November Paper Boat
falling leaves and failing light...
The new month has rolled in a windy day that has shook all the trees of their leaves and delivered GHOST BOX, a very fun book art project that includes poems, fauxtographs, illustrations and more in its strange little box. You can find it in the shop as one of only 25 in the limited edition while they last, or take advantage of the free e-zine version available HERE.
COMING NOVEMBER 30th
The proofing process is underway for this little missive to be delivered into the world by the end of the month with all of its shattered decrepitude. Post-pandemic society, grief, loss, and the perils of technology all play a role in this collection set amid the wreckage of the world we once believed we lived in. Keep an eye on social media and next month’s Paper Boat for more details and sneak peeks.
DESIGN & DIY WRITING
Lots of fun with vintage and thrifted items this past month:
How to Know if Your Ginger Jar is Valuable (And if it’s Truly Authentic)
The Eclectic Curtain Look That Gives Your Home An Instant Boho Feel
Breathe New Life Into An Old Door With A Creative DIY Storage Idea
The Best Place To Use A Curio Cabinet In Your Home (& How To Style It Like A Designer)
Upcycle Old Glass Bottles Into A Unique And Charming Garden Fence
Upcycle An Old License Plate Into A Unique Storage Shelf That Makes A Statement
Repurpose A Thrift Store Blanket Into A Stunning Piece Of Wall Art
NEW WORK
from THE MIDNIGHT GARDEN:
fair evangeline
Every night, she buried him. Dug through roots and rotted leaves, fingers seeking out each tiny node and pebble. Trouble in her veins, the low treble of his wheeze. She’d dig him up, then roll him up and down the stairs. He was lighter in the summer, less prone to raging. His pockets stuffed full of photographs and aging starlets, but he’d swallow enough gin to drown himself. Down the hatch and up to bed, where he’d bruise her thighs with dirty fingers. First, she took his bones, one by one, then his heart. Replaced it with a bloody dove. A glove filled with sand. By fall, his eyes sprouted belladonna and bloomed mad like irises. His lips producing exquisitely crooked pearls.
Her mother was the first to see the fingers. Wriggling up from the ground. The midnight garden wild with night blooms and the scent thick as molasses. Grass and mud on her heels each night as she donned the shovel and took to digging. The rigging of the body growing used to movement, to the labor she’d finish by dawn. In town, she bought sweets she’d pop into her mouth, dirty and exhausted and sleeping past afternoon. Flirted with men in the apothecary who climbed the magnolia tree and peered over the gate.
The children collected dead things, the skulls of sparrows, the hide of a rabbit tanned in the sun. What fun they had with a set of antlers caught in a storm drain. Would place them atop their heads and race up the stairs. Would drape themselves in rotting leaves and nightshade, breath held tight in their beds.
@ THE BLOG
I give a rundown on my favorites this year on the big screen in a 2024 horror film roundup and talk a bit about the impetus behind the title and ideas that form the structure of my upcoming full-length book, RUINPORN, with the houses we haunt.
IN THE SHOP
Look for a host of new installments in the dgp chapbook series, including books from Lindsay Schaffer, Susen James, Elizabeth Devlin, Angela Acosta, and more…visit www.dancinggirlpress.com