Prosebuds (Issue 6: Dec. 2025)

Theme song 🎶 + Prosebuds Holiday Double Feature: Madeleine Mori + Megan Bagala 🎄

Note: 🎧 For accessibility, I provide a reading of every Prosebuds issue audiobook-style. Listen by clicking the play button on the above “Article Voiceover” tab.

Hey, ‘buds!

OK, so I had this fun little idea pop into my head that it would be wonderful to have our own Prosebuds theme song. I personally love theme songs and jingles and have a musical memory—so I sing them all the time (my close friends and family are all collectively rolling their eyes right now). I considered the catchy title song by Amy Miles on Amy Poehler’s Good Hang podcast and remembered Carol Burnett’s “I’m So Glad We Had This Time Together” closing song (written by her husband, Joe Hamilton) sung at the end of every episode of the The Carol Burnett Show—thanks, Nick at Nite/TV Land for the access as a kid—and I thought: why the hell can’t a Substack have its own theme!?

A black and white image of comedian Carol Burnett in a polka-dot bonnet and costume singing her closing theme song at the end of The Carol Burnett Show (1967-1978). Image courtesy of Wikipedia.com

That’s where the brilliant composer and songwriter Megan Bagala comes in (check out her full feature below as one of our prosebuds in this month’s special double feature)! You may recognize Megan as the writer of our Ghost Tour middle grade scripted podcast theme (“My Legacy”), which I’ve often said is legitimately one of my favorite parts of the whole show! Her song is incredibly catchy— I’ve listened to it so many times, and will definitely continue to do so. (You can hear Megan’s “My Legacy” at the top of every episode of Ghost Tour season one, available wherever you listen to your favorite podcasts.)

So, obviously, I thought Megan could be the perfect person to drum up a Prosebuds theme, and you can imagine my total joy when she was actually interested. So, that’s little-old-me singing on the recording of “Here in the Garden,” our fabulous new Prosebuds theme song (thanks for the encouragement, Megan—and for not making the key too difficult). The music and lyrics are all Megan Bagala original.

I’ll be including the tag from the theme in every issue from here on out—both in the audio recording for listeners, as well as a little delight dropped at the bottom of each issue for readers. Thank you, Megan, for this especially sweet holiday gift.

Happy holidays, Prosebuds! Wishing you abundant coziness—maybe even with a great book in your lap—as we slip into the winter season.

xCQ

---

CQ Serialized Fiction | Falling From the Inside: Chapter 6

Since there’s so much Prosebud goodness to enjoy in this month’s issue, I’ll keep it short and sweet with this chapter intro. We’re back in the thick of the present in this month’s installment. Time for the anticipated confrontation between Laura and Mark—let’s find out what he really knows. As always, if you need to catch up on the last five (!) chapters of the Falling from the Inside serialized story, you can access the archive here.

Beneath a blue sky, an image of an empty bench along the concrete waterfront path and field at the Fly in Audubon Park, New Orleans. (Credit: Rebecca Ann Photography from neworleans.com)

Chapter 6: Meeting Mark at the Fly

Laura’s SUV tossed against the waves of potholes into the shade of Audubon Park. She spotted Mark’s red truck and found a parking spot fairly easily at this time of day—before any kind of lunch crowd or the usual bands of late afternoon high schoolers roamed beyond the levee. It seemed strange to meet Mark here—at the Fly—but she understood he wanted anonymity, and in the wake of all the news, this place could afford them more privacy from watchful eyes and listening ears than their own home.

Despite her fears about what Mark might need to tell her, nostalgia glazed her vision as she stepped out of her SUV. Though relatively close to their house, she hadn’t been back to the Fly in years. She remembered she and Mark’s early days as a couple here, hours spent with each other along this peaceful stretch behind Audubon Zoo, picnicking between the cypress trees, walking along the path at the waterfront— “courting” sounded so archaic, but that’s exactly what it was. A simpler time. They’d met as teenagers then reconnected once she moved back to New Orleans after LSU—Mark, now a Tulane alum, had never left. She wished she could go back and warn herself—though what would she say exactly? Beyond the mess of the collapse, she had a perfectly acceptable life—a fine life by most anyone else’s standards certainly. Everything had come together in a way, almost too easily...

Laura found Mark in jeans and a t-shirt seated on a bench overlooking the water. He stared out at the still river with a contemplative expression on his face, worrying the monogrammed leather keychain “the boys” gifted him for Father’s Day last year between his fingers. By this point, the letter “G” for “Girot” in “MJG” nearly unrecognizable.

“Hey,” Laura said to him, and he scooted down the bench leaving her a space, though he barely looked up at her. The energy distinctively heavy. Even during their toughest moments, it wasn’t like him not to kiss her on the cheek in greeting.

