It took me nearly a year and a half to do it, but I’ve finally finished the first draft of my novel Here’s Waldo! The rewriting might end up taking just as long as the writing itself, but I don’t care. I’m happy. Advertisements Continue reading I’m finished!
So freaking grateful/happy/excited to see my work in Thrice Fiction’s August issue. I’ve never had one of my stories paired with an artist’s original work before, or seen something I’ve written in print, so I still feel like this is an elaborate Inception dream. But if you’re willing to bet the top will drop, you can dl a nifty-looking pdf here. Or, if you feel … Continue reading My first story in print!
Hey, people! Come read (or listen to) a story of mine that was published in decomP! You will receive one (1) exclusive digital high five for doing so. Continue reading New Story in decomP: It’ll Be Different for Everyone
Mile 5: It’s Chicago hot outside. “Chicago” is an adjective that trumps ones like “very” or “extremely.” You ride the trail with Phil anyway because he’s leaving for basic tomorrow and Mom says you have to. Little rivers of sweat flow out to sea from the banks of your stubbly armpits. Stubbly because when Phil showed you how to shave, you took it you were … Continue reading With No Hands
I sat on the stairs while my father pinned my mother’s wrists to the bed to stop her from slapping him. He had a store-bought card for some anniversary that he “had had all along,” but she wasn’t buying it. I remember there was a dartboard he got because he smoked a certain number of cigarettes. In the aquarium downstairs there was a fish called … Continue reading Spirals
With your hand above water, the bottle’s a spaceship leaving home with a crew of sand grain people who climbed aboard when the lip scraped bottom. When I open my eyes underwater I see only the shadow of you, like the you is implied somewhere else I can’t see. The stars are flashlights held by impossibly faraway children, shaking when they laugh. We swim like … Continue reading Whirling in a Bottle
Marly had a bed with shingles on it. Leftovers from the last storm. She collected the shingles in piles and called them sheaves. She had a habit of collecting sheaves in nothing but socks. Apocrypha and Abstractions just published one of my stories. Check it out! Continue reading As featured on Apocrypha and Abstractions: “Marly Marbles’ Shingles”