Greg Wrenn

Jun 21, 2024 | huffpost.com | Greg Wrenn

On lockdown in the Andes without Grindr, I cooked, wrote and slept too much. Several mornings a week, double-masked, I was allowed to leave my mud-brick cottage to go to the market for eggs and purple potatoes. And I began FaceTiming with Tony. A self-described gay virgin, he was a butch dreamboat who conducted endangered species surveys for a living. Several months earlier, we matched on Tinder while I was visiting friends in my hometown in Florida.

Apr 8, 2024 | largeheartedboy.com | Greg Wrenn

In the Book Notes series, authors create and discuss a music playlist that relates in some way to their recently published book. Previous contributors include Jesmyn Ward, Lauren Groff, Bret Easton Ellis, Celeste Ng, T.C. Boyle, Dana Spiotta, Amy Bloom, Aimee Bender, Roxane Gay, and many others. Greg Wrenn’s Mothership is a powerful and unforgettable memoir of healing, both global and personal.

Mar 27, 2024 | lithub.com | Greg Wrenn

In my ayahuasca eco-memoir Mothership, I enjoy playing hopscotch along an often-overlooked spectrum, with autobiographical memoir at one end and “objective” narrative nonfiction at the other. How personal and self-revealing do I want to be in my environmental reporting? How much do I want to nerd out in my memoir? These are questions a nonfiction writer might ask herself as she pitches her nature-minded book and thinks about—heaven help us!—its marketability.

Mar 25, 2024 | writersdigest.com | Greg Wrenn |Carmen Machado |Sofia Samatar |Florence Williams

When I sat through my first life-saving ayahuasca ceremonies in Peru, there wasn’t just a puke bucket beside me. I also kept close a binder of research I’d printed out about the healing potential of psychedelics. (6 Types of Personal Essays for Writers to Try.)As traumatic memories surfaced in the hours-long medicine journeys, I sometimes felt for the articles in the darkness.

Mar 22, 2024 | therumpus.net | Greg Wrenn

Excerpted from Mothership: A Memoir of Wonder and Crisis by Greg Wrenn | Copyright © 2024 by Greg WrennReprinted by permission of Regalo PressIn the woods behind my Christian kindergarten, I once found a Miami Vice ball cap and proudly wore it home. Rushing me to the tub, my mother said I’d infest the whole house with bugs. “Miami Lice,” she shuddered. I also learned not to play rowdy with the pale girl whose mother baked cookies at Publix.