“It’s a little wet,” Mark said about the bench, matter of fact. Despite the bright blue sky, Laura noticed a collection of small droplets. The rain must have passed over this part of town quickly.

For several moments, Laura and Mark both watched a cargo ship chug along in the distance. She found herself momentarily entranced by the ship’s wake, wondering if Mark would be the one to break the silence—but before long, her impatience got the best of her.

“Had you seen that video?”

“No, but…”

“But?”

“He spoke to me… he was concerned,” Mark said.

“And by ‘he’ I’m assuming you mean…”

“Yeah…”

“Shit,” Laura said.

“But he wasn’t in the building—on the site—when it…happened.”

“What do you mean? I saw the man’s ghost. He must have been in the build—”

“He got deported, Laura.” Mark said, through gritted teeth. “And God knows what…” His voice cracked. “God knows what happened to him…”

“I thought you were protecting him.” Laura said, quiet, as she folded her arms to her chest. “You said you would.”

Mark shook his head, incredulous. “It was out of my hands.”

“What do you mean, it was out of your hands? You run the site! It’s your company!”

“Our company, sweetheart,” Mark said with a huff. “And at this point, I’d be deluded to think that I have any real control over anything.”

Just then, a young mother passed with an infant in a stroller as a toddler in a cape bounded ahead of them. “Not so fast, Eli,” she called after him. Mark and Laura instinctively paused their conversation. With practiced Southern politeness, Mark offered a small wave and Laura a knowing smile to the stranger and her children. “They keep telling me they slow down!” Laura said, and the woman chuckled.

“…So, what happened?” Laura asked Mark once the woman strolled out of earshot. He still wouldn’t look her in the eyes, back to running his fingers along his leather keychain.

“Mondul got wind of things, and…let’s just say, he handled it.”

“And somehow no one thought to let me know about any of this!?” Laura erupted. “I’ve been asking you for days whether you knew anything and you’ve been playing dumb. Why? You say it’s our company, but you sure as hell aren’t acting like it.”

“I told you I didn’t want undocumented workers!” Mark hissed back. “I told you, and you insisted, and now look where we are.”

“Oh, great. Blame this on me. You and Romero both, Jesus…”

“I’m blaming this on both of us—on all of us! It’s worse than I thought. I thought maybe, I don’t know what I thought… but shit. We’ve got blood on our hands, Laura…I don’t know how the hell we recover from something like this. Maybe we don’t. Maybe we shut down the company for good. Maybe I never work in construction again. Maybe that’s the best thing…”

“I don’t think that’s the best thing…” Laura laid her hand on his thigh, then turned her head back to the empty field behind them to be sure they were truly alone.

“You don’t?”

“No.” She let out a sigh and placed her hands in her own lap. “Mistakes happen. Horrible mistakes happen…” Her eyes shifted along the riverbank before she turned to Mark fully. “What does your best friend Mondul have to say about it?”

“He’s been calling me nonstop since the news story broke. I haven’t answered…I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Let’s call him back,” Laura said, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Together.”

---

🎄 PROSEBUDS HOLIDAY DOUBLE FEATURE 🎄

Featured Prosebud | Madeleine Mori

During a golden evening in August—my first night out post top surgery, as a matter of fact—I had the opportunity to hear Maddie read a selection of her poetry and lyric essay at Brad Vogel’s “Dog Days of Summer” event at the Established Gallery on the edge of Prospect Heights, Brooklyn. There among Jos Prol’s intricate driftwood sculptures, I found myself in tears over Maddie’s lush poetic food descriptions. (Tables of Contents, if you’re reading or listening, you need to feature this incredible writer!) Long story short, I marched right up to Maddie, whom I’ve been lucky to get to know and hear read through my wonderful wife Sarah M. Sala’s Office Hours Poetry Workshop, and asked her to join the Prosebuds fold. I’m so glad she said yes! I hope you’ll go on a deep dive through Mori’s website and explore her work there—I’m certain you’ll be as swept away as I am.

A biracial Asian woman with cropped blonde hair wearing a kelly green sweater and tiered black blue orange and yellow earrings, standing against a red brick wall. Photo by Alexi Maschas (2021).

Madeleine Mori is a Japanese American writer, born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area. Recent poems and essays have appeared in American Chordata, The Margins, Pigeon Pages, and Pleiades Magazine. She is the Assistant Director of the MFA in Writing at Sarah Lawrence College, where she is the faculty advisor to Lumina Journal. She is at work on a debut poetry collection and a collection of personal essays.

(ROSE) What’s something that’s going particularly great with your writing and/or writing process right now?

