John Brenkman

Hey there! I'm John Brenkman, and I've always been drawn to the stories that exist in the spaces between – between genres, between identities, between what's comfortable and what makes us squirm. (Fair warning: I tend to lean toward the squirmy side.)

Back in the 90s, when mainstream publishing was playing it safe, I helped create Venue, a literary review that gave voice to the writers who were pushing boundaries and breaking rules. Issue 3, "Boy/Girl," was my baby – a collection that threw traditional labels out the window and brought together fiction that explored sexuality and identity in ways that made the establishment nervous. And honestly? Making the establishment nervous has always been one of my favorite pastimes.

I believe literature should challenge us. It should make us question our assumptions, push us out of our comfort zones, and maybe even make us a little uncomfortable. (If you're looking for cozy bedtime reading, I'm probably not your guy.) My writing tends to dance on the edge between literary and experimental, with a healthy dose of "Wait, can they actually say that?" thrown in for good measure.

When I put together "Boy/Girl" for Venue 3, I wanted to create a space where international voices could come together to tell stories that mainstream publishers wouldn't touch. Gay, straight, bent, twisted – these labels are just boxes society tries to stuff us into, and my work has always been about breaking those boxes wide open.

I'm not your typical author (whatever that means). I don't write neat, tidy stories with predictable endings. I write messy, complicated, real stories about messy, complicated, real people. Sometimes they're beautiful, sometimes they're ugly, but they're always honest. And in case you're wondering – yes, that probably says something about my personality. I've never been good at fitting into neat little categories either.

Writing for me isn't about following trends or chasing markets. It's about capturing those raw, electric moments of human connection and confusion, about exploring the spaces where identity becomes fluid and certainty falls apart. (Also, I drink way too much coffee while writing, but that's probably not relevant to my artistic vision.)

If you pick up my work, expect to find: - Stories that don't fit in conventional boxes - Characters who defy easy categorization - Writing that challenges both form and content - Themes that might make your conservative aunt clutch her pearls - A distinct lack of apology for any of the above

I believe in building a community of readers who aren't afraid to explore the uncomfortable questions, who want literature that makes them think as much as it makes them feel. My readers aren't looking for escape – they're looking for engagement, for stories that reflect the beautiful mess of real life.

When I'm not writing or editing, I'm probably arguing about literary theory (I know, I know, but someone has to), hunting down obscure books in used bookstores, or convincing myself that one more cup of coffee won't hurt. I live with a perpetually judgmental cat who's not impressed by any of my literary achievements.

Here's the thing: I write what I write because these are the stories I believe need to be told. They're not always pretty, they're not always comfortable, but they're always honest. If that sounds like your kind of thing, pull up a chair. We might just get along.

(And yes, I know this bio is probably longer than it needs to be, but brevity has never been my strong suit. Just ask my editor.)

Looking for more? You can find me in the dusty corners of independent bookstores, at literary events where people argue passionately about Oxford commas, or occasionally on social media when I remember it exists. Fair warning: I'm much better at writing stories than I am at self-promotion.

Welcome to my weird little corner of the literary world. Make yourself uncomfortable – I mean, comfortable.