Check Out Marley Powell’s Story

Today we’d like to introduce you to Marley Powell.

Hi Marley, it’s an honor to have you on the platform. Thanks for taking the time to share your story with us – to start maybe you can share some of your backstory with our readers?
My path has never been linear, and I can’t say that’s been intentional. A positive spin on my relationship to school and various jobs I held would be that I’d never felt drawn to the traditional “school-to-career” pipeline. Early on felt more like a series of switchbacks, and setbacks, instead of a straight line. At first it really was not an intentional decision. There was not much intentionality in my chaotic and uneven first steps, but those detours have been the most formative part of my development as a writer and researcher. Working outside the expected lanes exposed me to people, places, and ideas I never would have found if I had followed a more conventional route.

A patchwork of experiences became the foundation of my expression. A perspective shaped less by institutions and more by curiosity, and lived experience. For a while I thought that the patchwork approach to things was a detriment and made me less serious, but came to see that it was the opposite. I felt like I was so outside of a world that didn’t pull me in. In the end I saw that it gave me a wider perspective on the world that I was interested in exploring. Today, that nonlinear journey is exactly what fuels my work and allows me to see stories in unexpected places and to approach research with a kind of openness and adaptability that is important to see how a patchwork of different things shapes the world around us.

Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
I dropped out of college because I couldn’t pretend I knew where I was heading, and that choice sent me into a long stretch of uncertainty. I worked in all kinds of environments from arts spaces, kitchens and political offices, trying to figure out where I fit. None felt like home.

Being a late bloomer with success in writing came from similar uncertainty. There were long stretches when life pulled me from pursuing it professionally. Either a need for paid work or personal storms carried me away from it, but in those moments creativity changed shape. Sometimes it became an escape, sometimes a way to make sense of the world, sometimes a quiet reminder that something inside me still needed going. The hardest part has always been finding the time and space where that inner work can breathe. Eventually I learned that the answer wasn’t to force creativity into my life but to let my life fold into it.

I also learned that paid work and purposeful work don’t always overlap. Pay kept my life afloat, but purpose is what kept me moving: long nights of research that became a podcast, or early sketches that grew into a novel. Even when it felt like a quiet act with no clear outcome, the digging in gave me a purpose. Creativity is something that demands upkeep and attention to maintain its purpose in your life. Because of that artists can often feel like it’s a burden to them. But on the other hand, it’s that part of it that’s like finding faith, a belief that if I nurture it, it will provide meaning and direction. For me, the struggle has lived in that ongoing tension between practicality and art. Creativity is strange because it can feel like baggage if you’re not tending to it, yet like faith when you do. It needs upkeep, not for the sake of productivity but to maintain its place and a purpose in your life. I did not expect my podcast to evolve into interest around a book. My interest in the project grew around the stories I was unearthing and my fascination with them is what ultimately gained outside interest. Those stories came from long nights of insomnia during COVID. You can’t expect a destination, but have to just embrace what is driving you in the moment.

Thanks – so what else should our readers know about your work and what you’re currently focused on?
I’ve been writing for years. For years it felt like twiddling my thumbs. I felt like I was waiting for something outside myself to recognize talent or steady dedication. While only recently has that begun attracting more attention, I used to feel like I was waiting for some external sign that I belonged and would be recognized as an artist. As persistence started to gather attention, I’ve learned that attention alone isn’t a modicum of success.

The work I make sets me apart because it comes from a place of purpose rather than performance. Whether I’m writing fiction or non-fiction, research and curiosity-driven exploration expand the worlds I create. After my mother died, I found myself looking backward, trying to understand the threads of her story that were left. That search naturally seeped into the work I made. Although I broke from writing after her death from a deep sense of loss, that emptiness led to a sense of being unmoored and I thought that maybe the creative spirit had left me entirely.

My emotional center comes from trying to make sense of a world that feels both varied and fragmented. Without being centered I just spiraled. Writing helps me gather those pieces; grief, curiosity, memory and shape them into something coherent. My new novel has allowed me to step into research about Los Angeles and find a story about the City that has given me the chance to frame a new understanding of the place I was born and raised. In many ways, my stories are my way of reaching toward understanding, because the answers remain just out of view.

Alright so before we go can you talk to us a bit about how people can work with you, collaborate with you or support you?
I catalogue my interviews and published work on my website. I am always looking to find new stories and interesting books. I try to keep a list of what I am reading, watching and listening to, would always love new avenues and roads to find out about.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.marleypowell.net