Tessera

Ivy Grimes @ivygrimes.bsky.social · yesterday

"When I try to plan ahead or tackle the concept of something intellectually before I write it, those are almost always the projects I abandon. I try to embrace the long periods of writing droughts as necessary to the eventual and inevitable flood of ideas and stories." -@anniejowrites.bsky.social

Interview with Anna Vangala Jones

Turmeric & Sugar, editing, the inevitable flood of ideas

ivygrimes.substack.com

Melissa Ostrom @melostrom.bsky.social · 3h ago

“That’s my favorite way to create, finding the path as I’m on it…” Check out @ivygrimes.bsky.social’s wonderful interview with @anniejowrites.bsky.social!🩷📚

Ivy Grimes@ivygrimes.bsky.social · yesterday

"When I try to plan ahead or tackle the concept of something intellectually before I write it, those are almost always the projects I abandon. I try to embrace the long periods of writing droughts as necessary to the eventual and inevitable flood of ideas and stories." -@anniejowrites.bsky.social

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · 23h ago

like a solar eclipse I too want lots of attention & fuss over me but also do not want people to look directly at me

Dan Crawley @danbillyc.bsky.social · yesterday

"New, old, serious, funny, sad, terrifying, surreal, realistic, very short, very long—there is such a wide range of short story writers out there, past and present, and you should be reading them...." I really LOVE this interview with @anniejowrites.bsky.social by @ivygrimes.bsky.social 💙💙💙

Ivy Grimes@ivygrimes.bsky.social · yesterday

"When I try to plan ahead or tackle the concept of something intellectually before I write it, those are almost always the projects I abandon. I try to embrace the long periods of writing droughts as necessary to the eventual and inevitable flood of ideas and stories." -@anniejowrites.bsky.social

Sabrina Hicks @sabrinahicks.bsky.social · yesterday

“I tend to view my family as like this sacred vault that I leave alone when it comes to my fiction. But past friendships or relationships or jobs or travels or strangers I shared a train ride with or chatted with at the grocery store are all fair game.” Same! ❤️ this by @anniejowrites.bsky.social

Ivy Grimes@ivygrimes.bsky.social · yesterday

"When I try to plan ahead or tackle the concept of something intellectually before I write it, those are almost always the projects I abandon. I try to embrace the long periods of writing droughts as necessary to the eventual and inevitable flood of ideas and stories." -@anniejowrites.bsky.social

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · yesterday

the wonderful Ivy Grimes read my book and asked me some questions about it + my thoughts on editing, community, & more

Ivy Grimes@ivygrimes.bsky.social · yesterday

"When I try to plan ahead or tackle the concept of something intellectually before I write it, those are almost always the projects I abandon. I try to embrace the long periods of writing droughts as necessary to the eventual and inevitable flood of ideas and stories." -@anniejowrites.bsky.social

Thirty West Publishing @thirtywestph.com · yesterday

An indie book is new to someone every day!

Ivy Grimes@ivygrimes.bsky.social · yesterday

"When I try to plan ahead or tackle the concept of something intellectually before I write it, those are almost always the projects I abandon. I try to embrace the long periods of writing droughts as necessary to the eventual and inevitable flood of ideas and stories." -@anniejowrites.bsky.social

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · 2w ago

excited to be in @havehashad.com again with a tiny micro about a bar for ghosts. grateful to @aaronburch.bsky.social + any of you who read it 💀 🍻 👻 www.havehashad.com/hadposts/whe...

at the top is a drawing of skulls
Title: Where Everybody Knows How You Died
Author: Anna Vangala Jones
Text of story: I like to ghost watch as I nurse my scotch. It's funny, scotch made me cough and sputter when I was a person but the burn is nice now—the warmth makes you feel alive. The bar is crowded tonight. Hit & Run Victim is arm wrestling Bungee Jump Splat (he tried to be known as Thrill Seeker but we were all too hung up on the splat.) Choked on a Chicken Wing While Living Alone is sitting at the piano, hands hovering over the keys but not touching them. Leaned Too Far Over the Yellow Line to See if the L Train Was Coming & Fell Onto the Tracks at the Exact Wrong Moment is dancing by herself, swaying to the music Choked on a Chicken Wing isn't playing. Fell Asleep & Didn’t Wake Up asks me if he can bum a cig so I go join him for a smoke. He knows I'm Abducted, Buried in the Woods, & Never Found but is polite enough to pretend he thinks I'm Lung Cancer. He asks if I ever miss it. Life, I'm assuming. I don't answer. Me neither, he says. We cheers with our cigarettes and look up at the night sky as mist floats through the moonlight.

