was fabulous. My timing was perfect, everything flowed. I left space for laughter and applause. It was a personal triumph. I went over the 4-minute time limit by 2 seconds and was disqualified. And for the first time, I didn’t care, because I knew I wrote a great story and did a great job. In my heart, I was a winner.

The competition in my local slam and the Moth were my only models. I recreated that here at Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!

We want you to know that we’re reframing this project to support the community and culture we want to create. Why?

Because each of us is unique. Each of has a life story. Who are we to decide what a winning story is? How can we judge the value of another person’s life experience or how they want to tell that story?

Everyone who told a story this weekend was a winner. Every single woman on our virtual stage.

Competition feels like part of the patriarchal construct. It doesn’t feel feminist at all. That’s not what we want to put forth.

We’re still asking people to tell a four-minute story. We can get a taste of their life experience, and it might leave our audience wanting to know more about the people who told the stories that touched them the most. They might want to read more of that storyteller’s work. Promoting writers was a primary reason for starting this project.

We’re keeping the timer, but it won’t be used as a measure of who wins and who loses. Its only job is to provide structure and the challenge of telling a complete story in 500 words, give or take. And if you finish in 4 minutes, give or take, that’s great. No winning, no losing.

It teaches, as writers, how to edit to the essence of what we want our audience to know.

The stories must be true, personal, and about the storyteller. How that writer goes about telling it is up to them.

Changes:

There will no competition. No voting.
There will be no cash prize.
No more distracting virtual backgrounds.
The slam will be presented in a regular Zoom meeting instead of the glitzy webinar format I wanted to showcase my design work.
The audience will have their video on. We want the storytellers to see the audience clapping and smiling.
The chat will be open. The audience should be empowered to express their enthusiasm, to quote lines, to show their admiration and gratitude.
There will still be a souvenir program because I love designing them. I want to offer a memento to anyone who’d like one. It gives me joy.
There will still be silly “checks” from Slamone that are paid from a fund of love and appreciation. The audience won’t see them. They’re for the storytellers.
We will continue to link to every storyteller’s stack to support building readership.
If storytellers want to support this project as paid subscribers, that’s up to them. They’re giving us their work and their time, and we’re grateful.

We hope this new direction will encourage more women to come play and share their life stories with us when they no longer have to concern themselves with beating the clock to win a prize.

We’re creating a supportive feminist community. We want learn from one another and grow as individuals. We want to celebrate your stories and tell some of our own.

The “win” comes from signing up, showing up, and telling our lives.

My Body, My Rules.

Eileen was the opening act. Scroll down to see all the stories.

The Storytellers:

If you love a particular story or all of them, and want to find out more about each writer, or subscribe to their stack, click the button under their bios.

The Armchair Journalist

Going Solo at the End of the World

I told the last story of the slam, and then I had a little private cry. Relief, that most of it went well, but I was laser-focused on doing a blow-by-blow inventory of myself, where I fell short, and where improvements will be made. Let’s just chalk it up to perfectionist fretting that needs to be taken to a 12-step meeting, pronto! Originally I exercised my prerogative to re-record my story because I could.

That’s not honest, and was rooted in shame.

I’m posting the original version now. I want to illustrate that even someone who’s been doing this for 10 years can have a bad night, and it’s not a reflection of talent or worth.

There’s no shame in this. Sometimes that’s a hard thing for me to remember.

You can attend any slam live (12 of ‘em) if you reserve early, or in replay by becoming an annual paid subscriber because the replays will be for paid subscribers only.
You’ll get 2 shows for free and support this project at a time when building community is essential to our well-being as feminists and women everywhere.
We’re speaking up, we’re speaking out, and we need you to help us do that!

Help us get the word out about our format change by restacking. Thanks!

Please comment below and give generous shout-outs to all the storytellers for their wonderful courage and powerful tales. They took a chance and graced us with their brilliance.

Our next show is February 21, 2026 on Zoom.

The theme is The Love Boat. That should be fun! It’s our alt-Valentine’s Day show.

Buy tickets now.

Fairy Dust

Nan Tepper — Mon, 19 Jan 2026 11:30:00 GMT

Before he died, my dad let us know he didn’t want a funeral. No sitting shiva. No memorial service. He wanted to be cremated. We’re Jewish. We’re supposed to be buried. It’s the rule! If he was scattered, how would I visit him? Or feel guilty about NOT visiting him?

The ashes come back from the funeral home and I divvy them up. My brother Steven and I each get half. My dad’s boyfriend, Robert, doesn’t want any. He wants us to have enough. Enough?

We can keep his ashes. Or scatter them.

I have no idea what to do, but I need to do something to celebrate my father.

Then, it comes to me.

