Greetings. You probably know me or you wouldn't be here, but I'll introduce myself. My name is Anne Elliott. I'm working on a collection of short stories called LIGHT STREAMING FROM A HORSE'S ASS, and rather than letting all my untamed thoughts find their way into the manuscript, I decided to share them here.
My collection is about artists. Which I used to consider myself. I even studied it formally, and have an acid-free master's thesis gathering dust in the stacks at UC San Diego. Now I'm more of a hobbaholic. It becomes compulsive, taking on new projects--oh, I think I'll write a book. Then I'll knit a sweater. Maybe I'll paint this chair. What if I cut up all my clothes and then put them back together to make new clothes? So I end up with a bunch of dismantled clothes, neatly folded on top of a stack of books I really want to read, next to plants I have been meaning to transplant outside, next to a needy dog who really wants a cookie. My husband is very patient. My parents were too. I probably pissed off a few roommates along the way.
My husband is a musician and is studying to become a veterinary technician. (I enjoy saying "Vet Nurse" with a German accent.) I work as a database "architect" (my god what an ass title) and risk-assessor at a hedge fund. I enjoy talking on mic at NYC bars and coffeehouses, and occasionally play my ukulele. In other incarnations, I published handprinted chapbooks as Big Fat Press, and was a member of the postfeminist performance team, The Pussy Poets.
I finished a novel, STARVING HYSTERICAL NAKED, and have been trying to place it. Like most introverted writers, I find the making part way more fun than the selling part.
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