Together We Can Bury It featured at Blue Fifth Review / Workshop Update

my books deskWoke up to a lovely surprise this morning. The editors of Blue Fifth Review have featured excerpts from my collection, Together We Can Bury It (The Lit Pub, 2012), along with gorgeous excerpts from Barbara Jane Reyes’ Poeta en San Francisco (Tinfish Press, 2005) and Evie Shockley’s a half-red sea (Carolina Wren Press, 2006) as part of their Blue Fifth Reviews for the month of July. Very honored. Thanks to Sam Rasnake and Michelle Elvy. You can find the featured works here:

Blue Fifth Reviews (July 2015/#2).

Regarding the Fast Flash© Workshops: I want to make sign ups and payment easy for workshop attendees, so I realized I need to upgrade my website to do so! I am in the process of changing this site over and hope to have it done soon. I’m going to run workshops in August, September, and October to accommodate everyone who expressed interest. Please stay tuned as I get everything organized and in place. I’m so excited to get started!

All best to everyone and have a wonderful last day of July. Enjoy that beautiful blue moon! full moon

The Lit Pub's 4 Book Bundle of Awesome!!

4 book bundle of awesom copyFor a limited time, get my collection, TOGETHER WE CAN BURY IT, Aimee Bender’s THE THIRD ELEVATOR, Liz Scheid’s THE SHAPE OF BLUE, Lena Bertone’s LETTERS TO THE DEVIL for just $40 from The Lit Pub bookstore:

Great review of TOGETHER WE CAN BURY IT at Book Riot

Wow. Huge thanks to David Abrams (author of the novel, Fobbit), for this beautiful review of my collection for the Riot Round-Up. I’m so happy and honored by this praise from a writer I admire so much:

I’ll keep this short: After reading Together We Can Bury It, I’m convinced there are few living authors who are better at flash fiction than Kathy Fish. She packs an incredible array of life, in all its rich complexities, into each one of the 40 stories in this 2012 collection. Unlike many short-shorts, Fish’s fiction doesn’t lean too heavily on allegory or turn characters into symbols and it rarely (if ever) leaves the reader scratching her head in “WTF?!” befuddlement. These are beautiful slices of life–little gems that, at every turn, left me feeling like I was filled with sunlight. — David Abrams

Here’s a link to the whole article, listing some fabulous books: Riot Round-Up: The Best Books We Read in December. The book may be ordered directly from The Lit Pub.

Segmented Structure in Flash Fiction: Rodney & Chelsea

I wrote several versions of this story, but this version, told in seven subtitled micros, is my favorite. Published years ago in Mississippi Review online, the story now appears in Together We Can Bury It. I’ve talked about segmented structure before, how the story and characterization are advanced and built-upon in short, sharp bursts and how well-suited this form is to flash fiction (see my posts about Jeff Landon’s and Myfanwy Collins’ beautiful segmented stories).

Rodney and Chelsea

1. Tangerines

Rodney and Chelsea have decided this is the day. They are sixteen years old and they are in love. Neither of them has ever done it, though Rodney has come close with a girl he worked with at Dairy Queen who smelled like French fries and who had perfect, melon-sized breasts. Chelsea’s breasts are more the size of tangerines, but he likes them. He likes that she smells like Fruit Loops and that her front teeth overlap slightly. Her mouth is glossed. He slips his tongue inside.

2. Bear Spirit

“Rodney’s an old man’s name,” Chelsea’s mom says and calls him Rascal instead. It makes Rodney feel like a Labrador.

Chelsea’s mom believes that life is a celebration and that people should live in the Now. Chelsea has an older brother named Royal. Nobody knows where the hell he is. He ran away from the halfway house downtown, the place Chelsea’s mom said was his best chance and hope. He has a behavior disorder which involves beating people up. He doesn’t know his own strength is what Chelsea’s mom says. He has a bear spirit. He is un-ruinable.

The last guy he beat up now walks with a cane.

3. The Bunnies

Chelsea’s father left when Royal was ten and Chelsea was a newborn. Every Easter, he sends Chelsea a six-foot Easter bunny and now she has sixteen huge Easter bunnies and there are no more places to sit in Chelsea’s house. Sometimes people sit on the bunnies’ laps or sometimes they just stand, looking around or sometimes they sit on the floor.

