Photo: Mark Roh

Writers write because they need to, but they also yearn to share their stories and ideas. I hope this website introduces my work to a broader audience of readers and contributors. On this site you’ll also find links to the websites of journals, literary magazines, visual artists and other writers. Feel free to contact me with comments, suggestions, or critiques. I welcome your voice and your stories. 
“The narrative landscapes that compel me most are surprising situations and odd characters, social marginalization and global cultures. Words are nomadic until they find a home. I write to understand our flawed humanity and to discover who I am — in society, within myself, exploring worlds both familiar and alien.
I’m drawn to explore characters who live on the fringes of society–the left out and the marginalized, migrants from civil strife & oppression, exiles from domestic turmoil. I attempt to fully inhabit these characters’ material states and inner lives, expressed in a spare narrative style.”

Stories from the Fictional Café

Humor to begin…

“Want You Gone”

Cherie was pouring steamed milk over a double espresso when her father appeared at the café dressed in a form-fitting orange anorak jacket, stonewashed designer jeans and millennial sneakers. The pegs in his scalp testified to a recent hair transplant and he had obviously undergone a mid-life crisis facelift, his face tighter than a bongo, like one of those aging Las Vegas singers.
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“The Invention of Numbers”

Looking Back

Image courtesy of Katheryn Holt ©2016

Patrick had never needed to use a public phone. He noticed them occasionally, forlorn and disregarded objects in the urban landscape, but he didn’t really know if any of them worked. Still, he asked for change from the pretty dark-haired barista with the bumblebee tattoo on her neck. He handed her a dollar and she fumbled through the tip jar, smiling as she dropped the coins into his palm one at a time. He felt an electric charge when her fingertips brushed his. Maybe it was from all the appliances she handled.
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“The Call”

Image courtesy of Katheryn Holt ©2016

202-339-6732. The phone number I found scribbled on the title page of the book I was reading, a Milo Weaver spy novel. Normally I wouldn’t give it a second thought. Used books often contain jottings from previous readers. The phone number could belong to anyone—a friend, dry cleaner, business contact, call girl—but it had nothing to do with me. My curiosity was easy prey to fantasy, though, immersed as I was in a story of international intrigue. I was strangely tempted to call. Ridiculous and potentially embarrassing.
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