I share my idea with Robert and Steven. Robert introduced dad to gambling and he loved it. He only played the nickel slots.

I’ve never been to a casino. Gambling scares me. I have an addictive personality and never have cash to burn. My brother loves to gamble, so we make a plan.

I measure out some of the ashes into 3 little round boxes. When we arrive in Atlantic City, I give each of the guys their box and we go our separate ways.

I walk to the water.

My father loved the beach. I open the little box and scatter some ashes into the surf. Because that’s what I’m supposed to do. The gesture feels empty, so I keep the rest. We regroup on the boardwalk and head to the Borgata, Dad’s favorite.

The noise, the smoke, the crowds are overwhelming, but I make my way to the slot machines. I discover that one-armed bandits are extinct. No handle to pull. Just a big button to push. What a rip-off.

I have $200 to lose.

I pick a machine and I’m about to feed a token into the slot when I get an idea. I reach into my bag and pull out the box of ashes. I place it on the ledge of the machine, remove the lid, and sprinkle a bit of my father onto the game. I whisper, “Come on Daddy, Nan needs a new pair of shoes!” Because that’s what I’m supposed to say. I push the button. A winner! It spits out $25 in tickets, and I’m hooked. I play one more time. Same routine. A pinch of dad and a sprinkle! I win again.

I move from game to game and keep winning. Every machine, a pinch and a sprinkle. I don’t win every time, but I’m way ahead.

Steven and Robert find me; their money’s gone. I’m still winning, but I’m running low on my secret ingredient.

I’m going home with $900.

My brother notices the almost empty box, cocks his head, and looks at me, a question in his eyes.

I turn to him, and with a giddy smile, say,

“You know what I’ve got here, Steven?”

His eyebrow arches.

“It’s fairy dust.”

Want to be in a Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!? If you’re a woman, nonbinary, or don’t identify as male (and you’re possessed of a feminist bent ) and you have a publication on Substack, we want you! Message us, and we’ll tell you all about it. Or take a look at the rest of the site and ask us questions. We’ve got answers, and if we don’t, we’ll ask our Matron Saint, Slamone de Beauvoir! She always knows what to say…and we follow her blindly. And if you’re a man, you are very welcome to attend any or all of our shows.

Read our Storyteller Tips. Check out some of the other 4-minute stories.

Our first story slam is on January 17, 2026. It’s an intimate setting for 100 audience members. If you’re a paid subscriber, we’ve got your ticket waiting. If you’re not a paid subscriber, you can buy a ticket.
Buy a ticket to our first slam!

And, please restack this post, share it with friend or sign up to tell a story. If you can afford it, become a paid subscriber. We are banding together to make good trouble, and to that, we want and NEED you to help us grow and get the word out.

Themes & Calendar of Events

Nan Tepper — Sun, 18 Jan 2026 18:28:00 GMT

We produce one story slam a month, each with an original theme. This is the schedule for the slams and themes.

If you publish on Substack and want to tell a story at our slam, choose a theme or two. Then message Nan and she’ll tell you what comes next.

Are you looking for great entertainment? Do you want to tell a story, but want to check us out first?

As an audience member, this schedule’s for you, too.

Choose 1 show, or all 12!

We have 10 storyteller spots available in each show

All shows are at 5pm ET, the third Saturday of the month.

C’mon, you know you want to, message us and tell us you’re in.

Death & Taxes (April), Mothers and Daughters (May ), and Kill the Patriarchy (June ) are booked. All other months are available. Come tell a story!
Audience members, you can buy a ticket for each slam OR for a much better value, become a paid subscriber. That will give you access to the live show. You’ll get 12 shows for the price of 8.

Watch the replay of the show.

Watch now!

We didn’t want to call it the V-word, because yawn. Or Galentine’s Day, because that’s just goofy. We’re harder-edged than that. Come, tell those love stories. We all have ‘em. They don’t have to have happy endings. Because is that even a thing? Prove us wrong. We dare you.

Our storytellers for The Love Boat:

, , , , , , , , , , and one from and from .

Watch the replay, kinda!

Watch now!

Is there anything else to say at this point? We think so. This isn’t just about the ERA. Bring it, sisters. Let’s make Phyllis Schlafly squirm in her grave for the being the traitor who pushed to derail the amendment to the Constitution, back when it still was respected.

This is a banner event. Feminism and usurping the patriarchy should be front and center right now. Take away a woman’s rights?

Fuck no.

They’re trying to move us in the wrong direction. BRING your fire, your fable, your cautionary tale.

Get tickets!

April 18, 2026 at 5pm ET

It’s April 18. Did you pay your federal taxes on the 15th?

We’re told that death & taxes are the two things we can be sure of; but I’m re-evaluating the “taxes” part.

