J.N. Howell lives in Canada with their tyrannical little dog and wife. They are a corporate cryptid by day that writes stories about messy queer people by night. Their work can be found scattered in speculative and lit magazines. When they aren't writing, they can be found hunched over a dying vegetable garden or haunting their local cafe, matcha in hand.
We stopped burying bodies when the bogs spread centuries ago. Instead, we submerged family into our mire, mingling great-great-grandmamas with grandbabies that died... Read more.
