This year has already been so busy. Marriage. Grad School. Research Project. Promotion. And now, at last, I can put my dream on that list: Novel Publication. That's right, ladies and gentlethems, my novel, A Lot of People Live in This House, is coming to bookshelves around the world in May 2023. I will be, at last, a novelist.
Her knee jiggles. Incessant anxious energy has made its home in her veins, moving through her as steadily as blood. Today, though, the anxiety is a physical manifestation as it plays on her nerves. It is a violation of spirit.
For months and months and months I've tried to get my shitty short stories published. They haven't been (because they're shitty, obviously). So, in an attempt to move some of them out into the world, I give you this. Surrealist fiction (which is what I want to call this) is not my wheelhouse, but it was sweet, sweet torture to write. Thank you for reading, as always!
Life has been pretty rough for me as of late. I’ve been through the wringer, and I’m just trying to keep my shit together long enough to grow as a person. Thank God for poetry, even if this poetry isn’t any good.
After 6 months of hand-wringing, my thesis adviser finally finished my draft. And guess what? It was as bad as I thought it was going to be.