Do you want to support a corrupt fascist government run by evil and blatant idiocy? I sure don’t. The last thing I want to do is line the monster’s pockets with hard-earned dough.

Are you as tempted as I am to forgo filing your federals? I’m on an extension so I have space to mull.

If you don’t feel like talking about your taxes, write something about the thing we’re absolutely certain will happen to all of us. Sooner or later. I guarantee it.

How do you feel about this one sure thing? Dying? Does it scare you? Our culture is terrified of death. It’s certainly terrified of aging. Look at the lengths we go to to stay young. Tell us? Are you good with it? Are you in denial? I was for a really long time.

The thing is, until we can let go of our fear of death, we can never live fully.

May 16, 2026 at 5pm ET

Enough said. You know what to do. This month’s event was the one that filled up the fastest. Seems a lot of us have mothers, huh?

June 20, 2026 at 5pm ET

Wow, two “enough said” slams in a row. Now, that’s winning, huh?

July 18, 2026 at 5pm ET

By now, we’ll know what kind of travesty the orange buffoon created on the 250th anniversary of the United States of America. Plenty to write about on this topic, without ever mentioning his name or deeds.

The team at WBTYS now holds citizenship in the United States of Vajajay.

Our “borders” are closed to all buffoons––forever––orange or not.

August 15, 2026 at 5pm ET

Yes, indeedy. On August 26, 1920, the 19th Amendment was ratified, finally allowing(?) women the right to vote. Ratification did not ensure full voting rights, though. Many women remained unable to vote long into the 20th century because of discriminatory state voting laws.

And yes, we’re referring to people of color. 106 years later, there still isn’t full parity. There are people out there––mostly men–– who’d like to rescind our rights again. Where’s Mrs. Pankhurst when we need her the most?

September 19, 2026 at 5pm ET

What does that word mean to you? Is differently-abled a better euphemism? With the rise of embracing neurodivergence, there’s an opportunity to acknowledge the various ways humans function. One person’s “disability” is another person’s superpower. Perspective matters. Let’s recognize each others’ gifts.

October 17, 2026 at 5pm ET

It’s a two-fer month! Queer Coming Out AND Halloween, and they go great together. Throw on that feather boa, some fabulous drag and let’s scare people. You know who they are. We’ll bring the candy, and not the cheap stuff.

November 21, 2026 at 5pm ET

That could mean so many things…have fun with it during retail hell month, which starts in August and never seems to end.

And no matter what anyone says, turkey sucks.

December 19, 2026 at 5pm ET

This is one of Nan’s favorite subjects. What does it mean to you? What do you think of when you hear that word? Is it about shopping, feeding the hungry, paying it forward? How do we approach the world around us? Do we come from a place of bounty? Or scarcity and fear?

My Body, My Rules: The Show Replay!

Nan Tepper — Sat, 17 Jan 2026 12:03:00 GMT

We have decided to change the format of the slam after some deep reflection. Please see the post that published today, Tuesday, Jan. 20, 2026.

READ ABOUT THE CHANGES

Hi All!

Yes, it was our maiden voyage and the storytellers were GREAT. Every single story was beautiful. I had to watch it today, because I missed things here and there, while fulfilling hosting duties There’s a lot on the backend to do while we’re live.

Anyone out there have Zoom Webinar co-host experience?
I’ve got a gig for you. DM me.

The voyage? Mostly smooth sailing, though once in a while we encountered rough seas. All will be worked out as we go forward. The feedback’s been fabulous. If you were there and want to share observations, please DM Nan. I want to hear all of it so we can make this as good as it can be.

For those of you who had trouble accessing the webinar, you’ll be able to see the show right here. For this first post of this first show, there’s no paywall. I want you to see what it’s all about, and then if you want to tell a story, or sign on to support this project as a paid subscriber, you’ll have more info. 2 months in, WBTYS is on its way to being a Substack Bestseller. We have you to thank for that, you began backing us before our first show!

I’m verklempt, simply verklempt.

Eileen and I are storytellers, too. We won’t compete the slams, but we will tell stories. Eileen opened the show, and I bookended before our audience voted for the winner.

She did great. I didn’t do as well, making lots mistakes, going over 4 minutes, and stumbling around. Just goes to prove, even experienced storytellers have off days.

I took the liberty of recording my story again, because I’m vain, and embarrassed, and kind of in charge of this thing we’re doing. Let’s just call it a perk…or privilege?

I’ll be sharing the messy one in a separate post. I promise!

And now, without further nan-ado, the stories.

The premiere show of Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!

Oh, and as expected, Slamone was a no-show. But she did sign the winner’s check, before she ditched us.

My Body, My Rules.

Eileen was the opening act.

