Jean Harrow

J. Harrow enjoys writing whatever the hell she wants. If her writing must be described using one genre, to paraphrase her high school English Literature teacher, it is ‘wildly unhinged fiction based loosely on fever dreams and idle speculation left to simmer too long.’ For the cinematically savvy, her writing is a paltry shadow of Willem Dafoe’s rendition of Paul Smecker in The Boondock Saints, though not nearly as confident in heels.

Her works explore whatever cardinal writing sin she wants to commit that day. Maybe it’s a conversation being carried on with no indication of who is speaking or how many participants are in the conversation. Perhaps it’s rewriting the same haiku but rearranging the letters higgledy piggledy over the page. She delights in shocking and offending the staunch english writing rules gate-keepers of the world, so please let her know when she does so she may continue to delight in it.

When she isn’t digging through dumpsters in search of out-of-print autobiographies of the long dead, she can be found procrastinating on bluesky at @jeanharrow.bsky.social