“So you see, saving the world is an innocent matter,” Molly thought to herself. “Let’s leave it in the hands of the hungry children.”


Raluca Comanelea is a woman writer from Brasov, Romania, dreaming, creating words, and teaching from Las Vegas, Nevada. She paints the surrounding world in fiction and creative nonfiction colors. Her work centers on the human drama lived behind the closed doors of a dominant culture, one which pulls the average man into its vortex with an intensity hard to contain.

Raluca’s fiction has been featured in STORGY Magazine, Reflex Fiction, Toho Journal, Twist and Twain Magazine, Secret Attic, and Little Somethings Press, among other literary venues. Raluca’s fiction chapbook, The Art of Surviving in a Glass of Water, was a finalist for Newfound Prose Prize 2021. This same manuscript has been long listed for C & R Press Summer Tide Pool 2020 Chapbook Awards and for Thirty West Publishing House’s Wavelengths Chapbook Contest 2022. Raluca has also been awarded a finalist prize for her collection of flash stories celebrating women, A General History of the Feminine Brain, by Eyelands Book Awards 2022.

Raluca’s academic work, centering on American drama and theater, has been featured in Popular Culture Review and in The Rocky Mountain Review of Language and Literature. She is an active participant in RMMLA’s conferences, acting as chair and presenter for various literary or creative panels.

 She holds an MA in Literary Studies (awarded in 2019) from University of Nevada, Las Vegas. She has been awarded an entry scholarship to The Naslund-Mann Graduate School of Writing’s MFA program for the Spring of 2023.

Find Raluca on Twitter (@RComanelea),  on Facebook (Raluca Comanelea) and on Instagram.

Raluca Comanelea


With a fountain pen by my side, I sketch recollections, scraps of fleeting life episodes which provoke tiny revelations. A story is that big! A deep world resting at the fingertips of the reader.

About me

I am a woman born in Romania, a writer residing in Las Vegas, but also a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, and a stranger. I am all these, and more. At times, I am the best I can be. Other times, I am not. But writing has empowered me to become everything I ever dreamed to be, in single shooting moments.

The surrounding world we inhabit is a stage, and I believe we should reenact as many roles as we can in the course of our lifetime, so that we gain intimate knowledge of ourselves. With multiple layers of our personalities peeled off, human drama moves from the realm of the theatrical to flesh-and-blood exposition.

I am often remembered in a gipsy-style blouse, a faded-red skirt, a pair of vintage boots on my feet, wearing my hair clips as a work of art, always holding on to that fountain pen and notebook purchased by a lost friend from the streets of Camden Town.

I am an eternal lover of freshly brewed loose-leaf teas, of strangers and dialogues blooming in the month of July, of pets and farm animals, of yoga, of trial and error. The smell of rare books brings my mother’s scent back into my nostrils.

At times, I shed tears at the thought of how many ants my tiny feet have squashed through the years. How misunderstood we all are in our daily actions! But universal hope washes our collective guilt off. I believe in a lot of things. I believe in colors, in healing, in home, in children, in books, in cats, in the smooth and subtle power of a fountain pen on white paper. I believe in you, my dear reader and most intimate friend through this journey of Creation.

The whole universe nests in my heart. And in yours.


Literary Reviews

 Translations & Editing Work

Events and Awards


Push, Woman!

A woman’s push is the supreme act of creation. Patriarchy has attempted since time immemorial to debilitate the fascinating power of this push which belongs entirely to the feminine realm.…

The Other

We live in a constant state of fear and pointing fingers while the regime lives its most intense orgasm of all times. We find ourselves in a state of constant…

A most graceful exit for Blanche

She is alive. They tried to bury her but she is alive. She doesn’t want to be buried. Not the way they want her to. Moon rays shoot through her window and she waits. She waits…

Everything Went Dark

I Then I Saw Her It is not the Darkness which brought me to the roadside sandwich joint, But my sense of humor. Maybe my future starts right now, said…

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My Contacts

I am always grateful for a question, a comment, a critique, or an applause. Celebrate me or demonize me, but open your arms in a sweet embrace. Don’t shut the door.

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