The Storytellers:

If you love a particular story or all of them, and want to find out more about each writer, or subscribe to their stack, click the button under their bios.

The Armchair Journalist

Going Solo at the End of the World

Marya Hornbacher took first place, received the check from Slamone, and spent it all ($100) on one pack of cigs. Yeah, that’s how far our money goes these days.

Smoke ‘em up, Marya!

And Nan told the last story of the slam, and then she had a little private cry. Relief, mostly that it went well, but was laser-point focused on doing a blow-by-blow inventory of herself, where she fell short, and where improvements will be made. Let’s just chalk it up to perfectionist fretting that needs to be taken to a 12-step meeting, pronto!

You can attend any slam live (12 of ‘em) if you reserve early, or in replay by becoming an annual paid subscriber because the replays will be for paid subscribers only.
You’ll get 2 shows for free and support this project at a time when building community is essential to our well-being as feminists and women everywhere.
We’re speaking up, we’re speaking out, and we need you to help us do that!

Please comment below and give generous shout-outs to all the storytellers for their wonderful courage and powerful tales! They took a chance and graced us with their brilliance.

Our next show is February 21, 2026 on Zoom. The theme is The Love Boat. That should be fun! Stay tuned for more details.

Merde! Quel dommage!

Slamone de Beauvoir — Tue, 06 Jan 2026 19:32:09 GMT

They left MOI in charge, and look what happened!

I know not of these silly computer things.

The post will be sent out encore tomorrow, with the new 10th storyteller revealed.

YIKES!

I wish I could suck them all back…but c’est impossible!

PS. Please don’t mention it to those nasty trollops, Nan and Eileen. They want me to “peek up de slack!” Hmmmmph.

They’re lucky to have my famous feminist name attached to this seely, seely project.

Buy a ticket!

My Body, My Rules

Nan Tepper — Tue, 06 Jan 2026 18:59:38 GMT

My two-year anniversary on the platform is on January 17, 2026!

What better way to celebrate than to launch my dream with all of you? I can’t think of one. Will there be cake? Sure, but it’s imaginary, virtual cake, so you’ll be able to have your favorite kind. That way, no one’s disappointed!

I encourage you to take a look, buy a ticket and check out the first slam or take a leap of faith and become a paid subscriber. If my stories have made you happy, made you think, or contributed to your life in other ways, you’ll have even more fun at the slam, because it won’t just be me. There’s so much talent in this first line-up, you’ll be blown away. Don’t miss it, even if you can’t make it on the date.

Because the event will be available after the show, if you’re a paid subscriber.

The theme is an important one: My Body, My Rules. It’s all about our bodily autonomy, which as women, especially in the US, we’re losing as each day goes by.

Now is the time to be activists. To speak out, to say our piece, and to support one another in any way we can.

I hope you’ll come, I hope you’ll watch, I hope you’ll want to see more.

In 10 days, we’ll be officially launching Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! with our first show and our first lineup of fabulous writers. If you’re curious, come see the show. Tickets are limited, it’s an intimate affair!

If you can’t make it, you can always see the replay later.*

This is our first story slam ever at Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam!

Will it be a happy new year? Gee, we hope so.

We’re doing things here to contribute to the joy, but also to speak our outrage.

It’s time for us to get down to business. The business of being free to determine what we do with our own bodies and what gets DONE to our bodies, before that right was so jarringly stolen from us. Our bodies belong to us. Only we can say how they’re treated. That’s the theme of our slam this month.

What do you think?

Come see 10 storytellers do their thing. ~~We just lost our tenth, anyone want to step in?~~ stepped in, thanks Mel!

1 story. 4 minutes. Zero dicks. This ain’t no open mic!

Our first show is January 17, 2026 at 5pm ET, our room has limited seating, so if you want to check this out, now’s the time to secure your spot. You can become paid subscriber or buy a ticket.

If you choose to become a paid subscriber you’ll get more:

First dibs for live show
Access to all shows going forward
After-show posts which will include videos of all the stories.

Buy Tickets!

Find out more

And now, meet our storytellers. These writers have stepped up, excited to support the stack and tell their stories. You can find out more about each of them by clicking their pink buttons.

Going Solo at the End of the World

The Armchair Journalist

Can't SINK This Rainbow

Individual tickets are $12 if you’re a guy, and $10 for everyone else…it’s that pesky wage gap thing. We call it our SIRcharge. We have a lot of recouping to do!

Buy Tickets!

You can attend any slam live (12 of ‘em) if you reserve early, or in replay by becoming an annual paid subscriber because the replays will be for paid subscribers only.
You’ll be getting 2 shows for free and supporting this project at a time when building community is essential to our well-being. We’re speaking up, we’re speaking out, and we need your help to do that.