4. A Small Complication

Their first date, Rodney plucked a daffodil from Chelsea’s garden and presented it to her at the door. And Chelsea’s mom gave them Boone’s Farm, mixed with a splash of 7Up. All three of them got a little drunk, sitting on the porch watching the sun go down and a full moon rise. Chelsea’s mom insisted on driving Rodney home. Before he got out of the car, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him, hard.

5. About Rodney’s Parents . . .

Rodney doesn’t have any siblings. He feels lucky, given the circumstances. His mother died of cancer when he was five. He remembers standing on tiptoe to reach a cookie off a plate on the counter and her hand slapping his away. He tries to really see that hand, to see something about it that is especially hers, but it always ends up being just a hand.

Rodney’s father is a podiatrist who is working on his overall fitness. Every day at dawn, he walks the perimeter of the cul-de-sac, gripping fifty-pound dumbbells in each hand. In warm weather he goes without a shirt, his burgeoning muscles gleaming. He makes three trips around, bobs his chin to Chelsea’s mom who watches from her kitchen window, and lays the dumbbells on the porch in the special box. He consumes nothing but protein: lamb chops, sausages, steaks as thick as two hands clamped together. He will never love another woman, he promises Rodney, who really doesn’t care if he does or not. Rodney only wants his father to be happy, which his father assures him he is.

6. Clinical

Two bunnies sit in opposite corners of Chelsea’s bedroom. One is missing an eye and one’s polka-dotted ear is nearly torn off. Rodney and Chelsea undress in a clinical manner and fold their clothes as if, together, they have decided to join the Army. Rodney has seen parts of Chelsea but never the whole and now he stands before her and reaches out to touch one tangerine breast. Unsure of what to do with her own hands, Chelsea simply places them on Rodney’s shoulders.

She’s afraid to get closer because his thing is standing up. She digs her toes into the pink shag rug and closes her eyes. The breeze through the window is making the shutters flap against the window frame and Rodney’s breath smells like oatmeal and grape jelly.

7. The Now

At this moment Chelsea’s dad is getting fired from his job selling tires in Terre Haute and her mom is hunched over a patient, scraping plaque in an office downtown, thinking of that kiss and Royal’s getting the shit kicked out of him in a bar in Tucson. At this moment, Rodney’s dad’s outside on the curb, sweating, coughing, turning blue, as Rodney kisses Chelsea. Like howling into her mouth.

Flash fiction: Disassembly

“You’re the girl, aren’t you?” the woman says.

I’m sidled up to the bar at the Knights of Columbus Hall. It’s 11:00 in the morning on New Year’s Eve and we’ve just buried my dad. I ask the bartender to splash some more rum into my drink. I call him “barkeep” like we’re in a saloon. I’m the only one here drinking, but I’m doing it for my dad. He insisted there be an open bar.

“I’ve been sitting right over there, trying to figure it out,” the woman says. “The paper said he had seven sons and one daughter and I said to myself, I have got to see this poor girl.”

She’s short and squat, bedecked with a dozen or so necklaces and gold and silver chains. Her bosom stands between us like a very large Christmas present.

“It’s Joy, right? The unmarried one.”

With effort, I focus, but she’s juddering like an old film reel.

“My name is Barbara Lee,” she says. She looks at my right hand, the one holding the highball glass, and brushes crumbs from the corner of her mouth. “I didn’t know your father at all. I just like coming to these things.”

She appraises my clothes: I dress like a communist.

A small, male relative in a three-piece suit has been running rings around the buffet table. Now he’s changed course and seems intent on tackling me. I step aside just in time and he barrels right into a loaded coat rack and is boomeranged back a few feet, landing on his back. Wailing ensues.

My nephew comes harrumphing up, apologizing, lifting the kid to his feet. I press my palm to my aching head.

Barbara Lee is still yammering. On the other side of the hall, my oldest brother climbs up on a platform and waves his arms, calling out to the rest of us, the siblings, for a photo. It’s because of me, the sister, the one who moved so far away, that we have to do this when we can. Even, and maybe especially, if someone has died.

“Say, where’d you get those necklaces?” I ask. “I want some.”

“Walgreen’s. They’re on sale.”

“Will you take me?”

The barkeep pours the rest of my drink into a Styrofoam cup and tops it up. Barbara Lee helps thread my arms through the sleeves of my coat.

She drives a vintage VW bug. Riding along with my shoulder practically touching a stranger’s, I feel like someone who’s been given a day pass.

