In his first short story collection Tim Chapman explores behaviors that are at once familiar and bizarre, while introducing us to an odd assemblage of characters. A reformed hit man has to kill to save the love of his life. An advertising executive deserts her family to find happiness as a forest nymph. A downsized factory worker decides to fake a disability. A young girl has to decide whether her divine power is a blessing or a curse. Engaging stories about family, class, crime, and love from the author of "Bright and Yellow, Hard and Cold."
Tim Chapman is a former forensic scientist for the Chicago police department who currently teaches writing and tai chi chuan. He holds a Master’s degree in Creative Writing from Northwestern University. His fiction has been published in The Southeast Review, the Chicago Reader, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Chicago Tribune’s Printers Row Journal, and the anthology, “The Rich and the Dead.” His first novel, “Bright and Yellow, Hard and Cold,” was a finalist in Shelf Unbound’s 2013 Best Indie Book competition. His short stories have been collected under the title, “Kiddieland and other misfortunes.” In his spare time he paints pretty pictures and makes an annoying noise with his saxophone that he claims is music. He lives in Chicago with his lovely and patient wife, Ellen, and Mia, the squirrel-chasingest dog in town.
Excerpt from story "Dear Hart" in the collection "Kiddieland and other misfortunes."
Kiddieland and other misfortunes
She floured her board and, for the umpteenth time, was thrilled by the way the cloud of sifted flour spread like smoke. The way it leached the moisture from her hands made her aware that her DNA was being kneaded into the dough. Muscles in her arms and shoulders that she rarely used were brought into play. She had to tell herself, as her mother had, to go easy; pie dough is not bread dough. She tried to imagine what other words of wisdom her mother would have disclosed between slicing the apples and greasing the pans. Her mother didn’t bake for Karin’s father; she baked for herself. During their baking sessions she had told Karin that it was important to have something that was just yours, something that nurtured emotional independence. She called it her “frigjordhet.”