About Brian John Feehan
Some of the basics in no particular order: I’ve never tasted coffee (and do not intend to). My mother was in the Miss America pageant. I got elevation sickness while trekking the Himalayas, which I would not recommend (the sickness, not the trekking, which was tremendous). I’m from the Chicago area, but because of my original chosen profession (Theater), I moved to New York a long time ago. I’ve jumped from a plane (on purpose, not by accident) and now live in a 250-year-old house with my husband, two ghosts and a mortgage.
My fiction has been seen in the following venues:
“REQUIEM” – Finalist, the London Independent Story Prize. Jan. 2023.
“PAST AND FUTURE TENSE” – Finalist, Tennessee Williams ‘Saints and Sinners’ Prize. Jan 2023.
“#NEVER AFTER” – Gingerbread House Literary Magazine, October 2022.
“RIVER DEEP, MOUNTAIN HIGH” – Finalist, Hemingway Story Prize, June 2022.
“SUMMER’S HARVEST, AFTER THE FALL” – Beyond Words, Issue 19. Oct. 2021
“ENNUI, ADIEU” “THE PROTÉGÉ,” “NEGATION OF DELUSION” – Lockdown, Number One – Anthology, Sept. 2020
“CHASM” – Semi-Finalist, London Independent Story Prize. 2019
“TREATS” – New Millennium Writing (Muse Award) – Nov. 2017
“PLAYDATE” – The Foundling Review – March 2016
“FOR HIM” – Plots with Guns, Dec. 2013
I attended the Iowa Writers’ Workshop and the Sackett Street Writing Workshop. I’m shopping around my debut novel “MUMFORD” while putting the finishing touches on my second, “THE LAKE,” and my third, “EVOLUTION.” I was a finalist for the Beverly Hills Film Festival (screenplay) as well as the Heideman Award at the Actor’s Theatre of Louisville. I have five plays, all published and rights managed by Heuer Publishing, and I was, for many years, a professional director and choreographer.
“The girl's mother was the antithesis of the child that she sired. Each gesture was a whisper, every footfall an apology. Where she was demure, her daughter demurred, spouting her bare and boldfaced tales, the cloth with which she wove her fabrications was whole and absolute. But the man's wife did not have the resilience to tolerate such onslaughts, her camel's back endured its final straw, and she was gone. In the end, it was, in truth, the lies that set her free.”
Negation of Delusion, LOCKDOWN, and other stories