“Do you want to talk?” she says. “You know. About your loss?”


“Oh that’s a relief.” She starts singing along to the song on the radio. It’s an old Supremes song. “You know, this is just what I needed,” she says. “Maybe it’s weird, but I’m happy.”

“I’m just sort of happy,” I tell her.

The Walgreen’s is dilapidated and post-apocalyptic. Bins of discounted Christmas decorations and candy and gift sets ugly up the aisles. I keep my sunglasses on. Barbara Lee hustles ahead as I sip my rum and coke through a straw. I start to shiver again the way I did at the cemetery, as if I’m being disassembled.

I catch up to her in aisle ten. The bin of tangled necklaces resembles a snake pit. She extricates several and loops them over my head. I feel them there against my chest, lending me weight and substance and possible sparkle.

“Damn. These aren’t really me,” I say.

“Are you kidding?” she says. “These are everyone.”

We find a mirror in the cosmetics aisle. Barbara Lee peers into it with me and all I can focus on is her round face, now registering vague disapproval. Back at the Knights of Columbus, my brothers have probably stopped wondering what happened to me. Maybe the thing is over by now. They have gathered up all the pictures and mementos of our dad’s life and hauled them away.

I take off the necklaces and hand them to her. “I should get back.”

I buy some Excedrin and she buys a Snickers and a marshmallow Santa and we sit in the car while she eats them.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says. “It was a hoot.”

She starts the car and there’s more old Motown playing on the radio. She cranks the volume and I adjust the seat until I’m practically lying down. Barbara Lee and I sing along with Aretha in loud and fantastically off-pitch voices.

My brothers insist that I stand right in the center for all family photos. It is our custom. And one of them will say, a rose among thorns! and another will forget to put down his can of Bud. There’s a very old photo of all of us scrunched together on a couch, the bare and dirty feet of the youngest ones sticking out at the camera. I’m the baby, sitting on my oldest brother’s lap, arms outstretched, like Ta-Da!

This story was originally published in Guernica and is featured in “Together We Can Bury It”.

Flash Fiction: "See Jane"


When Jane was greedy, her mother would say she had a little pink pig inside her. All you do is want and take, sweetie, she said. They moved into a new house when Jane started high school. A bigger one they could all fit into, in a better neighborhood, but Jane liked the old house better. The clapboard with the cave basement and one bathroom and a toilet between her bedroom and the kitchen and that steep staircase that everyone had fallen down, then dreamed of falling down, and that attic the birds could get into and fly, fly down the staircase and into the living room and slam into the walls and that back porch and that garden and that crab apple tree and that incinerator on the block and those morning glories blooming on that back fence and the rhubarb and the hollyhocks and the neighbor girl with braces on her legs who came around collecting for Easter Seals. Once, Jane watched her mother remove her wedding ring with butter. She watched her fix her hat and her lipstick and walk out the door. And later, she watched her father push her mother into the lime green wall and Jane ran and came back, ran and came back, until she grew up and rode a train through the snow to Chicago and drank whiskey sours and gimlets, tipping the glass under a veil she wore over her face.

(*this is the first flash in my collection, Together We Can Bury It)


Some very kind reviews for Together We Can Bury It…

my copies of TWCBI

I’m very grateful for the kind reviews I’ve received so far for my recently re-issued flash/short story collection on Goodreads, NANOfiction, Fictionaut, and elsewhere. Here is a sampling:

“Most of what I know about flash fiction I learned from reading Kathy Fish’s work. She’s a consummate master of the short form, and I’m so glad Lit Pub ran a second printing of this collection. These are the sort of stories that deepen and intensify with each rereading. Keep them close at hand.” Ravi Mangla, author of Understudies Goodreads

“This book is a Bible of the short form, meant to be savored then reread again and again. No one does compressed fiction like Kathy Fish. Her precision is unparalleled. Every detail, every line, every word does double, triple duty. Every beat is flawless. The stories in this stunning collection brim with such fullness and depth, they will break you up and cut you down – and leave you utterly mystified, wondering about the lives of these characters long after you finish reading. How does she accomplish all this in so few words? There lies the astounding genius of Kathy Fish.” Sara Lippmann, author of Doll Palace 

