Elinam Agbo

Elinam Agbo - 1983

Elinam Agbo was born in Ghana and moved to the United States when she was ten. She has since lived… Read more »
R.M. Cooper
Border Patrol

R.M. Cooper - Border Patrol

R.M. Cooper’s writing has appeared in dozens of publications, including Adroit, Best American Experimental Writing, Cream City Review, Denver Quarterly,… Read more »
Dorene O’Brien
Eight Blind Dates Later

Dorene O’Brien - Eight Blind Dates Later

“Eight Blind Dates Later” appears in Dorene O’Brien’s second fiction collection, What It Might Feel Like to Hope, which will… Read more »
A. Muia
Las Salinas

A. Muia - Las Salinas

A. Muia lives in Skagit Valley, Washington. “Las Salinas” is part of a novel-in-stories set in Baja California, Mexico. Other… Read more »
Dustin M. Hoffman
Snake in a Can

Dustin M. Hoffman - Snake in a Can

Dustin M. Hoffman is the author of the story collection One-Hundred-Knuckled Fist, winner of the 2015 Prairie Schooner Book Prize.… Read more »
Ross Wilcox

Ross Wilcox - Symptoms

Ross Wilcox is originally from South Dakota. His stories have appeared in The Carolina Quarterly, Beloit Fiction Journal, Nashville Review,… Read more »
T. Lucas Earle

T. Lucas Earle - Trade

T. Lucas Earle is a writer, filmmaker, and musician. His fiction has appeared in Electric Spec, Colored Lens, Razor Literary… Read more »

Eight Blind Dates Later

Dorene O’Brien

I was drunk and lonely and tired of Googling my name only to find a high school drama teacher in the throes of a failing Pippin production, a fat bastard who brews his own beer and clearly hasn’t looked into a mirror in a while, and a host of other Johnny Danes who by comparison should have made me feel celebratory but instead only darkened my mood. I moved on, and that’s when I found her website, when I had exhausted myself with searches of football scores, ’62 Impalas and other Johnny Danes. She soared into my head the way she had soared into my dreams so many times before, uninvited and unwelcome. Of course she looked good. Who puts an ugly picture of herself on a website? She was now writing bodice rippers, their covers a lurid blur across my flickering screen, a collage of tint, lace and skin. There it was, another bullet on my growing list of frustrations: I had been dumped by a romance novelist.

So there I sat, reading about Cyril and Morgan, Devon and Lord Stoke. “His face hardened impossibly. ‘Aye, ye tempt me, Brianna. I think aboot succumbing tae ma lust an’ usin’… Read more »