MM: After several years of slow poetry writing, generating maybe three or four poems a year I liked and of those maybe only one or two I was truly proud of, I’m very happy to be in a loving relationship with poetry again! I hit a bad depressive point this past summer in which I realized I had left behind a regular writing practice for myself that didn’t involve my friends asking to see work or the occasional solicitation from a journal or magazine. Without my writing group, I may have stopped writing altogether over the past few years. And while I feel extremely blessed to have their brilliance, companionship, and collaboration in my life, it’s great to feel like I’ve retrained my muscles to be able to read widely, with intellectual and artistic pressure, not just for pleasure, and to push through those uncomfortable or straight up bad first drafts and ideas, to approach my mind with grace and curiosity again. I’ve been sending poems out to journals for the first time in a while and also sending my debut poetry manuscript out to contests and open reading periods again!

(THORN) What’s something that’s especially shitty about your writing and/or writing process right now?

MM: On the flip side, I am also working on a book of lyric essays, which is in that illusive stage where the concept of the book is kind of like a crucible full of molten material and combustible sparks. When I talk about it to people, it’s difficult to explain what it will all amount to, in terms of an elevator pitch or jacket copy, but my excitement is palpable and I think others can see its potential too. I’m such a slow writer in general, whether I feel active in a practice or not, and I also find it difficult to move between poetry and prose projects in the same time period. I’m writing poems now and anticipating getting back to the prose in the next few months. I’ve been looking to apply for writing residencies next year to primarily work on the essays, but I don’t have enough pages produced on my own time for some of the work sample components of the applications. I think finding the focus and the time in your regular flow of life to get a project off the ground enough to look convincing enough for funding and other helpful opportunities is one of the hardest parts of being a writer with a day job. You have to move fast enough with that molten material before it cools and you lose interest.

(STEM) Name a writer/artist/work that changed your life or sustains you.

MM: I was born and raised in Northern California and in college my writing mentor introduced me to the Fresno poet Larry Levis. I was studying for a degree in enology (the science behind winemaking) and cheating on those classes with my secret love: creative writing. Levis’ family owned a vineyard and his poems incorporating the vines and the vineyard workers, their passions and struggles, were so thrilling and instructive to me, laying a path forward in which I could have a relationship to the land and to physical labor while still having the mind and heart of a poet (check out “Picking Grapes in an Abandoned Vineyard“). Later in graduate school my teacher Catherine Barnett had our class read his poem “The Cry” and in hearing it read aloud it felt like some deep buried, child-wound pain was being exorcised from my body. Levis has such a unique voice and vision to his narratives; he has such a gift for pushing image and syntax beyond your initial and then subsequent expectations. I will never stop studying his poems, often over candlelight and a beer with my dearest poet friends.

A black and white photo of American poet and teacher Larry Levis, a White man in a leather jacket with a thick mustache and his fist to his chin. There is a motorcycle to his right and a soulful-eyed black lab on the other. (Photo courtesy of IMDB.)

---

Featured Prosebud + Theme Song Writer | Megan Bagala

Megan Bagala is a producer, writer, and songwriter. Her work has been heard across podcasts and audio series from Gimlet Media, Marvel, Wondery, Mattel, Hatch, PBS KIDS, Tonies, and more. Whether producing a series, composing theme music, sound designing a podcast, or writing a script, she creates work that sparks joy and curiosity in young audiences.

Producer, writer, and songwriter Megan Bagala is a brunette woman with fair skin and brown eyes. She is smiling and wearing a blue shirt against a pale pink backdrop. Headshot by Chris Macke.

(ROSE) What’s something that’s going particularly great with your writing and/or writing process right now?

MB: Musically, I’ve been collaborating a lot recently with my husband, Marcus Bagala, who is an incredible composer. The two of us have teamed up on various musical projects for a long time. It’s even how we met, waaaay back in college. But while we’ve worked together professionally on projects on and off, we now have a ton of music we’re writing together, and we’re also currently working on some script and sound design projects, too! Being married for almost 10 years, the collaborative shorthand we have is really something special, and I feel inspired every day to be able to work with someone as talented as he is. Writing can be such a lonely activity, and having a collaborator who gets just as excited about the things you do is such a gift.

(THORN) What’s something that’s especially shitty about your writing and/or writing process right now?

MB: I mostly make things for kids and their grown ups. And the work I like to make is often filled with hope, and empowers young listeners with the tools they may need to make the world a better place. And right now, the world feels especially dark and hopeless. It’s hard not to feel that consume you, or feel like you’re just screaming into the void.

(STEM) Name a writer/artist/work that changed your life or sustains you.

MB: Alanis Morissette. She was my first concert at 8 years old (thanks, Mom and Dad!), and her music and lyrics have had a profound impact on my style, my lyric writing, the music I gravitate toward.... everything!

Alanis Morisette’s Jagged Little Pill iconic multi-colored—blue, green, red—album cover featuring her face twice in profile, courtesy of Wikipedia.