And so I Must Go | Entropy, 2018

We’re all made of stories.

The kind where prologues take roots in the empty basements of hearts.

My story with her started when I tried to redeem myself for hurting you.

Goodbyes, good lies, and God’s lies | An Excerpt

My grandmother passed away while I was out in the Scottish wilderness—when I was somewhere in the green among the hundreds of sheep in the northwest.

The signal was bad and I was on vacation, and I quickly realized there was no way I could get to an airport in time for the funeral. And my dad said, “it’s okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to, it’s okay.”

An Interview with Bruce Bauman | Slice Magazine, 2016

Bruce Bauman’s second novel, Broken Sleep (Other Press, 2015), is one where rock music, politics, art, religion, and love all come crashing together in epic proportions. But more than that, it’s a book about family. Broken Sleep is what happens when a writer bridges the magic between their pen and their mind. It’s innovative, it’s heartbreaking, it’s beautiful, it’s emotional—it opens with a bang, and it’s one of the best books I’ve read this year.

This is how I don’t miss you | Excerpt 1.1

I’d like to stop writing about you now.

A Prophecy of Alzheimer’s and You |Entropy Magazine, July 2015

My only thought for the entire two months before going home for a one-week vacation was, I’m going to eat so many gyros and souvlakia, it’s not even funny.

When an MFA brings Tears | Slice Magazine, July 2015

The first time I cried in public, I was on the 6 going uptown just pulling into the Bleecker Street stop.

It was the summer of 2012—my first New York City summer, sandwiched between my two years of grad school in Los Angeles—and I was blissfully ignoring the question that was so quick to fall off people’s lips.

Writings #4

The first time I cried in public was when I was on the New York subway, and I had just turned 24. 

No more light | Draft 1.1

I’d like to stop writing about you now but I don’t know how to stop. My heart is getting smaller with each sunset. You’d think all the tiny pieces would allow someone else to slip in and take your place, but all it does is radiate your light, keeping everyone else away.

Work in Progress | Draft #1.1

When I write about you, I call you ‘The Light.’

Because that’s how all of my darkness knew it had to stay away.

On Living With Darkness | Medium.com, Human Parts

The first time the lie slipped out of my mouth, I knew I had found my way out. The words simply rolled off my tongue and popped out into the world. I told everyone I left New York because I needed the change. I answered every question like it was no big deal, like, “Yeah, it was time for a change.” As if my heart started to yearn for something new — started to yearn for another adventure, one that would push me into the unknown once again.