“So much attention is paid to the lyricism in each of the stories that a reader can’t help but find the beauty in each scene and through each character’s perspective no matter how familiar or mundane it may at first seem. There are so many examples of this lyricism at play in the collection but the language in “Rodney and Chelsea” stood out to me the most. In this story, the two titular characters, teen neighbors, are about to engage in their first sexual experience together. It’s a moment of great anticipation and anxiety, yet the narrative sweeps around them meticulously, not only registering their expressions and subtle movements, but their life histories, the space they share living next door to each other, and essential connections they share with family, friends, and neighbors. The entire moment is exquisitely rendered in just four pages, and it’s such a virtuoso accomplishment of prosody that I had to reread it twice more just before I could move on.” Peter Fontaine, NANOfiction NANOfiction

“If I were teaching a course in the form of very short fiction (not all of these stories are very short), I would certainly put Kathy Fish’s collection on my syllabus. In fact, I might just teach a course because I’ve read her collection. In sudden fiction, the writer/reader has no space for meandering or groping through the narrative for a story. Each move must stick, and in Fish’s stories every move does. Each beginning draws the reader in, and every ending satisfies. The middle is bursting with realism that does not seem constructed to be realism; it feels real and, yes, meaty.” Christopher Allen, author of Conversations with S. Teri O’Type (A Satire) Books at Fictionaut

“Fish’s writing is like a light gleaming up from the bottom of the lake, distorting itself as refracted waves curl or undulate. Her characters ring true yet they keep an appropriate aloofness. We both feel as if we know these people, as if they are friends or acquaintances in our own lives, yet it is often like we are watching these friends behave badly on screen so that we’re powerless to intervene.” Len Kuntz, author of The Dark Sunshine and forthcoming, I’m Not Supposed to Be Here and Neither Are You People You Know By Heart

“Read this on a train back to Baltimore. On the train were people in McDonalds uniforms making loud and beautiful jokes because they’d stolen a bunch of mayonnaise. If inside a jar of stolen mayonnaise you found a tiny Nina Simone singing her cover of “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues,” and you get to the part where she goes “Well that’s it folks, that’s it,” you would actually be getting to the sad and wan stories in this collection. And then this book sneaks the mayo back to where it stole it from, but it listens to Nina Simone on its off-brand MP3 player while drinking ginger ale at the mall, just wandering and wandering and remembering and trying not to regret anything.” Mike Young, author of Look! Look! Feathers! and Who Can Make It Big Noö Journal

“The worlds in this collection are often a little lopsided, a little worn, sometimes dark and piercing, yet always beautiful in one way or another. They never tip over into sentimentalism or conceit and give the feeling that anything can happen, good and bad. But whatever does happen, you know it will be brave and honest, in the most human sense of the word.” Berit Ellingsen, author of Beneath the Liquid Skin Berit Ellingsen’s blog

“A sweepingly excellent collection of 40 stories, a sort of retrospecticus of Kathy Fish’s writing career so far. Everything about this book is well-done…The stories themselves: amazing. There’s no filler: every story is aching and gorgeous.” Kevin Fanning, author of Jennifer Love Hewitt Times Infinity Goodreads

“These stories possess a clear and believable voice that is at home in the company of Lydia Davis, Russell Edson, Kim Chinquee. Fish breathes life to the page, so much so, the characters and actions stay with the reader long after the book is closed…The book is filled with so many strange and amazing moments the reader cannot avoid becoming a part of the lives and choices and passions discovered in it. This can only happen when the writing is of the highest quality and a true pleasure to read. “Highest quality” is the perfect descriptive for Together We Can Bury It – a collection that should not be missed.” Sam Rasnake, author of Cinéma Vérité and Inside a Broken Clock Used Furniture Review

“Kathy Fish’s Together We Can Bury It is so creative and beautifully written, it’s hard not to marvel at the richness in each of the pieces.” Peter Tieryas, author of Bald New World and Watering Heaven The Whimsy of Creation

“Within, you will find stories that will touch you, leave you breathless, make you laugh, make your heart ache. You will run the gamut of emotions–I promise you that–and you will find yourself living in the moment of these stories as filled with despair and hope as many of the characters are, waiting for change that may never come, but always waiting, never giving up.” Myfanwy Collins, author of Echolocation and I Am Holding Your Hand and forthcoming, The Book of Laney Myfanwy Collins’ blog

