As I write this, in the midst of a pandemic, I know that so many artists, including myself, feel helpless or self-indulgent, wondering how we can create meaningful work in a time of social isolation, in a world teetering towards fascism and, especially here in the U.S., in a society built on racism and sexism. What kind of stories can we tell as an act of resistance or as a way to heal? I see my work as an artist as an attempt to answer those questions, to create stories that imagine a better world, stories that redefine what it means to be a man, a lover, a family, a community.
While at Headlands
I plan to stock my studio with books by Jericho Brown, Gloria Anzaldua, and Leslie Marmon Silko, strong acidic coffee, my cute fern named Leafy, a record player with all the Joanna Newsom albums; then on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, I plan on editing my two finished novel manuscripts: one about setting fires both literal and metaphorical and the other about legacy and growing old. I will also pull together a manuscript of creative nonfiction essays exploring parenting and identity, as well as a book of playful, randy poems. I also hope to begin a new novel about intimacy, masculinity, and wildflowers.
“LIKE NEEDLE TO RECORD,” XRAY Lit Mag, January 2019
“room to breathe: an essay on competition & toxic masculinity”, The Acentos Review, February 2019
“Two Poems”, Longleaf Review, Summer 2019
Dating and Biking in San Francisco, Pine Hill Review August 2019
Banner image by Rob Moss Wilson