Fiction
“What Rises”
The oldest literary journal in the country and one of the best, I was thrilled when the North American Review asked if they could publish this one.
“…It never stopped. Something always called, down every trail. Something essential. But unknown…”
“Ice Fishing”
My first publication. A story I wrote after freezing my ass off on a frozen lake in Montana’s Pintlar Mountains.
“…It surprises him to look down and see the hole frozen again. he wasn’t paying attention, resting his eyes on the mountains…He shivers. He’ll be all right while the sun’s up, but tonight he’ll need more. It’s already below zero, and after dark it’ll be worse…”
“Bonesaw”
Such a gruesome tool. I’d always wanted to work one into a story. Also, my first time writing about Colorado.
“…The last thing I remember is stumbling over to that rifle. Watching my hands grip the barrel. Pull it from the rack. Fingering the trigger, I cocked the hammer on my way out the door…”
“Seventeen Fences”
A man living off the land in the Alaskan wilderness learns of his father’s death and must decide whether or not to return to civilization.
“…Between Alaska and Dakota there are only seventeen fences…two hundred and twenty-one memories - a runaway mother, a father’s fist. You pass a younger, stronger man heading north…”
“On the Divide”
A man's attempt to tame a wild woman who can't sit still and has her heart set on Alaska.
“…I walked to the door and pushed it open. I’m here. I quit my job. But the cabin was empty…that night she didn’t come back. Or the next. Or the night after that…”
“Brooks Range”
That same wild woman and her struggle between her love for Alaska and her love for the man.
“…Everything in her life had been replaceable. She preferred it that way. Her rusty knives and old rifles… The beat up trucks she drove. Everything. Until him. If she was tired of a place she picked up and left…She'd never had a problem replacing people, either. Never. Until him.”