by Jocosa Wade | Sep 15, 2021 | Writing Practice
Pinch me was the only thought in Jeandarc’s head while she watched the gallery door open, again and again, for more patrons. Yesterday, she turned twenty-eight; Today, she was celebrating the opening of her first New York Art Show. She worked hard to get here. But she...
by Jocosa Wade | Sep 8, 2021 | Writing Practice
If he hadn’t deserved it, Jeandarc would never have cut her brother in half. But he did, so she did— no regrets. She might’ve responded differently at another time, but an eight-year-old mind is a reactionary thing. Hannibal, her fourteen-year-old brother, had been...
by Jocosa Wade | Sep 1, 2021 | Writing Practice
Whenever I dip into childhood memories Mary Creswell appears. Waiflike with a bob of straighter than straight black hair and a covetable pointed nose. Every time she cried it sounded like she was laughing. The oldest of what would be six sisters— Irish twins, all— she...
by Jocosa Wade | Aug 25, 2021 | Writing Practice
Patrick flinched from the glare in the rearview. “Jesus Christ, lady.” It had to be a woman. Women were constant over-users from high beams to perfume. No sense of moderation. He flipped the mirror to reduce the glare and discovered the true source of his...
by Jocosa Wade | Aug 18, 2021 | Writing Practice
It was a June Cleaver-Donna Reed morning. Breakfast was eaten around the table with my father and mother. My older siblings had already left for school. Pink grapefruit coated with sugar lingers on my mind and tongue. I’d just swapped the grapefruit for a bowl of...
by Jocosa Wade | Aug 11, 2021 | Writing Practice
Fane Harrison lingers outside the door to the studio behind the box office, housed in one of a dozen red longhouses that belong to the Black Hills Playhouse in Custer State Park, South Dakota. She arrived six weeks ago, her undergrad diploma still warm in her...
