Linda Lee Harper

New Blog: Warning: If you don't like ice cream, you won't like this blog.

Selected Works

My short story "Another Pittsburgh Story" should resonate for anybody familiar with the hills and bus routes of Pittsburgh, or any city really.
The poems in Linda Lee Harper's SMALL WAVES are technically adept and clever, --a pleasure, and that alone would justify the collection. They tell the truth about our lives--presentments of aging, unexpected desires--but tell it appealingly slant as Miss Dickinson suggests.
This is a terrific book of poems... and I am thrilled to be supervising its publication.
--Michael Dumanis, Director of the Cleveland State University Poetry Center
...a poet of exquisite wit, dark humor and trustworthy insight.
--Susan Ludvigson, author of Everything Winged Must Be Dreaming, To Find the Gold
Two Pushcart Nominations

Confessions of a Southern Sex, Craft, and Wannabe Bling Queen

Where To Begin?

July 28, 2014

Tags: Sex, Confessions, Bling, Southern, Queen

It's hot. It's always hot here in July. You expect that, right? And it's wet. It's been raining since April declared that this was the year we would have a Yankee spring. No disrespect intended, but it was colder this year, all spring, than any spring I remember since my husband first transplanted his wallet to South Carolina from Pennsylvania. He's a Pittsburgh Boy. Has never lost that sound of Western Pennsylvania, that inability, of not being able to quite say his L's properly. That he married a girl with two in her name is an irony the cosmos gifted him with the same way it gifted him with perfect teeth. If I didn't love him so much, I'd hate him for those perfect teeth. My teeth are not. My teeth give dentists new cars or adequate down-payments for beach condos. Little condos, but front row on the beach.
I followed that path of Pittsburgh Boy's wallet like a wannabe Sherman, leaving a trail of melted credit cards from Knoxville, through Atlanta and right on into South Carolina. My own credit card wallet bears the telltale scorch marks.
That we settled in Georgia is not my fault. Ask anybody who knows me. I'd have preferred Carolina, either of them. OR Alabama. My grandmother claimed it as her birth state, even though she was born in Tennessee. God, she could cook.
But his wallet had (has) a mighty draw. So, with my trusty MFA in hand, good teaching experience from a good university, I settled with it, him and our two adorable muffin-headed children into a nice life full of part-time teaching, self-indulgence, too much food, too much time and ample opportunity to become a craft queen, a sexy mama in khaki shorts and ample. The bling came after the sexy mama part. Rarely in khaki. Yes, I'd say that's my first bit of advice for acquiring bling. Don't wear khaki during sex. Don't wear anything. But then, you already knew that.
What you wear when you engage in teaching English composition like I did, lit survey courses and an occasional creative writing class, is up to your department head. What you wear when you engage in crafts is up to you. If you decide to learn how to craft stained glass like I did (one of many), you probably should wear something though. Naked probably is not the style for you. At the least consider a barbecue-type apron. At least. If not, well, keep iced water and Advil at hand. However, some of us, especially if we have some residual, cold-thickened Yankee blood curdling in our veins, have to learn the hard way. More about that next time.