Meet Franceasca Seiden

We were lucky to catch up with Franceasca Seiden recently and have shared our conversation below.

Franceasca, so excited to have you with us today. So much we can chat about, but one of the questions we are most interested in is how you have managed to keep your creativity alive.

Creativity, for me, is a form of survival, a ritual disguised as routine. It’s devotion dressed as curiosity. I keep it alive by feeding it truth, not trends; by treating it like a conversation between spirit, art, and the everyday. Some days it’s journaling before dawn; some days it’s automatic writing when the words start whispering first. Other days it’s through the lens of my camera, framing light like an invocation.

I’ve learned that creativity doesn’t die when you’re exhausted; it dies when you stop meaning it. So I’ve built systems of devotion; early mornings with silence, writing like exorcism, and a deep respect for stillness.

I stay inspired by studying artists across every medium—filmmakers, photographers, painters, animators—each one reminding me that creativity has infinite dialects. Their work reignites my own and keeps me from slipping into repetition or perfectionism, reminding me that inspiration isn’t something you chase; it’s something you court through attention.

My Substack, Blood, Bone & Ghosts, became the hearth where all of this lives, a living memoir unfolding in real time, where grief becomes art and art becomes evolution. It’s where I translate experience into story, and story into connection; where reflection meets reinvention.

Keeping creativity alive isn’t about waiting for lightning; it’s about tending the fire. Showing up daily, even when the spark feels faint, and trusting that the act of creation will always call itself back to life. Every piece I publish on Blood, Bone & Ghosts, whether an essay, a film note, or a fragment, is a reminder that art sustains itself when you give it somewhere to breathe. That exchange with readers fuels the next chapter, keeping the flame alive and growing brighter.

Great, so let’s take a few minutes and cover your story. What should folks know about you and what you do?

I’m a multimedia producer, writer, and filmmaker drawn to the spaces where truth becomes cinematic. My current project, Blood, Bone & Ghosts, is a living memoir on Substack; a body of essays, short stories, and visuals exploring love, grief, and transformation through an artistic lens.

Alongside the essays, I’ve been writing a series of short stories; starting with The Night We Locked Eyes and About a Girl. Each one captures a different chapter of intimacy and self-revelation, stories about the men who came before the memoir itself. They stand on their own but together trace the emotional terrain that ultimately shaped my creative voice.
The work continues to expand through photography, film, and voice recordings, building toward a complete narrative universe. What excites me most is that Blood, Bone & Ghosts exists in real time—it evolves with its readers, supported by a growing community that values slow art and authentic storytelling.

This project isn’t just about storytelling; it’s about transmutation—turning lived experience into shared meaning. Each piece, whether written or visual, becomes a bridge between worlds: the personal and the collective, the intimate and the cinematic.
Every subscription helps sustain that rhythm, allowing the work to keep unfolding, alive and unfiltered. It’s more than a publication; it’s an exchange between artist and audience, a shared act of creation that keeps the fire burning on both sides of the page.

I am still running my creative businesses : Alchemystic Arts x LAiCREATIVES as well as wellness : Sexual Alchemy Healing Arts. Working with multimedia artists, producing events and using esoteric healing modalities to help turn trauma into power.

If you had to pick three qualities that are most important to develop, which three would you say matter most?

Looking back, the three qualities that shaped my path most are discernment, creative discipline, and emotional intelligence.

Discernment taught me that saying no is an art form. In film and writing, not every story deserves the screen or the page. You learn to trust what belongs to you and what doesn’t—to protect the integrity of your vision, even when it means walking away from easy opportunities. Not every project, person, or opportunity deserves your energy. The sooner you learn what truly aligns with your purpose, the more powerful your work becomes.

Creative discipline reminded me that inspiration doesn’t owe us anything. You have to meet it halfway—through consistency, structure, and reverence for the process. The muse shows up more often when she knows you’re already working. Whether I’m editing footage, writing an essay, or framing a shot, routine became my ritual, the scaffolding that lets creativity breathe.
Emotional intelligence has been the quiet architect of everything. Art demands honesty, but honesty requires awareness of self, of others, and of timing. Knowing when to pause, listen, or surrender can transform both the work and the creator. Storytelling demands empathy. It’s knowing how to hold complexity without collapsing under it—on set, on the page, or in life. Art asks us to feel deeply, but also to translate those feelings with clarity and care.

For anyone at the beginning of their journey: protect your energy like it’s gold. Keep showing up even when no one’s watching. Learn the difference between creating for attention and creating for connection. And remember, talent starts the fire, but integrity keeps it burning.

As we end our chat, is there a book you can leave people with that’s been meaningful to you and your development?

“I agreed that what really matters is what you like, not what you are like… Books, records, films – these things matter. Call me shallow but it’s the fuckin’ truth, and by this measure, I was having one of the best dates of my life.” — Rob Gordon, High Fidelity (Film adaptation based on the novel by Nick Hornby)

“What really matters is what you like, not what you are like.” — High Fidelity (Nick Hornby)

Oh, you just opened a can of worms.

One word. Disruptors.

I’ve never been shaped by a single book, film, or sound. I was molded by collisions—pop, sub, and counterculture all speaking in their own dialects. My education came from the edges: midnight movies that rewired my sense of narrative, punk and hip-hop that told inconvenient truths, and the pulse of electro and house that stitched emotion into rhythm. Lyrics were my first literature—scribbled in notebooks, found inside album sleeves, cassette liners, and CD booklets.

