Discover Top Posts Tagged with #kj stevens

garden city

Sun on its way down, giving one last burst of hot light before it moves away for the day. Into another time zone. For other people. But I’m not concerned much about other people. Other time zones. Not now. Not today. Not lately. All there is and needs to be is this small world at home. My wife with her feet in the kiddie pool. Sipping wine. Kids running through the sprinkler. Fingers, lips,…

#devotion #family #kj stevens #marriage #middle class life #raising kids

baxter the clown

an excerpt from the short story, Saving Turtles “None of it matters because it’s life. Be a clown. Be a husband. Be a wife. Be a drunk. None of it matters because we’re supposed to keep crossing roads. We’re supposed to keep moving on. The center of life is about location and timing. Like my job. On one side of the road there’s Big Bay de Noc. On the other side, behind the casino, you have a…

#alcholism #devotion #faith #kj stevens #literary fiction #short stories

One brother turns 50. The other turns 47. And you’re the oldest, so you’re ahead in years. Winning a race you’re not sure you want to win. Parents aging. Shrinking. Bodies and worlds—for everyone—growing big and strong and wide and wonder-filled—then slowly closing in. Eventually, you’re 52 with two terrific kids, a graceful wife, a few pets, a happy, consistent, comfortable life, and you wake and stumble just getting out of bed. A shove. A reminder. Stay strong and balanced. Commit. Create. Endure. I sat on the back porch while the dogs stretched, emptied, sniffed up a brand new day. Scrolled Amazon for a water filter while the birds kept calling. It wasn’t until I made the purchase that I snapped out of it. Realized—I got up and was given another last day. Warm and humid, an indicator of what’s to come—more heat. But I’ll take the heat today. Get to the lake later. I’d rather be walking barefoot in the grass sweating than high-stepping through snow. Winter is no longer my friend. If the choice were mine alone, I’d leave it behind. Come back to it on Christmas to pay my respects. Say hi. The Great Lakes Review wrote about DEVOTION. Sara Hailstone, the editor, enjoyed the book. I read it quickly. Didn’t want to feel too good. Get sidetracked. The piece is good for promotional reasons, but mostly I was happy because she read it and felt it. And she reads a lot. Writes a lot. Having someone in the business give the book a quiet nod—it lifts you. We don’t always realize what we’ve got. That none of this will be back. That we won’t return—not in this form. And that’s the thinking one needs to keep—just below the surface. In every situation. Those tense moments on family car trips when no one’s well-rested and everyone’s chasing ideas of a good time. The days when people bullshit you over and over again because they’re sick in the spirit and head. And the nights that finally let you go—heavy, filled with restless dreams—into another hopeful day when all you’ve got to do is put one foot in front of the other. ~ KJ

#aging #family #kj stevens #literary fiction #michigan writers #sobriety #writing about writing

Breaking

~from “Pilgrim’s Bay” We’re at Sammy’s on 2nd Avenue. Sitting in the same ratty old booth we sit in every night from ten to midnight. We are drinking five-dollar pitchers of Lumber Lager Red. “Suckers are runnin’ in Polack Creek,” Jake says. His elbows are on the table, both hands on his beer. Kali’s playing with her hair. Twirling her brown locks round and round with her finger. She…

#alcholism #kj stevens #literary fiction #middle class life #pilgrim&039;s bay #sobriety

The 45th Parallel

We are halfway between the equator and the North Pole. At least that’s what the sign says alongside the road. It is big and green with white block lettering, and it is mounted to two eight-by-eights that are cemented into the ground. Anyone traveling US 23, the single paved vein that connects our harbor to the rest of the world, sees this sign and eight miles later they see another. Pilgrim’s…

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#alcoholism #grief #kj stevens #literary fiction #middle class life #pilgrim&039;s bay #short stories #sobriety

on the opening to "fading"

I write slowly. Not because I’m blocked or unsure—but because I want the words to match the feelings in my gut and the images in my head. I usually have a few stories going at once. I work them, leave them, come back. They always start with an image—a scene—but most importantly, with a feeling. A person seems all sorts of things during the day, but for some reason, only certain moments stir…

#family #grief #kj stevens #literary fiction #marriage #recovery #short stories #writers on writing

stay asleep

A few casts from the dock. A blue spinner. Into water going dark. Temperature drops. Thunder grumbles at the red-and-white pontoon trolling the middle of the lake and at the guy with the farmer tan buzzing past on a wave runner. Still hot, but bearable. The wind disappears. Water goes silent. Even the birds have stopped. And the flies bite. Let Nature do her thing. She knows best—always ahead.…

#creative writing #devotion #family #free write #kj stevens #marriage #michigan writers #writers on writing

second day of summer

Need to start writing about real life. Mine. I’d sell more books. People are asking if DEVOTION is real. It’s not. That disappoints them. The ache, pain, and loss—that engages. Pulls. Gets people digging into their own layers. But when I tell them the stories are only stories, they deflate. They’re hoping the narrators and characters are walking around earth, making their way through mess. In…