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · last mo.

this is my first time ever being selected for the Wigleaf Top 50! so thrilled & delighted. thank you to @sudhab.bsky.social, Scott Garson + the @wigleaf.bsky.social team, @andrewporter01.bsky.social, @aaronburch.bsky.social, & @havehashad.com 💀 🪦 🤍

The Wigleaf Top 50 (Very) Short Fictions

Series Editor: Sudha Balagopal — "Writers produced an astonishing treasure trove of stories this year..."

Selecting Editor: Andrew Porter — "Occasions such as this always feel like a gift to me..."

Anna Vangala Jones story “Our second date was meant to be unconventional and unromantic” from HAD was selected

At the top of the page is a drawing of a pile of skulls. Underneath is the pub date: September 4, 2025. Then the title of the story and the name of the author: Our second date was meant to be unconventional and unromantic by Anna Vangala Jones.
Below that is the text of the story: “—we thought we were funny when we suggested meeting at the laundromat because we bonded on the first date about putting it off so long we'd almost reached the bathing suits as underwear stage. But when he called to cancel, I worried I should have held onto my mystique a bit longer and not revealed the lazy mess lurking beneath my put together surface yet. "It's not that," he said. "I have to go to a funeral." After I told him how sorry I was, he said, "Want to come?" I joked, "It's too soon but take me to the next one." I appreciated the earnest vulnerability of his response that he could use the company so I said yes. My friends teased me that we'd only been on one date so maybe he was a serial killer and we would be going to my funeral. Weird how we cope with the possibility of being murdered every time we meet someone new by laughing about how hilarious it'll be if it happens, but it's preferable to being paralyzed by it. "He loves Bruce Springsteen, so he can't be that bad," I told them. The funeral was for his lifelong friend—they had first met at only five years old—so it was of course sad. We held hands as they lowered the casket. After everyone else left, we wandered the cemetery chatting about everything and nothing like we were at a coffee shop and he kissed me in front of a tombstone that read, "Beloved and remembered. Until we meet again." He ghosted me after that. When I listen to Bruce at the laundromat, I wonder why our first and last kiss happened amidst graves and death and almost write him to ask. But maybe it's better not to know.”

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · 2mo ago

I have a new microfiction about grief & beauty & destruction in Bending Genres. read my story “Dishes” + all of Issue 51 🍽️ 🎨 grateful to @rgvaughan.bsky.social & the @bendinggenres.bsky.social editors ♡ bendinggenres.com/dishes/

Journal: Bending Genres, Issue 51
Title of story: Dishes
Author: Anna Vangala Jones

Text of story: “Louisa, my coworker, keeps telling me about this studio where you decorate dishes before standing on the rooftop to fling them at the ground—she says it’s therapeutic. Better than actual therapy. You wouldn’t be the only widow there, she assures me, lots of widows. She explains it’s nice because you get the soothing, artistic activity first and then there is the destruction. The ability to shatter into oblivion the beauty you’ve just created. Before anyone else can take it from you or ruin it. It sounds strange but I’d try almost anything at this point. I insist on going alone. The ceramic pieces are premade. We spend the first visit painting them and then they get glazed and fired in the kiln. We return a week later to admire our finished products before heading up several flights of stairs to the roof and throwing them as hard as we can at the vacant lot below. There’s not a lot of socializing that happens. I paint my teacup periwinkle and white while I lie to the old woman next to me about my husband by pretending he’s at home and still alive. “Does he question why you come here?” she asks. “My kids don’t get it. It’s good for my anger but they don’t understand what I’m so angry about. Neither do I,” she admits, “but I know I am and this helps.” I don’t tell him I’m here, I say. I like being able to tell her some truth. The day the dishes are ready, we don’t speak a word to each other or anyone else. Just indulge in the violence together and alone. I don’t notice anyone else’s debris but my own. I only see tiny periwinkle and white fragments sparkling on the pavement like millions of stars in distant galaxies.”

