The idea for the book came pretty much fully formed, at least in a loose sense. I basically woke up one day with an idea for a story in three acts, about a man who literally buries his sins.
On Saturday Daniel Morgenthau decided to stop eating. He made no formal announcement; he was not one to make a fuss. He’d quit smoking almost fifty years ago much the same way.
With Leyna Krow’s story collection, I’m Fine, But You Appear to Be Sinking, Featherproof Books has succeeded in their stated mission to publish “strange and beautiful fiction.” Both strangeness and beauty play a big role in these pages—as do humor and heart and honesty.
I am taking the assignment of offering my research notes quite literally. What you see above is the first sentence in the Composition notebook that houses my scrawled sketches for what became The Lost Daughter Collective.
Robbie is lanky and pallid. He keeps rocking onto his toes like there is something to see over the heads of the volunteers crowding the sidewalk. He asks me what I think we should do.
Dana Diehl is a scientist. Her stories run the gamut of scientific inquiry: biology, ecology, zoology, anatomy, astronomy and geology all make cameos in her debut collection, Our Dreams Might Align . Whether through worms or wormholes, Diehl’s characters are experimenting, as is she.
I was twenty-six that summer, which is young by nearly everyone’s standards, but there was one job I was too old for and it was the job I had: I was a day-camp counselor. I’d taken the job not because I needed the money (well, I did, but I could have made more per hour doing pretty much anything else), but because I needed to do research for my novel.
After they fucked for the first time, their faces still stinging from the sleet coming down outside, she said, “That was lovely.”
Gen X witnessed the flame (though not the warmth) of Boomer prosperity, and Millennials see only a wisp of smoke. Letters from Dinosaurs is a post-apocalyptic work from that vantage point.
People often want to know if the snakes are real. They seem to worry less about the giant octopus, jumping squid, backyard tigers, and human clones.
The baby is born at home. This isn’t planned. In a blizzard in Wisconsin, she slips out of her mother and is wrapped, a slush of vernix and blood, in a white towel.