Rosemary Harp

Rosemary Harp’s writing has appeared in Fiction, Electric Lit, Creative Nonfiction, Atticus Review, Mid-American Review, Writing Disorder, Hobart, Everyday Fiction, Pithead Chapel and other journals.

ABOUT ROSEMARY

Rosemary Harp’s writing has appeared in Fiction, Electric Lit, Creative Nonfiction, Atticus Review, Mid-American Review, Writing Disorder, Hobart, Everyday Fiction, Pithead Chapel and other journals. Her work has been selected for Longform’s Story of the Week and was included in Best of the Net 2019.

Rosemary attended the University of Michigan where she studied Comparative Literature and won two Hopwood Awards for her fiction. She also holds an M.A. in English Literature from the University of Virginia.

When she’s not writing, Rosemary plays a little ice hockey for a team called the Motherpuckers.

Rosemary is represented by Fletcher and Company.

The Widows Club, Pithead Chapel

We aren’t really widows. We just wish we were. We discuss our fantasy widowhoods philosophically. We are especially interested in the aesthetics of widowhood, the style it can take. Would we be, we ask each other, a Jackie: coiffed and determined in a sleek sheath dress and big sunglasses to hide the tears, with a grief-stricken and prematurely stately child at each hand?… Keep Reading

On Finding My Ex-Boyfriend's Poetry Collection in a Used Bookstore, Electric Lit

Unexpected items I’ve found in used bookstores: a sales receipt for chocolate pudding and cigarettes stuck at precisely the midway point of Eat, Pray, Love… Keep Reading.

Cat in the Rain, Atticus Review

Gwen was gone again. She claimed she was painting on the beach, but it had started to rain. I knew she was on the phone with Bella. When I say on the phone I mean texting, or maybe facetiming, which always makes me think of two-timing. People Bella’s age can’t just put the phone to their ear and listen… Keep Reading.

Cape Town 1991, Every Day Fiction

The ceiling is white, the walls are white, the curtains are white. They swell and recede in unison like lungs. On the breeze, Mina can smell frangipani and chlorine. She is pinned to the sofa beneath her brother Hansie. The fabric of his rugby shorts rasps against her bare leg…

In the Kelp Forest, Writing Disorder

Tess Chen is in high demand as a pet sitter around Arriba Circle. She can be trusted with feeding schedules and keys. She does not snoop or help herself to popsicles. Since summer vacation began, she has looked after a middle-aged cat, a clutch of frantic and incestuous hamsters, and Jorie Wexler’s black and yellow ball python… Read more.

Mommy Speak, Motherwell

When my oldest son was six months old, the teacher at baby music class scolded me in front of the group for speaking to him in my usual voice… Keep Reading.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

When Dermot asked me how I could have risked missing our daughter’s tenth birthday party to spend time with my gay ex-boyfriend, I told him he had to understand that there’d been a legitimate emergency. What I didn’t tell Dermot was that performing acts of self-negation for Theo was a kind of muscle memory I didn’t always know how to override. I didn’t taxonomize the kinds of love or explain to Dermot that ours is the combing lice out of the whole family’s hair together at 1:00 a.m. when someone wakes up itchy kind of love—and that’s the best kind… Keep reading.

Open Studio

When I was growing up, we had a ginger cat who deposited dead mice and birds on the back porch each morning and preened beside his kills. My mother would pull on her green rubber gardening gloves and discard the little corpses without squeamishness or sentiment. When the cat was fourteen and my mother was forty-five, my father left her… Keep reading.

Saint of the Day

At age ten, Gertrude received a marriage proposal from a duke, but stamped her foot, cursed him with a terrifying oath, and declared she would have no spouse but the Lord. To protect her from violent abductors who sought to destroy Gertrude’s innocence, her father shaved her head, leaving only a ring of hair like a crown… Keep reading.

Contact

Email: rfraserharp@gmail.com