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · 3mo ago

I’m back in @bulbregion.bsky.social with “Unsent Love Letters (& Other Regrets)” ♡ grateful to @sarpsozdinler.bsky.social + all of you who read this story 💌 📬 bulbregion.com/Unsent-Love-...

Journal: The Bulb Region
Title: Unsent Love Letters (& Other Regrets)
Author: Anna Vangala Jones
Image: an open mailbox in black & white
Prose
Excerpt of the story: “When the mailboxes started appearing all over town—the ones in which you could send letters to your dead that they’d be able to receive and read—we all regarded it as something dangerous. Those who had dabbled in ouija boards and harmless playful witchcraft in childhood were somewhat less concerned while others saw the new magical objects as being placed there by the devil. First of all, none of us knew where they came from. But the label slapped across each of them was clear.

‘Letters for your dead?’”

a periwinkle background color
text & image in white
Prose
Title: Unsent Love Letters (& Other Regrets)
Author: Anna Vangala Jones
Image: open mailbox

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · 4w ago

I have a new story “The Yellow Door” in @burialmagazine.bsky.social! so grateful to Zack for giving it a wonderful home & any of you who read this one 🪦 🌲 🚪 💛 burialmagazine.neocities.org/theyellowdoor

Title: The Yellow Door

Author: Anna Vangala Jones

Excerpt of story:

Seated around the table holding hands, we opened our eyes to look at Jyoti’s empty chair, disappointed that our seance had failed to bring her back. We were lost after her unexpected death, me especially. She’d been the voice of our little group. We were a body without a mouth. The next night we set up the ouija board, our fingers as light as a feather on the heart shaped planchette for communicating with the dead, begging Jyoti to guide us toward some kind of ghostly reunion. To our collective shock, it began to glide over the letters until it produced the helpful instruction, Go to our tree tomorrow morning.

We knew she meant the sycamore tree in the woods where we’d gather to smoke, drink, and talk for hours. We arrived, all on time for once, and found a yellow door waiting for us in the center of the trunk.

“We should not open that,” Betsy said.

“But she’s in there,” I said. “She told us to come.”

{white text on purple background}

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · 2d ago

posting these days is like talking to myself as tumbleweeds roll by & yet here I am to say I wrote a whole page

Chloe N. Clark @pintsncupcakes.bsky.social · 5d ago

It me 🥺

HAD@havehashad.com · 5d ago

New Chloe N. Clark poem at HAD today!! “How you can hold disaster in / the cup of your hand” https://www.havehashad.com/jamkn

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · 5d ago

the more I try to revise my novella, the more new micros I end up writing

Thirty West Publishing @thirtywestph.com · last wk.

BEST OF THIRTY WEST VOL 1 CONTRIBUTORS @adamg.bsky.social @theoriginalison.bsky.social @keslentz.bsky.social @joshdale.co @rossmcmeekin.bsky.social @anniejowrites.bsky.social & Nicole Rivas Coming soon.

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · 9mo ago

I have a new story in Short Story Long! many thanks to @aaronburch.bsky.social, a wonderful editor who always makes my writing better, the incredible Zoë Petersen for her beautiful original art, & all of you who take the time to read this one ♡ ashortstorylong.substack.com/p/a-love-sto...

Title: “A Love Story Told in Nine Lives”
Author: Anna Vangala Jones
An illustration of a man walking past a cafe window. Inside the cafe a woman is sitting and drinking coffee at a table by the window and the man is looking at her as he walks.

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · last mo.

delighted to be back in Rejection Letters with my new story “The Funerals” — so grateful to @kevinmkearney.bsky.social for his thoughtful edits, D.T., & any of you who read it in @rejectionlit.bsky.social 🪦 ♡ rejection-letters.com/2026/07/07/t...

