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In the 5th grade, Kristy was interviewed by school counselors who wanted to double-promote her. She told them she wanted to be a writer, probably of mysteries like the Nancy Drew books.
Later, spooked by the possiblity of becoming the next Carolyn Keene, Kristy changed career plans and got an undergraduate degree in psychology, writing mostly research papers or data reports. After stints as a cocktail waitress, research interviewer, and professional note-taker, Kristy returned to creative writing. By finding a way for poetry and fiction to overlap, she was finally freed of the "Nancy Drew Curse" and has been writing ever since.
Her poetry manuscript, Secrets Like Everyone Else has been a finalist in several contests. She has two novel manuscripts circulating at agencies and presses: We All Fall Down and A Year in the Whorehouse of my Dreams. Her work won the AWP Intro Award, the Amelia Prose Poem Award, and has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize by three editors.
A chapbook of her prose poems, Two Girls was called "a magical book full of wild transformations and girl-strong telekinesis" (Denise Duhamel). Maureen Seaton says, "Here are dark redeeming female powers."
Kristy was born in the Motor City and drives an eleven-year old Chevy Sprint. She currently lives in the San Francisco Bay area where she is at work on a collection of short stories.
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After we have sex, my boyfriend says, "A vagina is like a good home." "That's so romantic," I say. I tell him: I think I'm going to cross-stitch that on a small panel surrounded by voluptuous flowers and hang it over the kitchen sink.
"'Do you, Ruth...' the minister asked, and because she was so distracted, so overwhelmed by it all, she didn't answer 'I do.' But in the same loving, devoted voice she would have used to say 'I do,' she looked at Dennis and said, 'I'm pregnant.' Aside from the various sinus-draining activities of the asthmatics and allergics, the church was completely silent. ( . . . ) Then he was gone and the flowers settled in the calm after the doors swung shut. Ruth, being both pregnant and understandably upset, moved to the nearest urn of flowers and vomited. The minister, who discovered only that day that he had allergies, sneezed into his open Bible. From the back of the church, a chorus of asthmatics called out, 'God bless you.'" |
Chapbook Selections:
Princess Winter-Spring- Summer-Fall
A Year in the Whorehouse of My Dreams
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