Writings

A collection of short stories, articles, and ramblings and rants by Julie E. Justicz
October 11, 2019
Butchering Eels
October 11, 2019

I dreaded the moment for years... What will my mother think when she reads it? Will she view my story as a betrayal?

Read More
October 1, 2019
Where Writers Write: Julie E. Justicz
October 1, 2019

A (Storage) Room (Not) of My Own

Read More
September 27, 2019
A Novel Training Guide: Writing Tips from a Mediocre Marathoner
September 27, 2019

Savannah, Georgia, January 1985. Slate sky, a blustery wind, cold rain not out of the question as several hundred runners huddled at the starting line. My first marathon comprised two loops of flat and unforgiving runways at Hunter Airfield, adding up to a foot and mind-numbing 26.2 miles.

Read More
January 12, 2019
The Poetry Garage
January 12, 2019

Traffic snarled at Dearborn and Madison. Ten minutes before Margie could squeeze her scrappy 2002 Honda into the backlogged buses, bullying cabs, and ubiquitous Uber drivers.

Read More
May 28, 2014
Bahamaland
May 28, 2014

The fresh catch that landed mid-October came not from England, like her predecessors, but from a tiny Welsh hamlet. In every other way, she fit the species of teachers Dede was accustomed to: early twenties, glue-white, and completely overdressed for the island school.

Read More
April 1, 2013
Partial Deletion
April 1, 2013

Benjy never lasted at any of the group homes. Dad pulled him out of the first one, the only residential facility in Georgia for the profoundly challenged, when he was twelve. He’d been there about two months,

Read More
July 10, 2012
Lap swimming at Ridgeland Pool in Oak Park
July 10, 2012

Cap on, goggles raccooning my eyes, I stand shivering in the shallows, and then hop in place, hop a little deeper, but still refuse the jolt of full submersion.

Read More
June 28, 2012
Significator
June 28, 2012

Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, untied the silvery tendrils of the scarf and pulled back the four corners, one by one, to reveal the Tarot. She let the scarf drop next to Ivy on the smooth marble steps and began shuffling,

Read More
September 2, 2011
Grief doesn't end. It evolves
September 2, 2011

Thirty-one years ago, my brother Clive, age 19, killed himself. He reached onto the shelf in my parents' closet, uncovered the handgun Dad kept for protection, and shot himself through the temple.

Read More
facebook icontwitter icongoodreads icon