LIFE AND ALL OF ITS VIOLENCE: An Interview with Alex Kazemi
A shocked reaction to this work really just makes my point about why I wrote this novel. It’s all so obvious, and I’m bored to death.
Rebecca Gransden
Rebecca Gransden lives on an island. She is published at X-R-A-Y, Burning House Press, Expat Press, Bruiser, BULL, and Ligeia, among others. A new edition of the novella Figures Crossing the Field Towards the Group is released May 2025 at Tangerine Press.
THAT IDEAL READER IS ME: An Interview with Andrew Weatherhead
You wouldn’t go back in time, but you would stay forever in the present moment. At least that’s how the dream went.
ACTUALITY IN ACTUALITY: An Interview with Chase Griffin
Christina was the John Swartzwelder and Kurt Vonnegut of this book – all of the funniest scenes and lines with the best comedic timing are hers.
XRAY SPECS: Butcher, Baker, Nightmare Maker
This film is a Freudian’s dream. The way Cheryl constantly offers him milk isn’t exactly subtle.
I WROTE IT ONLY FOR YOU: An Interview with Joshua Mohr
At its essence, this story is about existential amnesia. What do we need to remember? What do we want to remember? And what’s the difference between them?
SEX IS SECONDARY: An Interview with Matthew Binder
In retrospect, it’s obvious to me that I’m writing about my desire to feel a part of something greater than myself. I know that’s an impossibility, however.
X-R-A-Y SPECS: All-American Murder
All-American Murder isn’t bad, but it’s almost an extraterrestrial product, a movie made for humans by something that has no relationship to the physical universe.
MORE WRITERS SHOULD JUST BE DOING THIS FOR FUN: An Interview with Tyler Dempsey
Everyone believes there’s something more out there. And if we were just braver, had more time/money/whatever, we’d Don Quixote it up.
SARAN WRAP MAGIC: An Interview with Amy Cipolla Barnes
Where neighbors handed warm zucchini bread over fences, a 10-year-old drove me around a farm in a rusty truck, and I most likely met a serial killer.
X-R-A-Y SPECS: BLOODY NOSE, EMPTY POCKETS
Like Terminators or cockroaches, dive bars will always rise again. They’re one of the last bastions of organic and spontaneous social connection.