Publications, Workshops, Conferences, & Awards
Iowa Writers’ Workshop MFA. Fiction. 2017
Participant / Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference. Fiction. 2024
Imagination Unbound Fellowship / Under the Volcano Workshop. Speculative Fiction. 2023
“A Collective Loss of Words” / The Bare Life Review. Nonfiction. 2021
“The Photograph at the End of the World” / Redivider. Hybrid Nonfiction. 2021
“Workshopping the 2020 Presidential Election” / McSweeney’s Internet Tendency. Humor. 2020
“Living with the Dead in Placentia, CA” / Catapult. Speculative Fiction. 2020
“Idle” / Cimarron Review. Poetry. 2019
“Social Body” - 2018 Contest Winner / Black Warrior Review. Hybrid Nonfiction. 2018
“Calcitic” / Spillway. Poetry. 2018
Participant / Disquiet Workshop. Nonfiction. 2018
Science Fiction Reading and Writing Fellowship / Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Fiction. 2017
“Performative,” “In Her Room” / Prelude. Poetry. 2017
Artist-in-Residence Fellowship / Edward F. Albee Foundation. Fiction. 2016
“Workshopping the 2016 Presidential Election” / McSweeney’s Internet Tendency. Humor. 2016
“Abeyance” / Cincinnati Review. Poetry. 2015
works in progress
I’m working on two speculative novels at the moment. Here’s a peek at one:
We are not on any map. My birth certificate lists a P.O. Box thirty miles away, in a city I’ve never been. This is how it is for the people who are born in our company town, and on the death certificates for those who have died here, too. Our home is at the town’s edge, where the desert meets the green lawns. Beyond our yard is the wash, a flood basin. It has no water in it as there has been no rain. Where we are in the foothills, the wash is left natural and broad. Down the valley, past city limits, it narrows to concrete channels funneling west to ocean, but you can't know that from here; there's too much haze and it’s too far. The laboratory lies opposite the wash, hemmed in by the sifter nets. Even when you can’t see the nets, you can take a deep breath and know they are there. You can take a deep breath because they are there, filtering the toxic dust, claiming this patch of Southern California desert. At their tops, floating lights blink to alert low-flying aircraft, although we live in a no-fly zone.