The Department of Make Believe

If you seek whimsy; if your house crest shines bright in a thousand shades of Bic-​pen ink; if you fear neither lava floor tiles nor sand in your boots, seek out Oakland’s Department of Make Believe!
I visited the brand-​spanking-​new and super-​cool space on December’s First Friday, and it was poppin’. A local band jammed on the pulpit-​turned-​stage; guests milled and chatted and sketched on huge slices of paper spread out on the tables; the organization’s founders buzzed and zipped around, offering plastic bubbles with paper slips inside, fortune-​cookie style — prompts to capture conversations with fellow make-​believers. (There were also enchiladas and rice and beans, but I don’t think that’s an always-​thing.)
The nonprofit takes cues from like-​minded writing centers like 826 and NaNoWriMo, but is by no means cookie-​cutter. With inspirational merchandise whose packaging is a meld of 1960s cereal boxes and high-​tech spy gear, an ACTUAL CHALKBOARD WALL that covers the entire east side of the ginormous writing room, and a sandbox populated by superheroes and smallish plastic animals, the atmosphere is of the «I’m-never-leaving» kind.
And that’s not even taking into account the stellar staff and what they do there. The org’s mission is to help Oaklandish youths unleash their creativity, and their aesthetic hits the nail on the head: whimsical, engaging, a little tongue-​in-​cheek, it’s sure to draw in scads of writers looking to express themselves through zany mediums like sassed-​up waiting room forms, collective collages, and story prompts popped out of gumball machines.
Basically: mount your steed/​your Huffy/​the 72M bus and GET THERE! (Appointments frowned upon and poked hard with a stick.)