Essays

“Weathering.” Door Is A Jar Issue 25. Print. December 2022.

Woodland Beach, scattered with driftwood, was Tess’s favorite place to hunt for sea glass; we scoured the beach carrying gray plastic Walmart bags. We swam with our clothes on. I had never thought of swimming here, Tess said, relieved her feet did not touch the bottom, treading water above sand and rocks and broken glass. Through sepia-tone glasses, I watched pearls of water slide down her face, illuminated, glacial. A movie, only disturbed by the nuclear powerplant on the horizon.

“A Part of Me.” JMWW. February 2022. Featured in the Memoir Monday newsletter.

Burning the Rat’s photo felt like any other memory from that summer—Hannah and me getting ice cream, walking to the park at night, catching fireflies. Hannah and I caught and released them over and over again, so salty air and childhood ritual vibrated through our bodies, feeling at once transcendent and as real as a blade of grass pulled from the earth. We freed them after a few loving moments, savoring their beauty but knowing we could not control their fire.

“Witches’ Sabbath” by Jacques de Gheyn II.

“Jet Ski.” Ligeia Issue 6. January 2021.

Later that night, the three of us went for a walk on the beach by our hotel. I broke away from my mom and brother, walking faster, drawn by the lights of hotels and restaurants stretching into the distance, all down the shore. I wondered how long I could keep walking down the beach, where I might end up if I walked all night.

“Persistence of Vision.” Grub Street vol. 66. Print. Winner of the 2017 CSPA Gold Circle Awards for essays in magazines. 

The first time you came to my house you wore a cape. A dumb Harry Potter cape, and it blew in the wind behind you as we walked home. I told you to take it off, you were embarrassing me. But you didn’t. You kept singing songs from musicals and marching over snowcaps. I smiled and realized it was the first time I had brought a boy home, but it was you. You were big-mouthed and swinging, refusing to give in.

"Sleep Study." Grub Street vol. 64. Print. Runner-up for the 2015 CSPA Gold Circle Awards for essays in magazines.

This was around the time that I stopped watching movies because they made me think about unhappy things. It was around the time when I craved sweet smelling skin under my cultivated blankets. It was around the time that I lost my desire to see the sun rise.

Interviews and Reviews

“A Conversation with Shze-Hui Tjoa.” The Adroit Journal issue 51, October 2024.

This book is great at subtly reflecting on the ways that storytelling can both obscure and reveal truth. I especially found it interesting because the essays are not literally perfect—as the reader, I understand that there’s a lot of nuance in these stories, that the narrator is holding multiple truths at once. But then you show us the real truth, which is maybe a bit more embarrassing or messy or difficult.

Interview with Amy Berkowitz. Full Stop, January 2024.

I came away from this book feeling the power of connection between women who found refuge within each other, in relationships that transcend hierarchy. A community of women who help and care for each other, who trust one another with their frustration, their anger, and their art. Something worth writing about. 

“Night Rooms Examines the Horror in the Everyday.” So to Speak blog, August 2021.

Reading Night Rooms transported me to the dim orange light of my childhood bedroom. At fifteen, I spent my nights poring over The Rough Guide to Cult Movies—its sections labelled Euro Horror and The Devil—circling titles, planning my next trip to the video store. As I read Gina Nutt’s atmospheric, structurally inventive essays, I remembered seeing movies like Suspiria and Rosemary’s Baby for the first time, the recognition and bewilderment that followed.

“On Things We Didn't Talk About When I Was a Girl: A Conversation with Jeannie Vanasco.” So to Speak blog, December 2020.

I’m interested in how your book fits in with the #MeToo movement, but also adds a layer of complexity. You wrote that your story is interesting because you’re exploring new territory and you’re interviewing the perpetrator. In the last few years, I’ve heard writers, readers, and editors say that they’re tired of reading about sexual assault after #MeToo. Or people will say that in order to write about it, you have to do something that’s new, innovative, or different.

Fellowships and Awards

Good Contrivance Farm Writer's Retreat Scholarship, "The Sidelong Self" essay workshop with Lia Purpura.

George Mason University Thesis Fellowship in nonfiction, 2020-2021 academic year.