D. J. Reddall
Bio
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Achievements (15)
Stories (896)
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The Nereid
She was a word on the blank page of that evening. I haven’t given many “readings,” but I have taught many classes. If you engage your students in conversation in the classroom, you notice that those who are actually paying attention make their interest apparent. Something about their demeanor, the mood of their gaze, reveals them.
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Fiction
That's Not Why
Understanding is Only required by one Of the forms of love
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
The Quibbler
He couldn't keep up with the grading. The papers multiplied like hamsters. So many were generated by ChatGPT and its ilk, he could tell after reading a single sentence that the remainder of the paper would be synthetic swill. Most citations were fictional. Title pages abounded, though the holy edict of The MLA Style Guide forbade them.
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Fiction
400
Four hundred stories Poems, essays, articles Your eyes give them life
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
The Ghost Writer
Molly had flourished in graduate school and published many peer-reviewed articles deconstructing modern Irish poetry and fiction; she was especially fond of revealing the links between Yeats and experts in, and practitioners of, the occult. Despite her successes, once she defended her PhD to broad acclaim and began exploring the job market, her heart sank. Tenured positions were as rare as sapphires; she scrambled to find contract teaching and editing work, just to keep starvation at bay.
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Fiction