Title: The Funerals
Author: Anna Vangala Jones
Image: a narrow alleyway behind a bar with a lit up red neon sign. nearby is a large tree under a gloomy sky.
Excerpt from the story: “For years, they’d all taken bets on who would be next. I tried not to resent anyone who guessed me. ‘We’re sorry, Diya,’ they said as they collected their winnings. ‘Where do you want the funeral?’

It began with Jill. After her divorce was final, she sent us formal invitations that insisted we wear black dresses and heels. At the cemetery, she placed flowers at the base of a tree before saying a few words. She claimed she did it to be funny, but she seemed to take the proceedings pretty seriously. Around the midway point, we went from finding the whole thing annoying to cathartic, finally telling her all our unspoken truths about their doomed trajectory as high school sweethearts turned bitter divorcees. We’ve since paid our respects at a mini-golf place, where Sarah’s first date had gone horribly but she married him anyway, and an old abandoned building, home to the lousy apartment Kavita and her ex had once shared. The last one was a bonfire in which Melanie torched every memory and smiled at the leaping flames. The funerals help us mourn and celebrate these endings. The drinks let us temporarily forget. Merlot at a classy restaurant after Jill’s. Yuengling at a dive bar after Sarah’s. Soju at a karaoke lounge after Kavita’s. Root beer floats at a drive-in movie after Melanie’s.”

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · 11mo ago

I have a new short story in the wonderful Terrazzo Editions today called “Maybe Mary” & I’d be thrilled if you give it a read. so grateful to amazing editor Gina Nutt. you can find her interview with me here too www.terrazzoeditions.com/terrazzomag/...

title: Maybe Mary
author: Anna Vangala Jones

a mosaic pattern in blue, tan, and purple

title: Maybe Mary
author: Anna Vangala Jones

a mosaic pattern in blue, tan, and purple

quote from story: “She says she doesn’t want to talk about the disappearance. Anything but that is fine.”

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · last yr.

I have a new story in @havehashad.com today! my third one 💀 🏚️ ✨ grateful as always to editor @aaronburch.bsky.social for providing a wonderful home for my words + to all of you who read it ♡ www.havehashad.com/hadposts/the...

At the top of the page is a drawing of a pile of skulls. Underneath is today’s date: March 31, 2025. Then the title of the story and the name of the author: The Haunted House of Things Left Unsaid by Anna Vangala Jones.
Below that is the text of the opening lines of the story: “Everyone’s heard the rumors that when you die, they take you into a house you’ve never seen before—real dilapidated and creepy for added effect maybe—and in each room, they make you watch people from throughout the course of your life reading or listening to all the things you’ve wanted to say to them when you were alive but never did. Letters, emails, notes in books, burned CDs, text messages, silent moments”

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · 3y ago

I have a new story in Short Story Long today! it’s about the mystery of people you come across often but can’t truly know. many thanks to wonderful editor @aaronburch.bsky.social, Zoë Petersen for the lovely art, & any of you who read it ♡

The Legend of the Convenience Store Cashier by Anna Vangala Jones

"He was beautiful but not in the way of a movie star or something. Beautiful in the regular person way. Beautiful to us."

ashortstorylong.substack.com

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · 2y ago

I have a new story up at @rejectionlit.bsky.social today! it’s about friendship breakups and the living ghosts that haunt us. so grateful to amazing editor @kevinmkearney.bsky.social & any of you who read it ♡ rejection-letters.com/2025/01/02/n...

Now it’s nothing but flowers (Anna Vangala Jones)

I know I’m her ghost. The one that lingers in the corners of her memory, waiting to strike—when some song by Bruce Springsteen plays, or when she drives by our old favorite diner, or when it rains …

rejection-letters.com

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · 2y ago

hi bluesky! I wrote Turmeric & Sugar—a book about love, loneliness, obsession, ghosts, the surreal + the real, & longing. @tananarivedue.bsky.social calls it “an impressive debut by a writer with a clear vision into the human heart.” @thirtywestph.bsky.social www.thirtywestph.com/shop/turmeri...

