You have been carrying the same notebook for three years. You fill it on the bus, at the laundromat, in the fifteen minutes between when your kid falls asleep and when you do, and you have never read a line of it out loud to another human being. This festival was built by people who did exactly that and then stopped. Five days of free events scattered through the neighborhood's bars, restaurants, and parks, made by writers who live in Los Feliz for writers who live in Los Feliz. An opening party at Big Bar Alcove. A personal essay workshop at Fred 62. A poetry night where somebody will tell you in complete earnest that poets are the new pop stars, and you will half believe them. A Saturday morning workshop on taste and scent at Tabula Rasa, an anti-racist writing circle at Barnsdall, a local POC voices panel, a writer and activist mixer. And a PorchFest open mic where you finally read the thing you wrote on the bus. All of it free. Go read it out loud.