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The Fragility of Apples published at Page & Spine

My newest flash story, The Fragility of Apples was published at Page & Spine.

It’s short! It’s quick! Read it!



I’m gonna vote today

Men, their rights, and nothing more; women, their rights, and nothing less.

– Susan B. Anthony

I was in 8th grade when Bill Clinton was inaugurated. Our history teacher rolled in a television on a metal cart so we could watch history as it happened. I didn’t care about the president but a T.V. was in the room!

The T.V. meant fluorescent lights were shut off. I could goof off in the lukewarm darkness of the classroom. Write notes to my friends and fold the paper up into intricate origami. Laugh, lay my head down close to a friend’s and tell secrets.

I ended up in detention.

My teacher, a man who was eventually fired for mysterious reasons (my parents told me it was because he had “inappropriate contact” with a female student but I don’t honestly know), told me that I was disrespectful. I didn’t grasp the importance of the moment.

But, why should I have cared about Bill Clinton becoming our president?

I always knew, growing up, that the ultimate authority in our country was a man – a white man, Christian, middle aged. Rich. Powerful, more powerful than I could ever be. Little girls did not aspire to be the president of the United States where I lived. Minorities – black kids, Latino kids, queer kids, non-Christian kids did not aspire to be president of the United States.

You can be anything you want, adults used to tell us. No one sidelined the little girls and said, except you. But, we all knew who could be president and who could not. Who could lead and who could not. Who mattered. Trickle Down Discrimination.

In that history class, that man, that authority, was my teacher and he sent me to detention and called me disrespectful.

In jobs, that man was my boss.

In clubs, he was my adviser.

In the world, he was my leader. And, even watching other countries elect women and minority leaders, I knew it did not happen here. It could not. For some undefinable reason, not here. No one would say it outright:

Because you are not white.

Because you are not Christian.

Because you are not man.

I have known many powerful minorities and women in my lifetime and they are all important. But, the ultimate authority in our country was always the same. Rich, powerful, middle-aged white men.

Until President Barack Obama.

The day Obama was inaugurated, it snowed. I was so excited after watching him be sworn in, Michael and I  went outside and made a bucketful of snowballs. Then, we went to our neighbor’s house across the street and told the couple living there that they had exactly 20 minutes to assemble their arsenal. The men ran back inside, dressed in bulky layers and started packing their own snowballs in their front yard. I felt light, like a kid. Something had shifted, something important. A possibility had opened up.

My daughter will not grow up knowing what I knew. Her world is so amazingly different than mine was. All the times, growing up, when I substituted some man’s opinion for my own because I understood that my opinion was somehow less – that will not happen to my daughter. Every time I silenced my voice because I assumed he knew better – that will not happen to her.

Because I’m voting today. And, I sincerely believe that women and minorities are going to be the predominant voices in this election. We’ve had enough. We’re done. We’re tired. We’ve seen the hatred and bigotry and racism and misogyny and xenophobia lash out time and time again during this election cycle. Death throes of a system that is coming to a halt right in front of our eyes.

I understand that there is a whole subset of Americans who hate the idea of a woman president more than they hate a truly, truly bad man. No matter what he says. No matter what he does. He could go to prison for treason (and honestly, isn’t that what happens next?) and people will still support him. That knowledge makes me so sad because my daughter will feel that. She’ll know it, I can’t protect her from that. Initial change comes quickly but lasting change grinds at a pace we can barely measure.

Maybe all of this – this election cycle, Black Lives Matter, Marriage Equality – is the second wave civil rights movement. I hope so. But, it is slow and painful. This kind of trauma lasts generations. I’m sorry for it.I’m so sorry for the price real, important people have to pay. All of this is a reaction, maybe, to the first black President of the United States. Or, a reaction to the idea of a woman rising up and claiming her spot in history. A reaction, maybe, to that big, powerful system dying. That system, that institution that told me growing up who the authority truly was in my life. It wasn’t me.

But, today it is.

I’m voting today.

Interview: How many things can Christopher DeWan blow up in the shortest possible word count?


Christopher DeWan’s debut flash fiction collection, Hoopty Time Machines: Fairy Tales For Grown Ups is about to hit the shelves. In preparation for the celebration, I had the very good fortune to interview him at The Review Review:

“Flash is a Special Kind of Magic.” A Chat With Christopher DeWan, Author of Hoopty Time Machines

Spoiler Warning: I got to read his book early. It is amazing. If, as Chris says, “Flash is a special kind of magic,” he is a deft magician. I highly, highly recommend it.


