Author Archives: Jeff Stewart

  I was hanging a door at work today when this piece of shit I work with asked me what I was working on a book I told him no shit, about what? just a bunch of short pages on … Continue reading →

  I drove her car to Norms for some dinner, where I finished the novel. Something snapped in my head, something changed. The last line in Hunger wound the book up air-tight and gave me chills. Such selfless, beautiful work. … Continue reading →

I noticed this young couple reading. I made the block and parked across the street, walked up and shot their photo. It didn’t occur to me until later that I noticed nothing in their pockets: no phones, no media, no … Continue reading →

…the love for the written word and the sun-torn highways flush with mountains and small stations, a cup of hot coffee next to my typewriter, the feeling of life warm down my arms, is no longer real to me. It’s … Continue reading →

We walked toward the ocean. “No hippies for Papi?” “I hate those motherfuckers.” “Same here.” We stood at the edge of the dry sand. The water was from everywhere, from places and times unknown to God and Darwin. All the … Continue reading →

He postured himself like a gorilla, and it sickened me. Then he took a swing. I ducked it, and he lost balance. Before Gus could make it over the bar I was on top of him, landing blows in his … Continue reading →

Conversation with my favorite clerk in Austin the night before I leave town: “Just the beer?”                                                     “That’s right.” My buddy grabs the six pack, opens the door and lights a cigarette. I grab a Nutty Bar and toss it on … Continue reading →

I wrote the following short story in my hotel room just now and posted it right to the site without looking it over once. The thing with writing, as any writer will tell you, is that it’s not just writing, … Continue reading →

Sitting here in my hotel room, going over some files from the last 20 years or so. It’s been a long time since I’ve read any of these, and looking over these files, especially the poems, I’m called back to … Continue reading →