September 26, 2020
So excited to share the news that my poem, “VS.”, has been nominated for a Best of the Net Award by Nightingale & Sparrow!
September 5, 2020
Thrilled to share the news that I’m now a regular contributor at Versification! I’m so excited to get started and to be included with such a talented and punk rock group of writers. ❤
July 16, 2020
Earlier this year, I entered a writing competition through Booksie.com that hinged on flash fiction stories based on a particular photograph. My entry was a finalist, but ultimately didn’t win. Here’s the photo and the story 😉
A Whim Of Violets
In slats of medium sunlight, Archer watched the world around him slowly come to life.
He found himself in a bustling train station, although he had no idea which city it was in. The fortune teller hadn’t been able to see that far; her reach only extended to what Claudia would be wearing and the year she would be living in.
“The rest is up to you,” the old woman had said, her cloudy eyes regarding him carefully. “In the year 1946, you won’t have access to my shop or to my machine, so you must get it right. In that year, I was a girl of seven. Time travel wasn’t a concept for me then.”
Of course it wasn’t; time travel wasn’t a concept for Archer, either, even though he was a grown man living in the future.
“She won’t look like the Claudia you remember,” the old lady had said, “But there will be something familiar. Some small thing you recognize. Reincarnation has a cheeky sense of humor in that way.”
He had told no one about his plans, obviously. His friends would have thought him utterly mad. They didn’t understand that it wasn’t about the money; the old woman could have asked for a million dollars and he would have found a way to pay it. She had told him things about his Claudia that no one else could know, private things about their relationship. If this didn’t work, he would go home and sleep and forget the old woman existed. He would move on.
Except that wasn’t quite right. The truth was a punch in the solar plexus: home didn’t mean the same thing it once did. It had become dry, used up. Smelling of emptiness rather than warm bread. The bathroom, once redolent of Claudia’s crushed-violets scent, now reeked of chemical cleansers. Her mother’s doing. All the better to scrub away the illness, to mask the suffering cancer brought.
He looked around now, inside the train station, feeling a wave of disorientation crash over him. There was nothing familiar here. He was wearing someone else’s clothing, carrying a stranger’s briefcase. He wasn’t even sure what to look for, apart from a petite blond in white gloves with a handbag slung over one arm.
“Oh, dear. Whatever is the matter?”
Archer turned to find a small, elderly woman looking up at him in concern. She dipped a hand into her bag and brought out a handkerchief, holding it out like an offering, and he realized he was crying.
“That’s very kind,” he said. “I’ve just…I’ve lost my wife.”
The woman smiled and patted his hand. “Happens all the time. This is the largest station in the state, you know. I’m sure you’ll find her momentarily.”
A soft breeze suddenly whispered against Archer’s neck and he closed his eyes. Something familiar, the fortune teller had said. A whim of violets trembled in the air.
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” he said.
May 13, 2020
My latest book of horror poetry, Tall Grass, has been nominated for an Indie Horror Book Award!
In April 2020, Fitzroy Books announced that Amanda’s middle-grade fiction novel, Where Wild Beasts Grow, was selected for publication! The story takes place in a small Appalachian community in Kentucky, where a girl named Shay discovers a wondrous secret about a nearby river and uses her artistic abilities to save her home from developers.
Publication is set for spring of 2022. Check back for updates and news about book signings!