“There’s a movie’s worth of character and plot and insight in every blooming one of these short fictions. I finished this book feeling stuffed, dazed, and amazed by how much Kathy Fish gets done in such tight spaces. It’s a thrill to be privy to what she thinks about, the wonder she carries inside.” Pia Ehrhardt, author of Famous Fathers Goodreads

“Some authors have a way of mak
ing a reader forget the world, forget that she’s reading, allowing pure enjoyment of the art of story. This is especially difficult to pull off with reading author/teachers. We feel the pull to be critical, cautious, and read with our defenses up, ready to find something that jostles us from the narrative. Very few authors have the ability to make such a reader forget, and even fewer flash fiction and short fiction writers have this ability because the form means creating numerous worlds and engaging the reader wholly again with each new story. Some authors can do it, though. Kathy Fish is one. This book is a gift for a reader like me.” Jen Knox, author of Musical Chairs and To Begin Again Goodreads

“Beautiful collection by a master of the flash fiction form. These stories pack more loneliness, heartbreak, and despair into smaller spaces than ought to be possible, given the laws of narrative physics. But as one of Kathy Fish’s characters tells us: “this is an infinite universe and in an infinite universe all things are mathematically possible.” And yet, I still don’t know how she does it.” Mary Lynn Reed Goodreads

“1. I LOVE these stories. “Skinny Lullaby at the Lizard Lounge: Schenectady” where she writes: “The lady on the stage is skinny-singing something Joni Mitchell. We drink fuzzy navels. Get sleepy. Slide into each other like river otters.” I really LOVE “Snow” and “Wake Up” and “Be My Be My Baby” and “This is Dwight” and “Lens” and “Orlando” and “Tenderoni.” What I’m trying to say is that I love them all.
2. I love how Kathy Fish writes about: men & women, snow, food, cocktails, homes and music.
3. I love how Kathy Fish describes colors.
4. My husband is a VERY persnickety reader. I read a lot of these little stories aloud to him and he loved them as much as I do.
5. And I don’t feel this way about all stories/books I read but Kathy’s stories make me want to WRITE. And that’s probably my favorite thing about all of them.” Leesa Cross-Smith, author of Every Kiss a War Goodreads

Review of Together We Can Bury It at NANOfiction

430239_329813657062269_180459741997662_984752_381805125_n“There are so many examples of…lyricism at play in the collection but the language in “Rodney and Chelsea” stood out to me the most. In this story, the two titular characters, teen neighbors, are about to engage in their first sexual experience together. It’s a moment of great anticipation and anxiety, yet the narrative sweeps around them meticulously, not only registering their expressions and subtle movements, but their life histories, the space they share living next door to each other, and essential connections they share with family, friends, and neighbors. The entire moment is exquisitely rendered in just four pages, and it’s such a virtuoso accomplishment of prosody that I had to reread it twice more just before I could move on.” ~ Peter Fontaine, from his review of Together We Can Bury It at NANOfiction. The rest of the review may be found HERE.

Together We Can Bury It is available again!

430239_329813657062269_180459741997662_984752_381805125_nI’m so happy to announce that my collection of flash fiction and short stories, TOGETHER WE CAN BURY IT, is in stock again at The Lit Pub and may be ordered here: Lit Pub Store along with some other gorgeous books by Liz Scheid, Aimee Bender, and more.

As Outside the Clouds Made Fists / New Review of TWCBI


Christopher Allen asked me to contribute something to Metazen, a journal I’ve long admired. I haven’t been writing much flash lately, working on a much longer story, so it was fun to write a microfiction. You can read it in 40 seconds here: As Outside the Clouds Made Fists. Thanks, Chris and thanks Metazen for having me. I feel 78% cooler as a human and a writer now.

Also, Chris posted a fantastic review of Together We Can Bury It at Fictionaut, saying, among other very kind things:

“…the profound beauty of Fish’s prose starts and ends with the lovingly observed character.”

You can read the whole review here: Books at Fictionaut: Together We Can Bury It

My turn at The Next Big Thing: TOGETHER WE CAN BURY IT

Huge thanks to my friend, Susan Tepper, for tagging me on this…is the word “meme”?…for writers. You can read her response to it on Jules Archer’s blog, Jules Just Write. Susan’s answers are fascinating and so is her book, FROM THE UMBERPLATZEN, and Jules’ blog is the coolest.

Aaaanyway, the questions for this seem better fitted for novels and I’m promoting a short story collection, but what the hell.

