The first casting call was a genesis. I’m sure of it now. I walked into a warehouse on the southeast side of town.
On a whitewashed island in Greece, where the brass church bells chime out into the sea
every evening, there is a slender old woman in a red head scarf who yells out, “Soup! A scoop of
soup!” while banging her tin drum with a ladle and wandering the cobblestoned alleyways.
I am lying flat on the ground in a quiet living room in a quiet home in the kind of quiet suburb everyone’s at least driven through, if not lived in. I am breathing deeply, from my diaphragm, like the VHS instructed.
There were two beds in Little’s room. Put back to back they were as long as his father was tall. The walls were covered in a light floral print.
During Lantern Festival, I compete against Brother to see who will fill up with tangyuan first.
In this delightful collection of prize-winning stories, queer, gender-nonconforming, and trans characters struggle to find love and forgiveness, despite their sometimes comic, sometimes tragic mistakes. With insight and compassion, debut author Conklin reveals both the dark and lovable sides of their characters, resulting in stories that make you laugh and wince, sometimes at the same time.
I can see his whole face. He strolls toward me, grin wide, eyes shaded by blue Bruin cap.
“Once, there was a little girl” no, not a girl, let’s make it a boy this time and wait, this is not a good way to start a story at all.
A cow stood in the field. Amanda didn’t hesitate, but walked right over. She was paying $75 an hour to hug this cow, why hesitate? It would be her first hug in over a year.
Learning to separate your own interests away from those feelings of, “I should be more like this, I should be more like that”—that’s going to be valuable forever. And not just in writing.