Recent Work By Alan Heathcock


Dusk burned the ridgeline and dust churned from the tiller discs set a fog over the field. He blinked, could not stop blinking. There was not a clean part on him with which to wipe his eyes. Tomorrow he’d reserved for the sowing of winter wheat and so much was yet to be done. Thirty-eight and well respected, always brought dry grain to store, as sure a thing as a farmer could be. This was Winslow Nettles.

You’ve been doing a lot of interviews lately?



They always ask the same things, right?

Yep.  They usually start off by pointing out that my work is dark, and then follow with a serious of questions trying to normalize the fact that my work is dark.   I often get a feeling the interviewer is concerned for me.