Here’s the cover of my book. It was designed by the amazingly talented Jana Vukovic:


I love it.

And here is the Goodreads page for the book with some early reviews: Goodreads.

And now, to the questions:

1) What is the title of your book?


2) Where did the idea for the book come from?

Well, it’s stories, so the ideas came from everywhere, from life and living and people and love and strife and things I’ve done and the odd contents of my brain & heart.

3) What genre does your book fall under?

Literary Short Fiction

4) Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I’d want all ordinary looking unknowns. Like me.

5) What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

It’s a book of Kathy Fish stories.

6) Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?


7) How long did it take you to write a first draft of your manuscript?

See? This is really for novels. But the stories were written over a period of ten years.
I’m slow.

8) What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

I don’t think I can compare it to other books specifically.

9) Who or what inspired you to write the book?

I’m going to say Molly Gaudry inspired me to make the collection (of already written work) because she asked me to and her faith and belief in my work was, and is, a huge inspiration.

10) What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

You really have to be a fan of short fiction to like this book. On Goodreads, all the time, I see these reviews of short fiction collections that start out with, “I don’t really like short stories” and I shake my head in despair. And you have to be open to odd, experimental forms, prose poetry type things, etc. And I’m laughing because now I sound like I’m trying to talk you out of reading this book! No, no, you should read this book. It represents the best 20% of the stories I’ve written. In my opinion. If I threw in all the stories I’ve ever written, it would be a bigger book, but there would be stories in there that are just so so. There’s no reason to make a collection of so so stories.

It’s a small, good book and I’m proud of it.

UP NEXT: Two writers I’ve known for many years and who have terrific books to promote. Tiff Holland will be talking about her chapbook from Rose Metal Press, BETTY SUPERMAN and Eric Bosse will be discussing his collection from Ravenna Press, MAGNIFICENT MISTAKES.

Interview + Two New Flashes @Connotation Press

Many thanks to the lovely Meg Tuite for interviewing me and featuring two of my flashes at Connotation Press.

“I just read “Wild Life,” again and am mesmerized by the movement of your characters, dialogue, stories. They have their own pulse. I find something buried deeper with each reading. I’ve been sharing “Petunias” with my flash fiction classes. You have many admirers in Santa Fe as well as everywhere else on the map. I’m a huge fan. I am looking forward to your new collection coming out through The Lit Pub.

Your two exceptional stories, “Neil Figgens,” and “A Pirate or a Cowboy,” are both intimate moments in very different ways between two characters.

“Neil Figgens” had a touch of Flannery O’Connor in it. I’m remembering her story, “Revelation,” set in a doctor’s office. But more than just the setting, it’s the intriguing exchange between the two main characters, Neil and Beth. He’s the older of the two, but she is direct and keeps at him even when he goes inside himself from time to time.”

Read the rest of the interview and the stories here

Review of TOGETHER WE CAN BURY IT / Len Kuntz

Wow, my day has been made by this beautiful review of TOGETHER WE CAN BURY IT by Len Kuntz on his blog People You Know By Heart. I am hugely grateful for the kind words.

“From the terrific book title, we move through the lives of troubled people not unlike wraiths who slip through bedroom walls to glimpse the destruction of life or its smoldering aftermath. Some pieces are clipped as short as a page. A few stories might stretch as long as six pages. No matter the length, Fish makes the reader work in all the right ways, so that there are needed pauses and reflections both during and after having finished a story. The reader sometimes has to ask, “Does that mean what I think?” or “Wait a minute—what’s really going on here?” Often, however, the message is brutally clear, as in the concluding lines of “Tederoni”:
“He stoops and picks up the kitten’s smooshed head and its body and the pieces are so small in his hands. Together, we walk to the side of the road and I watch as he chucks them, hard, into a patch of high weeds.” Read the entire review on Len’s blog People You Know By Heart

Together We Can Bury It — Coming Soon! The Lit Pub Bookstore…

Very excited to see my new short story collection at the Lit Pub Bookstore page with such a stellar list, including books by Aimee Bender, J.A. Tyler, Matt Bell, Andrea Kneeland, Scott Garson, Caitlin Horrocks, Miles Harvey and Ben Segal and Erinrose Mager. I seriously want to buy all of these.

Here is the link. These books will launch at AWP in Chicago: The Lit Pub Bookstore