You can read my latest review at the lovely Night Music Journal. The book is Earthquakes In Candyland, a collection of feminist non-fiction by Portland author and performer, Jennifer Robin. If you have a book of prose you’d like reviewed, feel free to reach out via email to firstname.lastname@example.org.More
When I am not writing or editing for Typehouse magazine, you might find me panting on my bike, or slinging pastries at a bakery in Southeast Portland. You can check out the magic of Typehouse, here: http://typehousemagazine.com/ If you would like to contact me for a review of poetry, creative non-fiction or literary fiction, please send an inquiry to email@example.com.
Is there a difference between flash fiction and flash nonfiction? I wrote the story “Vestibules” about 3.5 years ago in a class with Michael McGregor at Portland State. It didn’t look at all like the piece that it is now up at Little Fictions | Big Truths. To be honest, I never saw myself writing […]More
My flash fiction story, “The Wax” can now be read in the print issue of Coffee People, Issue 06! I am so, so honored to have my work in this zine. It’s about time there was a zine for and about the experiences of the folx behind the counter!! From barista interviews, to visual art, […]More
def. Autoportrait: 1. a likeness of a person, esp. of the face, as a painting, drawing, sculpture, or photograph… Earlier this year I purchased Tonight I’m Someone Else – Hodson’s collection of (mostly) braided personal essays. Her work struck me as something so original – but I couldn’t put my finger on how. Did it […]More
My review of Jessica Wilbanks’ memoir When I Spoke in Tongues: A Story of Faith and its Loss is up at Angel City Review: http://angelcityreview.com/when-i-spoke-in-tongues/More
A favorite poem that I can’t stop re-reading by a new favorite poet. “Desunt Nonnula” by Kaveh Akbar. (copied and pasted from Bennington Review) If you haven’t read Calling A Wolf A Wolf… Do yourself a favor and read it! Desunt Nonnula means “some things are lacking.” It was the last line in a “continuous” poem […]More