originally published in The Slag Review More trees in the mountains went up, and the firelight was yellower than the day before. He called it the color of dry sand. The sun reddened, as if not in anger, but in grief. Who wouldn’t mourn? Homes lost,...
originally published in Writer's Digest We’ve all heard it said that readers have increasingly short attention spans. Spending time with a print medium isn’t as engaging as watching things move or interacting with content on a screen. Does this mean that we should write stories that...
originally published in Women Writers, Women's Books Literary fiction is a strange, yet compelling animal. So much emphasis on language, rhythm, imagery. And let’s not forget character. Some novels are all about the character and the mad world behind her eyes. When I started writing fiction, my...
originally published in New Pop Lit It was where movies stars used to go and rest up, be pampered, and consider the next script their agents had just sent over. A series of modest bungalows set around a beautiful turquoise pool. A pleasant young man in...
originally published in The Useless Degree & later included in the story collection, By The Wayside, published by Unsolicited Press Fiona was a mouse. Everyone said so. As a child she’d been bookish, lonely, with little to contribute conversation-wise. Her brother, Finn, was outgoing, popular, now the...
originally published in Issue 1 of Crow Literary Journal, Summer 2018 EARTH'S LOVE earth’s love is stronger than sky’s paling the starlight, blanking the moon damp soil, arched ferns, and the mossed limbs of nurse logs swallow the gears of thought branches drip from last night’s rain all is wet and soft living...
My second book, Our Love Could Light The World, is a collection of linked stories about the Dugan family in the fictional town of Dunston, New York. The Dugans are made up of the parents, Potter and Lavinia, and their five children. Potter drinks and can’t...
Originally published on Medium by Unsolicited Press My first attempts on the page were carefully wrought renditions of a single scene, expression, item, or thought. My focus was tight, keen, and probably overly analytical. After describing something in minute detail, the challenge was always to locate...
originally published in Spartan, and later included in the story collection, By The Wayside (Unsolicited Press, 2017) My mother loved artichokes. She trimmed the stems and steamed them in a shallow pan. When cool, she paired them with a vinaigrette sauce. One by one we gently...
originally published in Prime Number Magazine; All The Roads That Lead From Home, stories (Press 53, 2011); and By The Wayside, stories, (Unsolicited Press, 2017) Suicides shot up that winter. By Valentine’s Day there’d been four. The victims walked out when the light was low, usually...