#alex mcelroy

[kolorful-kay-reads]

[mcelroyoftheday]

Mcelroy of the day: June 11th 2018 Alex mcelroy, Author Rating: 14/10 possible 4th brothers

[craigtowens]

Lasting leadership requires us to embrace profitable discomfort. The way to know the difference between profitable and unprofitable discomfort is by observing if your influence is growing or declining. As a leader, your influence should also create or empower others to be influential and walk in their respective purposes.

Alex McElroy

[judgingbooksbycovers]

The Atmospherians: A Novel

By Alex McElroy.

Design by Laywan Kwan.

[kolorful-kay-reads]

[kolorful-kay-reads]

[catapultbooks]

“Sasha and I grew up puking together, at my house, on the days my mother worked late. Our shared self-destruction had brought us together. Our sickness had felt less damaging undertaken in tandem. She says she’s no longer a puker. But I know that she is. It’s not something you unlearn or blunt with a pill. Vomiting is a mindset—inexpugnable—a talent we share. It is what keeps us together: we upset modes of passive consumption. We both reject what we love.”

“Perhaps Also Broken,” a new short story by Alex McElroy.

(via Catapult | Perhaps Also Broken | Alex McElroy)

[mastersreview]

When did the nosebleeds begin? Months before I met Gabe? Weeks? That night? I did get a couple that night. The first came before work—technically during work. I was in the alley behind Raw, ten minutes late to my shift, and leaning my head back so I wouldn’t dirty my shirt. Eric’s car was unlocked, so I got in, knowing there’d be napkins inside. I shifted his rear-view mirror to face me. Thin red streaks crossed my lips like stitches.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. “What’s wrong?” Dad asked, after hellos, the weather.

“Allergies.” Tufts of napkins stuffed my nose.

Eventually, he asked when I planned to come home. Meaning that small town in Delaware. The original state, as he called it. “The east coast wants ya back,” he said. “We got five hundred Hancocks on a petition.”

“You need a thousand,” I said.

“I misspoke. Two thousand. A hundred. Three million and climbing.”

“I have a life here.”

“Wiping tables with your diploma?”

No diploma. But it wasn’t the right time to tell him. “I use the gown.”

“You’re all alone out there.”

So what? I thought. “No one’s alone.”

“Listen, I can get you—I know it’s not what you want—an easy job at the firm. Filing papers, answering phones. You might like it more than Mom did.”

“I need to go,” I said. I hated when he compared me to her.

“What do you say?”

“I’m already employed.”

“Will you consider it?”

“Bye, Dad.” I hung up.

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