WILL WILLOUGHBY, WRITER AND EDITOR
I'm a writer who makes a perfectly respectable living as an editor. My short fiction, populated with characters facing absurd, tragicomic situations, appears in Epiphany, Pangyrus, MIDLVLMAG, Defenestration, and elsewhere. I've been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net.
I earned what turned out to be a useful English degree from the University of New Hampshire and now live in southern Maine with my wife, my daughter, and our potato-colored hound, Charlie.
Check out the featured stories below. If you like my stuff, please spread the word. You can even buy me a coffee if you want to.
"The author gets in one last vent about overtrimmed captions, inverted sentences, Capitalized Things diminished by an unseemly down style. By the end of the rant, he's sated, almost tranquil. He doesn't say goodbye when he hangs up, but at least it's over. He's blown his wad. He's fine. For now, anyway."
"I can’t help her. I can’t stop what’s happening. But I do things. I buy groceries, wash the clothes, pick up her meds. She spends her days in bed while a glacier of blankets builds up, layer by layer, around her."
"Dejected and haunted, our protagonist slouches over the cold, dingy sinkwater and imagines an ocean someplace far from his unremarkable life."
"It's a nice slide deck. Ginormous graphs. Crushing overall length. It's the verbiage itself. It's too—what's the word?—too comprehensible.”
"There's a sleeper down in the theater. I've seen them before, these sleepers, and never know what to do."
"The café itself isn't disgusting. It has everything required by Maine state law: charming brick walls, a heady dark-roast smell, soulful people slouched over laptops."