betson, ohio

To say I’ve been trying to write about the Ohio I grew up in ever since growing up there is an understatement. I’ve tried nonfiction, to varying degrees of success, but the only way I seem to be able to come at the complexity of the land and its people, the simultaneity of destructive cults and thriving forests taking root, is through fiction.

Betson is my mirror dimension, a place my memories don’t have to be accurate, where they can feel like it felt for me without sticking to the facts. It’s also a town full of people I’ve come to love in my ten years writing stories centered here, and one I’m going to be sharing a lot more of very soon.

I’ve published some work in the past: a story called “The Goat Hunters,” excerpts from a labyrinthine boarding house passed through generations of family, an odd chronicle about a steer dead on the road in 1857. To say the least, there’s a lot more where this stuff comes from, and I’m so excited to be publishing it in a more logical, organized collection.

I’ll be sharing out all the work here first. I’m a firm believer in getting feedback from my immediate community, seeing how my writing hits or doesn’t. From there, we’ll see where I take it next, but stay tuned to see the stories here first.