Is this you? As a journalist, you can create a free Muck Rack account to customize your profile, list your contact preferences, and upload a portfolio of your best work.
Claim your profile
Articles by Jeanann Verlee
"Helen Considers Leaving Troy" by Jeanann Verlee
after a bottle of chianti Don’t mistake me, I’ve pondered this before. But tonight I’m serious. One bottle and the end is certain. Tomorrow: Lawyer. Boxes. Road map. More wine. while walking the dog Paris won’t even notice. I’ll feed the pup, pack a quick bag, take out the trash, and slip away into the night. Home to Sparta. Or Santa Monica. An island off the southernmost tip of Peru. Disappear. Like fog from a mirror. while paying the bills Guess I’ll have to give up that whole new career plan.
Helen Considers Leaving Troy
Helen Considers Leaving Troy - after a bottle of chianti
Helen Considers Leaving Troy
Helen Considers Leaving Troy - after a bottle of chianti
A Dossier of Red Flags: Literary Encounters with (White, Straight, Cis) Men | VIDA: Women in Literary Arts
I was eleven years old the first time I submitted my writing for literary consideration: a state-wide short fiction contest open to all middle and high school students. I was the youngest person in my school but I had big dreams and big determination. I spent weeks working on an adventure story about an independent young girl surviving on her own after fleeing her troubled home. The story was promptly rejected.
Dear Crazy | The Offing
Throughout July, The Offing observes National Minority Mental Health Awareness Month with a spotlight, across genres and departments, on work that considers the intersections of race, ethnicity, gender and gender identity, sexual orientation, and mental health and illness. This is one of our spotlighted works. If I told you that you’ve won, would you leave me alone? I overworked myself into a manic episode — the biggest one yet — and I didn’t even know it was happening.
communion - [PANK]
I know a boy who called his girlfriend’s body a “crime scene.” Dad, my body is a crime scene. My body is lint and gasoline and matchstick. My body is a brush fire. It’s ticking, Dad, a slow alarm. I have rain boots. Lots of them. It isn’t raining anymore. The words are coming back, Dad. The way they fit and jump in the mouth. I want ice cream and long letters. I want to read long love letters but I don’t think he loves me. I think I’m used up.
Show More
loading
Actions
Is this you?
As a journalist, you can create a free Muck Rack account to customize your profile, list your contact preferences, and upload a portfolio of your best work.Get in touch with Jeanann
Contact Jeanann, search articles and posts on X, monitor coverage, and track replies from one place.
Learn more about Muck Rack