The Art Of Broken Pieces published at Menda City Review


You know Menda City Review, right?

I first spotted Menda City when I started submitting my work several years ago. I loved the aesthetic and accessibility of the stories in the archives. The artwork is always beautiful and haunting. I thought, “Hey, I’d like to be published there.”

I tried a couple times and got shot down. That happens a lot. But, this month, my story “The Art of Broken Pieces” finds its home at MCR.

I’m happy to contribute a little dark and demon-filled story to the long and colorful history of such a wonderfully clever lit mag. Special thanks to Terry Rogers, editor extraordinaire.


How To Catch Fireflies published at Mojo


My latest short story, How To Catch Fireflies, was released today in Mojo | Issue 10.

This is an older story that sat, unread and unpublished, for a long time. I’m happy it found such a perfect home because I love it and I love the main character, Hannah. Like the story, itself, Hannah doesn’t give up. She may be young but Hannah knows way more than I do. I hope you enjoy her, too.

Selfies and voting: more American than Apple pie



Let me pop this selfie, for a moment. Because I’m an American woman and today is a big voting day in North Carolina (and Ohio and Florida)

Along with anywhere between 30-40% of the voting public, I am unaffiliated.
I had a hard time deciding the best strategy behind my vote. In NC, unaffiliated voters can decide which primary to vote in. Do I vote Democrat? Or, do I ask for a Republican ballot and vote for Rubio (the lesser of three very scary evils)? One vote for Rubio is one less vote for Trump and this election might be the most important of my life.
In the end, I voted with my conscious – I voted in the Democratic primary for the candidate I think is most likely to be able to affect change according to my belief system. Both candidates are appealing but my vote was more practical than philosophical. If you thought Obama had a hard time getting anything done, this next Democratic president could be worse off (I mean, Trump’s rise to conservative power does not bode well for bi-partisanship) and we need someone with experience and political clout. If we’re lucky, both Sanders and Clinton will be working together in the next administration.
So, besides voting, the next most quintessentially American thing I can do today is post a selfie. Not because I’m an attention-seeking jerk (I mean, I am, but that isn’t my motivation today) but because:
  • TODAY , it is important to remember that women have only been able to vote in this country for the last 96 years. But, this change took decades to enact. The first national suffrage organizations were established in 1869. The broader movement for women’s rights started in 1840. And, remember, this mostly meant white women had access to voting.
  • If you are a woman, remember – there are places TODAY that do not allow women the right to vote.
  • The civil rights movement in the 1950s and 60s brought renewed voting rights for disenfranchised black citizens. But, TODAY, we are still seeing voter disenfranchisement with vote ID laws and gerrymandering. If you think I’m wrong, explain Trump to me. (Don’t really. I don’t want to hear it.)
  • If you think Nazi Germany was another lifetime, you are wrong. Symbols of Nazism are banned but Angela Merkel, president of Germany, is seeing a bitter fight from the far-conservative right. This is happening TODAY. Germany has the strongest economy in the European Union. They have the highest success in manufacturing.
  • This isn’t the Old Guard, either. The state of the European Union is important to us.
  • That anger doesn’t live in a vacuum. It is happening here, now. On American soil. The rise of Neo-Nazism in Europe is spurred by the same issues of American White Supremacy. And, it is terrifying because we’ve seen how this ends. Someone is going to get hurt. People have already gotten hurt but we will suffer large scale pain unless we shut this down.
So if you are an unaffiliated voter, check your state laws. Maybe unaffiliated voters – moderate people who want to do the right thing – can be strategic and vote with their conscious.
Today is a good day to start.
Other than setting off fireworks, it is the most American thing you could do.
Of course, if you have fireworks, you should definitely set those off, too.

New rant…err…tips article at The Review Review

I have a new tips article published over at The Review Review and it is a little rant-y.


Full of ire, you might say.

But what writer doesn’t feel a little stymied from time to time? If you aren’t frustrated with the publishing process, you probably aren’t doing it right. Or, you are a genius. In which case, get lost.

Read my rant here: A Snake Eating its Own Tail and Other Paradoxes of Publishing