erin bomboy's manifesto:

or my promise to readers

If you've read anything I've written, then thank you. Your time is precious. That you chose to spend it with my words is a high honor.

If you have given me money for my writing (by paying me to write, by buying one of my books, or by donating to The Dance Enthusiast, the non-profit digital dance magazine for which I work), then thank you, and thank you again. Money symbolizes value, and by deciding that my words have value, you have paid me the highest honor.

I can't promise you'll like everything or even anything I write. That it will be worthwhile. That it will be enjoyable. That it will be transformative.

I can promise you this: Your experience is important to me. I don’t want to waste your time nor your money.


I aim to write interesting things in interesting ways. I try to write as succinctly and vividly as possible. I attempt to write with immediacy and clarity and imagination — lots of the latter.

Two women in leotards and tights with words lie on their backs, their arms like swans

My writing falls into two categories: dance journalism and dance fiction. As a dance journalist, my goals are to get my facts straight, to evoke the visceral majesty of dance, and to report the nuanced and sometimes slippery experience of watching, reading, and talking about dance.


As a dance novelist, my goals are to present dance in a way that is revealing for its practitioners and relatable for its newbies. I'm also invested in telling the stories of women aged eighteen to forty, so I can explore the intersection of personal agency with societal mores — a particularly pitched juncture for many women.


I don't prize one form of dance over another as all are sublime and absurd in their own way. I don't value dark over light, tears over laughter, horror over wonder. I don't cherish one type of reader over another. Each time, I strive to write something unique and insightful since boredom and predictability are the enemies of creativity and curiosity.

As always, it is you who makes this possible. Words only quicken to life when read by another. Thank you for being the witness to my words.