Letter in The New Yorker
Interview in 200 Women
My letter to The New Yorker
Perhaps if I had been an adult when I first read [Little Women], I would have seen that I’m meant to admire Jo most of all, and that Mr. Bhaer is a noble suitor. But, as a nine-year-old, I wanted to be Amy, not Jo.
Review of Day of All Saints
Interview for the book, 200 Women (Who Will Change the Way You See the World)
Part of being present is also being conscious of what we can do from our positions of privilege.
Interview on Day of All Saints
Review of Day of All Saints in Heavy Feather Review
King’s brevity reaches to encompass the edges of love, war, and impermanence in one graceful, striking sweep. Though one might be skeptical of the ability to address such weighted themes in so few pages, King proves that minimalism amplifies trauma, and even honors it in ways that expounding cannot.
Interview at PhD in Creative Writing
Interview with Yasmine Shamma at Research English At Durham
Martín, a young language school teacher in Guatemala who falls in love with his equally young North American student and follows her back to Chicago, is a character I’ve been thinking about for a very long time.
Interview at Speaking of Marvels
Interview with Kelcey Parker Ervick, on becoming a writer
Writing fiction — much less, pursuing an artist’s life — was not part of the culture in which I was raised…. You didn’t make it if it wasn’t useful, if wouldn’t be for the greater good. We had canning and quilting. And no one called these things "art."
Review of The Death of Carrie Bradshaw
Interview with William Woolfitt, on the particular challenges and joys of writing long stories
At their best, long stories do what novels do: they capture a whole, complex world; they leap across time and space, covering extensive swathes of time and ranging across diverse settings. But the long story does so under the constraints of a much shorter length, an almost necessarily faster pace.
A personal essay from 2011
Review of The Death of Carrie Bradshaw in Her Circle
What feminist hasn’t dreamed of the death of Carrie Bradshaw, that femme fatale of materialism and faux independence?
Why I Write
Telling a story was my first love. Before I could spell my own name, I put books together. The cellar of my parents’ house in North Carolina holds boxes of them: “books” filled with primitive drawings of witches and dragons and queens.