The Size of Texas, a chapbook from Penrose Press
The Length of Days, a novel manuscript
Invasives, a short story collection manuscript
The Mightiest Mammal, Singing
Cambridge Short Story Prize Anthology, forthcoming
How It Starts
Ellipsis Zine, October 2018
"He has his collections—always has. Vintage Pez dispensers, magazines hidden under his mattress, notes passed between girls in class."
The Fire She Feels
FlashBack Fiction, October 2018
"Mama always knew there was something about that lightning, even before that old rascal Franklin tied a key to a kite."
When I Was a Fish
Longleaf Review, June 2018
"We decide to dig, to go looking for caskets needing oaks and willows to turn them to dust."
American Standard of Perfection
The Puritan, Fall 2017
"When Jack built that first hutch, Laurie didn’t stop him. But soon, Jack’s hobby meant that Laurie often woke to find a chicken or two or even three lying beside her on the pillow. Once, she turned on the faucet and unwittingly drenched a hen who’d fallen asleep in the tub."
Midwestern Gothic blog, Summer 2017
"Her mother would worry, waking up before dawn in an empty house. But sixty percent water, that’s what she was; that’s what her mother had told her, and she’d awakened to high tide beneath her skin."
Blues Too Bright
The Fiddlehead, Spring 2017
"I’m accustomed to these early-morning bird reports. Mother watches birds like her friends watch soaps and baseball."
Smoke in the Hive
Halo Lit Mag, February 2017
"But you’re not a bee. There’s no secret map you’ve drawn out for me in the patterns on the floor."
The Master Butchers Singing Club
The Puritan - The Town Crier, October 2018
"This fall, I will slip back into these well-worn pages like a child falling into a pile of raked leaves—a joy, a comfort, a shiver of wind, a shudder when a centipede crawls across your ankle."
Phoebe, May 2018
"I will trust my memory in this - how my foot (eight or nine years old, calloused from a barefoot summer) accommodated the thin, silver nail; how the skin encircling the small post, rimmed in pink, stretched around it like a mouth, puckered, as I pulled the metal from my flesh."
Meditations on Motherhood
Thresholds, May 2018
"You wouldn’t expect an octopus to break your heart, but that’s because you don’t know octopus mothers."
The Sun, February 2017
"Within the first ten minutes of the hike, the weight of my brand-new backpack was digging into my shoulders."
Juniper, October 2018
"Take a fence and bite it. When your teeth sink in,
scrape wood fibers (a healthy chunk) into your mouth"
Of Magic & Moses
Pithead Chapel, September 2018
"True, I saw him standing in the street, facing the traffic, lifting his hands & when he did, I thought of magic & Moses"
Mini-Interview with Kate Finegan
By Tommy Dean Writer, November 2018
"It’s an exercise in choosing the most precise details and chipping away at the draft until it has no jagged edges."
Longleaf News: Welcome to the New Editors
Longleaf Review, October 2018
"That’s what I want—a strong narrative voice and a story that has to be told."
Backstory: Five Questions with Kate Finegan
FlashBack Fiction, October 2018
"I was in Charleston when I wrote the piece, rewriting and doing research for my novel, which deals with midwifery and women’s knowledge of their own bodies versus the medicalization of women’s health (and health in general)."
An Interview with Kate Finegan
The Fiddlehead, April 2017
"I was interested in the stories that families pass down from generation to generation, and I wondered what it would be like to find out that the most grandiose, unlikely family legend was actually true. I wondered if, after so many years and in the face of the shocks and struggles of life, it would actually matter."