It’s always a scary little thrill when a poem from a new project drops, so imagine my scare + thrill when Pithead Chapel (one of my favorite journals) published “Everyone Bowed Their Head and Prayed for God’s Blessing” in their latest issue (vol. 14, issue 8, August 2025). This prose poem is from my manuscript in progress, Latchkey. Thanks for taking a look!
I’m no stranger to writing about the 90s, particularly the cusp-of-millennium 90s, but doing it in flash fiction was something new. The Girl with the Black Lipstick is a book about a time and a place and a friendship that encompasses both the mundane and the transcendent. I started out thinking about the odd adventures people would have back when the internet didn’t overshadow us yet. The characters in this novella are as likely to have their noses in a book as they are to be strutting down a fashionable block in white denim booty shorts. (Fun fact–I had to go back and eliminate some of the white denim in this book, having subconsciously dressed my cast in so much that it seemed borderline cultish).
The hardest parts of this book project: sitting with all of the compiled flashes and deciding which to keep, proofing the typeset pages and finding all kinds of new connections (interesting ones, not just excess white denim), and cutting open the box to retrieve my first ever book of fiction (this was hard in a good way–so many emotions slicing open that tape).
As Sarah Freligh so kindly states, “This is a story that feels perfectly suited to the novella-in-flash, a reach back to grab the fragments of who we were in the final year of the twentieth century, to hold them to the light in an attempt to understand what peculiar threads connected us.”
A bit about the book: Against the backdrop of a boozy, restless late-90s Chicago, creative writing graduate student Mary Van Pelt and her eccentric roommate navigate the collision between party life, domestic harmony, and academic ambition in The Girl with the Black Lipstick. Mary Biddinger’s novella in linked flash stories conjures outrageous fashion and the oddest of odd jobs, sparing no detail when immersing readers in bedrooms, dancefloors, lakeshore beaches, and university seminars.
Photo by Satoki Nagata and cover design by Amy Freels.
Set before smartphones filled every pocket, The Girl with the Black Lipstick chronicles a bygone era of performance and spectacle. Biddinger offers vivid, surreal vignettes told in the heat of the moment or recalled as we follow Van Pelt from her first days of graduate school into life as a tenured professor. Our heroine and her roommate overcome predicaments and deepen their bond while simultaneously ignoring and obsessing over the future, blissfully unaware of challenges ahead until those challenges arrive. The Girl with the Black Lipstick is a tale of deep creativity and found family, paying tribute to those who support our youthful selves in unexpected ways.
I always love a book birthday, and this past spring we celebrated one year of A Mollusk Without a Shell: Essays on Self-Care for Writers (University of Akron Press, 2024). It’s been wonderful hearing how this book has been a help for writers of various backgrounds and experience levels, as well as for artists working in other genres. When the first box of books arrived at the University of Akron Press office I had to text co-editor Julie Brooks Barbour right away, as it felt odd to be unboxing without her. Thanks to everyone who has read this book, given it as a gift to a friend, shared it with a student, or dropped us a line of gratitude. Also, major thanks to Rhye Pirie for the gorgeous artwork on the cover!
Before 2023 ends I wanted to share some newly published poems, as well as this photo of grasses on campus, which startled me with their texture (you can’t hear them in the photo, but trust me, their woosh was a delight).
I’m honored to have two prose poems appearing in the new issue of Under a Warm Green Linden, with such brilliant company (including Diane Seuss, James Allen Hall, Jennifer Militello, and so many other stars). I’m tempted to use this issue as a free textbook for my upcoming advanced undergrad workshop–what a collection of poems under one roof. Big thanks to guest editor Simeon Berry.
Recent dream come true moment: a poem published in HAD, “Everyone Rise, the Gavel’s Coming Down.” Gratitude to Evan Nicholls, guest editor for this prose-poem-friendly submission period.
Most of my new year’s resolutions involve making more lists and getting organized, but I’ll add updating this blog to that batch of goals for 2024. In the meantime, happiest new year wishes to all!
I’m so grateful to Nicole Yurcaba for the kind words about Department of Elegyover at Sage Cigarettes. Here’s a snippet:
“Savoring sadness but never giving in to it completely, the poems in Mary Biddinger’s seventh poetry collection Department of Elegy transport readers into the cracks and crevices of youth’s hot insanity and adulthood’s mundanity. Eager for experience and hungry for life, the poem’s speaker consistently examines the fine line between adolescence and adulthood and how those few years we spend standing on the cusp of adulting truly do shape us for the rest of our lives. That’s not to say the speaker doesn’t allow wiggle room for change—they do, but, if anything, the poems remind readers that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with quietly standing for a moment, breathing, and reminding oneself why those late nights in clubs with fake IDs are worth remembering.”
Thank you so much, Nicole!
Big thanks to Jeannine Hall Gailey, as well, for the kind words in her latest blog post. Jeannine describes Department of Elegy as, “a wonderfully nostalgic/anti-nostalgic, goth, reminiscence on a Gen-X childhood and young adulthood punctuated by midwestern vacant lot landscapes and marvelously bad decisions. I am loving it – it might be my favorite book of hers yet, so if you are on the fence, get it.”
If you would like a review copy of Department of Elegy, Black Lawrence Press would be happy to provide one–check out this page.
Here’s the official book trailer for Department of Elegy, thanks to Upside Down Dog Productions.
Here’s the official Spotify soundtrack for Department of Elegy, too. At first I was going to try to make this all covers, but I would have to leave too many important cuts out, so it’s a mix. If possible, listen in order. Enjoy!
I’m excited to be offering a workshop for Black Lawrence Press on Tuesday, 11/9/21. This event is free, but registration is required. Full information here! I’ll be sharing some approaches for reconnecting with poetry, and with your own work.
In this workshop we will ponder our relationship with poems in general, and with our own poems in particular, discussing strategies for approaching difficult subjects, as well as new ways to direct inspiration. We will also talk about a gentle approach to writerly goal-setting, especially as it relates to growing a series of poems into a collection. Q&A will be an important part of the conversation.
Much gratitude to West Trestle Review for including my flash fiction piece “Photos We Didn’t Take in 1998” in their new issue, with such excellent company. This issue also features encaustic art by Chizu Omori. Absolutely stunning!
This story is from my current project, a flash novella about the adventures of two (wild, gothy) grad school roommates in late-1990s Chicago.
If you’re trying to figure out where to take a current project, wondering about ways to grow something new, curious about trends in publishing (including common problems), or just seeking writerly encouragement and community, this workshop is for you.
Workshop description: Ideal for earlier-career poets beginning to generate a body of work, published authors seeking fresh approaches to creating a new manuscript, and writers anywhere in between, this workshop will offer a combination of practical advice and contemplative pondering of a book’s possibilities. The workshop atmosphere will be positive and affirming, and significant time will be dedicated to answering questions from participants.
Mary Biddinger 