Tag Archives: Corporeal Clamor

S1:E3 “Moonlight”

I see now that it was a mistake. I saw it the moment she stepped through, that I was somehow both over and underprepared, and badly. Tala’s off duty look was unchanged from her service call uniform. Jeans, boots, vest, a blue and grey checked flannel, hair a dark halo around her shoulders. I chose a maroon skort for the occasion, thinking it would be ironic, but as she stood in the doorway, the corduroy chafed at my thighs. When I moved to take her vest, she shrugged it off and hung it on the coat rack herself.

Tala was the kind of girl I used to follow around at school, silently willing her to let me carry anything, literally anything, like a backup stick of gum – the girl who gave a half smile like she knew I was there but didn’t actually mind, nor would she strike up a conversation.

“Hey,” she said. She put her hands in her pockets, and grinned, and I saw that I had been staring.

“Please,” I mumbled, and gestured behind me. “Sit anywhere.”

She paused long enough for me to see what she saw, that the coffee table was a tiny island of sanity in this house, and the fact that I hadn’t been able to see that clearly for myself was only the beginning of what I missed. The books stacked high along the edges of the living room wall, the unopened mail, the layer of dust – these were all things that might have passed as eccentric, and that was fine, but the wine and candles seemed ridiculous, no, presumptuous, which was just –

“How’s the piano?” She stood at the piano, one hand on the lid, peering up at the gash in the ceiling. “Seems like you dodged a bullet.”

I flinched. “It’s fine.” Crossed my arms, fixed my eyes on the wall.

Read the third episode of my fiction series at Corporeal Clamor here.


Publications

S1:E2 “The Introvert’s Guide to Impeachment,” Corporeal Clamor

S1: E1 “Lock Her Up, Corporeal Clamor

These Days, Corporeal Clamor.

You are the Rest of Us, Corporeal Clamor.

Over Everything, Corporeal Clamor.

Test Tank, Corporeal Clamor.

You say, write something hopeful, Corporeal Clamor.

Make a Little Birdhouse in Your Soul, Corporeal Clamor.

You Can Do Anything, Corporeal Clamor.

The Right to Bare Arms, ENTROPY Magazine.

Still Gonna Do (#ShePersisted), The Manifest-Station.

Postage

LeighHereNow

PO Box 27771

Philadelphia, PA

19118, USA

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NEWS / New position @ Corporeal Writing

I’m thrilled to share that for the next six months, I’ll be the new Curator and Editor of “Corporeal Clamor,” a weekly literary publication at Corporeal Writing, the online teaching home of bestselling author Lidia Yuknavitch. I’ve invited three brilliant writers to join me as monthly columnists, and I’m beyond grateful to Lidia Yuknavitch and Zinn Adeline for creating new territories for women’s voices in this world.

Here’s more about the writers who will be joining me:

megan-ainsworth_bio-e1509649768665.jpgMegan Ainsworth is a Southern United States essayist and memoirist who teaches writing and literature at a community college in Jackson, Mississippi. Her work has been published in the Brick Street Press 2008 and 2010 Short Fiction Anthologies, on Elephant Journal, The Good Men Project, and on her blog site; she was a finalist in the “Lorian Hemingway Short Fiction Competition.” Madgirl Elegies is a six month installment column for Corporeal Clamor. She is interested in gender politics and race relations, particularly at the intersection of faith and spirituality in the Deep South. She shares a home with a precious and precocious four year old daughter, three rescue pups, and a fish named Steve. She is completing a memoir and a novel-length work of fiction. Read Megan’s first piece, “Rebel Yell,” here.

Amital_bioAmital Stern writes theater, film and more in Jerusalem. She earned an M.A. in Comparative Literature from Hebrew University, and studied screenwriting at the Sam Spiegel School of Film and Television. Her plays include: In Waiting, winner of the Fred Simmons Arts Prize; Hunger Artist, performed at the Theatronetto Festival, Jerusalem Fringe Festival, Arab-Israeli Theater and other venues; Aliza, a site specific theater production now haunting abandoned buildings in Jerusalem. Her writing has appeared in Guernica. She is currently working on her first novel.

Shefali_BioShefali Desai is a child of the American southwest, daughter of Indian immigrants, mother of sons, fighter/writer/lawyer, and a lover of mountains, forests and bodies of water. She has been a Rhodes Scholarship finalist, Arizona Supreme Court law clerk, and VONA fellow. Her book-length manuscript was selected by Lidia Yuknavitch as a finalist in the Kore Press Memoir Competition, and her work has been published widely including in Ms. Magazine, the UCLA Women’s Law JournalKartika Review, and the anthology This Bridge We Call Home. She currently is co-authoring a legal paper on federal and state regulatory power over so-called sanctuary cities, litigating an asylum case, and finalizing her hybrid memoir. She lives in the Sonoran Desert with her partner and two children.

Finally, I’ll be writing a new column, a hybrid of short fiction and music. Read all of the pieces in my last series, Secret Circus, HERE.


Publications by Leigh Hopkins

These Days, Corporeal Clamor.

You are the Rest of Us, Corporeal Clamor.

Over Everything, Corporeal Clamor.

Test Tank, Corporeal Clamor.

You say, write something hopeful, Corporeal Clamor.

Make a Little Birdhouse in Your Soul, Corporeal Clamor.

You Can Do Anything, Corporeal Clamor.

The Right to Bare Arms, ENTROPY Magazine.

Still Gonna Do (#ShePersisted), The Manifest-Station.

Postage

PO Box 27771
Philadelphia, PA
19118, USA

Subscribe

To receive blog updates, subscribe to LeighHereNow.