Thursday, June 21, 2012


Thanks to all those at Inwood Indiana for the release of Harvest Time, which contains my story BETH. Page 271. The online copy is available by visiting the website and clicking the “Current Issue” link.  The paperback issue will be forthcoming in several days.

by MaryAnne Kolton

Beth hoped she might at last be unhooked from the shame of her errant father and manipulative mother now that they were both dead, but she soon learned it didn't work that way.  Her depression deepened and the tapes of “not good enough, never will be, just like your father”  refused to be stilled.  Barely audible, they swarmed like gnats around her head.  The non-stop voices of her parents gave her headaches so violent that she was unable to complete the course work for the last semester of her business class.  She failed to eat, lost too much weight and spent days in bed.  She slept the hours away.  Depression settled deep into the pores of her skin. 
At some point during the next three weeks when she crawled out of bed to go to the bathroom, Beth stood in front of the sink and risked a glance at the mirror.  She was shocked by what she saw there.  An emaciated woman of indeterminate age looked out at her.  Filthy hair hanging from her head in clumps, face grey with grime, soiled, tattered pajamas hanging from a skeletal frame.  Beth tilted her head and listened, startled by the near silence.  The voices were so muted she was hardly able to make out what they were saying.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

A Fresh, Compelling, New Voice With An Old Soul: An Interview With Tupelo Hassman

Thanks to Melissa at Her Circle Ezine

A startling debut that is unsettling, curious and heart-winning. In Girlchild: a novel, Tupelo Hassman’s account of Rory Dawn Hendrix’s youth is complete with trauma, redacted diary pages and endearing prose.

Friday, June 15, 2012


Many thanks to Meg and the crew at Connotation Press for publishing this one!

Joellyn started fingering portions of the desserts into her mouth.  Her eyes filled with tears.  The thick, blue-black mascara on her lashes threatened to trail down her all too rosy cheeks.  She ate the sweets, shoving each portion in her mouth and forcing herself to swallow. . .