Julia Wetherell

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Display Name

Julia Wetherell

About Me

Writing Sample

There’s a single cigarette on the table, but it’s not like any cigarette Wendy has ever seen or smoked. It is the color of a paper bag, with a filter at the tip that appears, of all things, to be made of moss and lichen, knit together on some rock and harvested delicately.
“Try it,” the other woman says, sitting across from her. Wendy picks it up and the cigarette lights on its own. It smells…it smells like every cigarette, and like tea and ginger, and like nothing, the scent seems to waver in the air, go in and out of existence. But as Wendy takes a drag she fills with light and lightness.
“This the greatest,” she coughs.
“Told you,” says the park ranger. “So, as you must be dying to know, I’m a witch.”

“You’re too hot to be a witch.” Wendy taps ash onto the plate, and even that is more beautiful than ordinary ash, fine and black.

What I Write

Weirdo stuff.



Twitter Handle



“Into the Starfish Heart,” in Luna Station Quarterly 27, Fall 2016
“My Ex-Girlfriend’s Ex-Girlfriend,” in The Wild Hunt, July 20, 2016

Write-a-thon Goals

Writing Goals

1000 words/day.

Fundraising Goals