What excites me most is the space where boundaries dissolve and meaning finds motion. My current reading reflects that tension: Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking pulls me into the anatomy of grief; Robert Greene’s The 48 Laws of Power maps strategy and survival; Steven Pressfield’s The War of Art reminds me to face resistance like a ritual; while Sun Tzu’s The Art of War and Beatrice Chestnut’s The Enneagram Guide to Waking Up help refine not just my work, but the person behind it.

The artists who’ve shaped me—writers, photographers, musicians, filmmakers, and designers—share one trait: they’re mavericks. They redefined their mediums instead of conforming to them. I found mentorship in the pages of Jim Carroll, Elizabeth Wurtzel, Lewis Carroll, David Wojnarowicz, Anaïs Nin, J.D. Salinger, Paulo Coelho, Judy Blume, Francine Pascal, Ethan Hawke, Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Elie Wiesel, and Nick Hornby.

Photographers like Nan Goldin, Diane Arbus, Brassaï, Robert Mapplethorpe, and Larry Clark taught me rebellion through their unflinching portraits of humanity—crossing social boundaries to reveal the tenderness beneath shock. They showed me that real creation requires risk: to step outside expectation, to sit inside contradiction, to find beauty in the uncomfortable.

Dancers and choreographers like Isadora Duncan, Mikhail Baryshnikov, Fred Astaire, Janet Jackson, Rosie Perez, Adolfo “Shabba-Doo” Quiñones, and Michael “Boogaloo Shrimp” Chambers (Ozone and Turbo in Breakin’) reshaped how I see movement. Jeffrey Hornaday, choreographer of Flashdance, bridged the gap between commercial dance and sensual expression on film. Duncan’s radical grace, Baryshnikov’s precision, Astaire’s elegance, Jackson’s cinematic choreography, and Perez’s kinetic fire all left their mark. Their movements weren’t choreography alone—they were language, rebellion, and invitation.

Fashion designers like Vivienne Westwood, Jean-Paul Gaultier, Halston, and Diane von Furstenberg taught me that style is another form of authorship. Art and fashion have never been separate for me—they’re both ways of speaking without apology, both rebellion and revelation stitched in fabric.

Musicians, bands, and producers like Arthur Baker, Rick Rubin, The Ramones, Public Enemy, A Tribe Called Quest, Madonna, Ella Fitzgerald, Rage Against the Machine, Sam Cooke, Prince, The Buzzcocks, David Bowie, The Cure, Ani DiFranco, Ministry, P.J. Harvey, Joy Division / New Order, Deee-Lite, The Specials, Digable Planets, Grace Jones, Steel Pulse, Peaches, The Misfits, Frank Sinatra, Blondie, Depeche Mode, Jane’s Addiction, Devo, The Yeah Yeah Yeah’s, Beastie Boys, and Bob Marley taught me what it truly means to be revolutionary — the courage to challenge convention and move against the current.

Filmmakers like Paul Thomas Anderson, Oliver Stone, John Hughes, Martin Scorsese, Allison Anders, Quentin Tarantino, David Cronenberg, Steven Soderbergh, Woody Allen, Darren Aronofsky, Alejandro Jodorowsky, Kenneth Anger, Amy Heckerling, Wes Craven, Nancy Meyers, Bernardo Bertolucci, Francis Ford Coppola, the Coen Brothers, Richard Linklater, Gus Van Sant, Jim Jarmusch, David Lynch, Richard Brooks, Sofia Coppola, Spike Lee, Spike Jonze, Jane Campion, and Cameron Crowe shaped how I see the world and how I tell stories — each one a maverick in their own right, creating work once dismissed as commercially unviable yet destined to redefine culture.

Art was never designed to pacify—it was born to provoke, to unsettle, to rewire the senses. What I’ve learned from every ingenou from every visionary who refused to fold, is that creation is an act of resistance. It isn’t about polish or precision—it’s about the audacity to tell the truth in a world built on illusion. Art is the mirror and the weapon, and both demand bravery.

Everything I create, whether in Blood, Bone & Ghosts, in film, or on the page—exists in dialogue with those who came before me: the renegades, the visionaries, the ones who refused to color within the lines. Their work fuels mine and reminds me that art isn’t merely expression—it’s evolution in motion.

Contact Info:

• Other: WEB (by importance) (all the hyperlinks work btw)

  1. BloodBoneAndGhosts
  https://bloodboneandghosts.substack.com
  2. LAiCREATIVES
  https://web.archive.org/web/20181019135811/http://laicreatives.com/los-angeles-independent-thinkers-l-a-i-t-about/
  3. SexualAlchemyHealingArts
  https://sexualalchemyhealingarts.com
  4. Personal
  https://franceasca.wordpress.com/

  Podcast : (these are all working links – maybe just show the link preview because I noticed it all lead to same podcast and apple was blank this time it won’t be. Thank you )

  Sex, Magick And Dessert
  1. Apple
  
  2. Spotify
  
  3. iHeartRadio
  

  Social Media

  Linkedin :
  https://www.linkedin.com/in/franceascaseiden/

  Instagram: (also Threads but they are linked through IG)
  https://www.instagram.com/franceascaseiden/
  https://www.instagram.com/bloodboneandghosts/
  https://www.instagram.com/alchemystic_arts/

  Tik Tok :

  @franceasca_

  X :
  https://x.com/franceasca
  https://x.com/Lai_Creatives

  Tumblr:
  http://franceasca.tumblr.com

  BlueSky:
  https://bsky.app/profile/franceasca.bsky.social

  Facebook Page: (*can’t login but it lives*)

  Alchemystic Arts
  https://www.facebook.com/people/Alchemystic-Arts/61557922645890/#

Image Credits

BXW DTLA loft floor Daniel J Sliwa