A book sits on a bench surrounded by flowers and leaves. The book title is Turmeric & Sugar: Stories and the author is Anna Vangala Jones. The original cover design shows maroon curtains drawn to reveal a window overlooking an elephant and an ocean with choppy waves. The elephant is blue like the sky full of white wispy clouds. The artist is Carolyn Brandt.

Melissa Ostrom @melostrom.bsky.social · 2w ago

“…the warmth makes you feel alive.” This wonderful gem by @anniejowrites.bsky.social in @havehashad.com! 🔥

Anna Vangala Jones@anniejowrites.bsky.social · 2w ago

excited to be in @havehashad.com again with a tiny micro about a bar for ghosts. grateful to @aaronburch.bsky.social + any of you who read it 💀 🍻 👻 www.havehashad.com/hadposts/whe...

Anna Vangala Jones @anniejowrites.bsky.social · 2w ago

putting my phone away & reading a book because it will make me happy but posting about it so as to inspire others

Rachel Abbey McCafferty @ramccafferty.bsky.social · 2w ago

In this spirit, a handful of flash writers who, when I see they’ve got something new out, I have to read it: @pintsncupcakes.bsky.social, @anniejowrites.bsky.social & @kathyfish.bsky.social.

Rachel Abbey McCafferty@ramccafferty.bsky.social · 2w ago

A reminder that a nice message to a writer whose work connected with you in some way is a gift.

Chloe N. Clark @pintsncupcakes.bsky.social · 2w ago

Yet another stunner!!

Anna Vangala Jones@anniejowrites.bsky.social · 2w ago

excited to be in @havehashad.com again with a tiny micro about a bar for ghosts. grateful to @aaronburch.bsky.social + any of you who read it 💀 🍻 👻 www.havehashad.com/hadposts/whe...

Maureen O’Leary @maureenow.bsky.social · 2w ago

This is beautiful. Sad. Funny. Great.

Anna Vangala Jones@anniejowrites.bsky.social · 2w ago

excited to be in @havehashad.com again with a tiny micro about a bar for ghosts. grateful to @aaronburch.bsky.social + any of you who read it 💀 🍻 👻 www.havehashad.com/hadposts/whe...

Ben Niespodziany 📚🎪@neonpajamas.bsky.social · 2w ago

I think this is the best poem I've ever written in the latest issue of Notre Dame Review

"Statistics"
Benjamin Niespodziany

Last night’s dream was nothing but me digging
a hole, slipping in the hole, and falling down the hole.

98% of magicians incorporate holes into their acts.
A recent study suggests less than 2% of magicians insist

on dismissing the business of holes. Strangers broke
into our home looking for the hole of gold.

Five strangers came in through the window
and asked about our hole of hidden riches.

Five men smelling of sweat crept in through a hole
in the roof and demanded we hand over our gold.

In our basement there’s a cave and in the cave there’s a hole
and in the hole there’s an old man who doesn’t understand humanity.

Last night’s dream was 98% gold caves and 2% sweat.
Magicians broke into our basement of dreams

and we had nothing to give them as gifts.
Strange man-made caves act as holes in the second act of the tome.

Humanity stands next to me and only understands magic as a basement.
A man-made basement, a recent study suggests, is nothing

but a dream falling down a hole. The old man spits up pieces of gold
and tells me to bury them in the hole.

Falling, the report promotes, feels like 98% magic and 2% hole.
Our home is an act of slipping.

There’s humanity in the dig.

Will Musgrove @willmusgrove.bsky.social · 2w ago

I have a new story in the awesome @bulbregion.bsky.social about a career counselor. Give it a read! Thanks to @sarpsozdinler.bsky.social for giving this piece such an amazing home 💙

The Bulb Region@bulbregion.bsky.social · 2w ago

"I was living life backwards. A rewinding tape. Today was yesterday, yesterday the day before that, and so on." The brilliant Will Musgrove (@willmusgrove.bsky.social) Musgrove is back in The Bulb Region today with a fun, mind-bending story. 🔗👇