YA Fantasy, 2008
Fantasy, 2014
I love short fiction. I submit to magazines, anthologies, and release collections of it. I sell some as stand-alone ebook editions on my website. Sometime a story or (maybe more?), can be read free online.
THESE are online free:
- The Maiden Thief (Tor.com)
- Of Roses & Kings (Tor.com)
A selection of others are listed below here.
Additionally, I have contributed an introduction to a recent edition of Frankenstein.
Poetry Commentary, 2024
Adult fantasy, 2009
UPCOMING or Recent SHORT FICTION:
YA Mystery/Thriller, 2019
Sometimes THEY ARE anthologies JUST OF MY STORIES. . .
Sometimes I edit anthologies . . .
YA Fantasy, 2011
There are three essays in three charity anthologies: Things We Haven't Said (Zest Books, the title drawn from her essay about being a rape survivor), Life Inside my Mind (about mental illness), and Nevertheless We Persisted.
Adult Fantasy, 2011
"A King of Cats Comes Homes" November 2025 F(r)iction Magazine:
EXCERPT:
Cats came roiling into the ruins. A seethe of fur and muscle flowed from between trees and broken walls. They came in all their guises. Several sleek panthers moved across the ruins like oil poured from on high. The golden fur of a mountain lion dropped into the clearing like a sudden burst of sunlight into the moonlit expanse.
Cats came roiling into the ruins. A seethe of fur and muscle flowed from between trees and broken walls. They came in all their guises. Several sleek panthers moved across the ruins like oil poured from on high. The golden fur of a mountain lion dropped into the clearing like a sudden burst of sunlight into the moonlit expanse.
Older still than any creature in the court, several toms crouched and leapt to either side of the tom I had met. These were the cat-sìth, faery beasts that didn’t bother trying to appear harmless. With teeth the size of my fingers and eyes that made the moon jealous, they padded toward the tom in his man-guise.
I bowed, keeping my gaze fixed on them. These great cats, faeries the size of bulls, never wore the guise of men. They fought and conquered. They destroyed and devastated. Humans found their remains and called them prehistoric.
Adult Fantasy, 2011
YA Dystopian, 2011
YA Dystopian, 2013
Romantasy, 2025
"The Dubious Ladies of Mirador" July 2025 The Secret Romantics Book of Magic
EXCERPT:
I woke to find an eagle perched on the dresser. The creature had shredded the fine wooden top with its great talons, carving patterns as it studied me. The bird and I had an uneasy truce so far. Admittedly, I was unsure whether the animal was aware of our truce. Being cursed as I am does not grant me the gift of conversing with creatures or much of any true benefit. I do not die. I do not stay injured. Those are certainly assets – heightened senses and strength – but my familial longevity comes with neither magic nor money.
Nonetheless, I like to feel the fresh air when I wake, and the eagle liked to rest indoors. We had an accord of sorts. The beast had fashioned an eyrie atop my wardrobe, a tangle of woven twigs created a frame that was lined with the stuffing from a settee I used to like.
“A bit late today, aren’t you?” I could see the last swaths of red and purple in the sky. The sun was set, and I was awake. My feathered guest had returned to the room she thought of as her own. All was as right as possible in my routine.
And yet I am overcome with sorrow…
The bird made a harsh, guttural noise and then sharp and high. For all I knew, she was answering me – or mocking my maudlin mood. The creature stalked toward her nest and settled in; her gaze was fixed on the cliffside view from my window rather than on me.
Eagles could rip flesh from bone with their knife-edged beaks and talons. I’d watched this one shred a few fish and a small rodent-like carcass efficiently. Still, when she hopped closer to the edge and tilted her head toward me, I dutifully stroked the ridge between her eyes. There were few things that could kill me, and unless the eagle severed my head from my body, anything else was an injury that would heal.
The bird made a low noise that was not a purr, but surely seemed like one.
“I need to go to Helgren, eat, talk to humans.” I stared into the distance, where the lights were tiny beacons. “Soon. Not tonight, but soon.”
The anticipation of talking to someone human was almost as keen as the desire to have a companion for the night. No one warned me that loneliness and longevity were hand in hand companions, but I could see no other option.
Inside, however, I am something Other. Not merely mortal. Who could love me with my madness and peculiar diet?