I’ve just finished reading an advanced copy the 25th anniversary edition of New Stories From The South, guest edited by Amy Hempel. My story, Someone Ought to Tell Her There’s Nowhere to Go, which was first published in A Public Space, and will also be in my collection and in this year’s Best American Short Stories, is included in this year’s edition. As a writer, I’m deliriously excited about my forthcoming short story collection, about having a whole book of my words and no one else’s. As a reader though, it’s always a special treat to have your work included in an anthology or a magazine, because you get to see it alongside other people’s work, and to enjoy the surprise and thrill of new words. It’s like instead of hanging around with you all the time, your story got invited to a party, and came home all dressed up and full of news and gossip from the other stories. I am really excited to see my story in such fine company. Brad Watson’s Noon, Ben Stroud’s Eraser, Ann Pancake’s Arsonists, and Marjorie Kemper’s Discovered America have really lingered with me (in a good way) since I read them. Go preorder the book so you can linger with them too.
When I tell people I have a story in this year’s edition of New Stories from the South, they typically say two things, in no particular order 1) Congratulations, that’s great! 2) Since when are you southern?
Depending on my mood, people who ask the second question either get a long, rambling response about home and geography, or a pithy since Kathy Pories and Amy Hempel say so, that’s when.
It’s a fair enough question. Answers I have given to the question “where are you from?” include: New York, DC, Virginia, NORTHERN Virginia, too many places to name, I’m not sure, I’ve had five addresses in the last two years and I don’t know which one you have but I’ve answered 18 security questions so will you please let me access my credit card information before I cry*
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