So thrilled to announce that my novel, You Are Alive, is forthcoming from Civil Coping Mechanisms in 2018! It is an ice age western. It is an ecological disaster. It is isolation and ice and wolves.
I have a story—originally published at Pithead Chapel—in the Best Small Fictions 2016 anthology from Queens Ferry Press, selected by Stuart Dybek. The anthology is available now and has work by Etgar Keret, Kathy Fish, Amelia Gray, and more.
The lovely folks at Noble/Gas Quarterly nominated “In Every Room, A Prayer,” from Smoke, Smoke, Smoke—my manuscript of stories about haunted figures from U.S. history—for the Best of the Net anthology. You can read the story here.
I’m teaching a course on the Apocalypse (Spring 2015). I’ve received interest from folks regarding the readings, focus of the course, etc. I’ve designed this course to deal with not only the idea of the apocalypse, but response to disaster, who is affected by disaster, what it means to anticipate and expect an eschatological event, utopias/dystopias, and more. While a reference to religion will open the course, this is not designed to focus on the spiritual or prophetic aspects of apocalypse. Continue reading
There’s this interview I did you can read. I talk about writing and desolation and extinction and stuff. Check it out.
As ever so kind and gracious, Jill Talbot wrote this recently about Whatever Don’t Drown Will Always Rise:
“Whatever Don’t Drown Will Always Rise reminds me of a scene from Walk the Line, when Johnny Cash (Joaquin Phoenix) plays “Folsom Prison Blues” for the first time, the way he eases, slowly, into it. In three stanzas, we move from tremble to tremor. A fine line between tremble and tremor. And it’s here Justin Lawrence Daugherty sets his stories. Where there’s “nothing anywhere around but sky,” Daugherty shows us the bodies in the backyard, the waitress in the diner, the moon-road shimmers and blackened suns, the nameless boy who carries a sparrow. And he shows us ourselves as grieving shadows. Daugherty creates characters consumed by their own fights, their own failings, and in doing so, he convinces us that the bad is going to happen, is going to come, “caution or not.” In this hardscrabbble world, we’re either going to protect against whatever’s coming or we’re going to stand out in the front yard and howl for it to come. Daugherty’s is a powerful, haunting voice. When I read his stories, I hear the train a comin’. It’s rollin’ ‘round the bend.”