M. Molly Backes's Blog

I wrote this poem last fall. It's been ringing in my ears all day. 





Natural Disasters



In
how to handle tornadoes, we have been well trained: we kneel

against
lockers, foreheads touching cool metal, thin arms

awkwardly
crossed above our heads and exposed necks,

teachers
strolling inspection, scolding our stifled giggles. It’s just

a drill. Repeat anything enough and it becomes

Some men on my Facebook timeline have complained that #metoo is unfair to men because it implies that they're all catcalling losers, but they themselves have never catcalled a lady once. Unfair!



But here's the thing, pals. It's not just catcalling.

It's when nine out of ten cab drivers ask you if you're single, and you have them drop you a block from your house because you don't want them to

When I was six years old, I stepped on a nest of yellow jackets. We had stopped on the side of the road to pee off the side of the car, par for the course on family roadtrips, and then my dad, little sister, and I wandered a little ways into the woods where we found an abandoned train track and decided to explore it. I was first. I remember the before and the after: first the woods, hazy and

In the picture book class I'm teaching, I asked my students to bring in books to share so that we could get a broader range of texts to discuss. One woman brought in The Story of Ferdinand by Munro Leaf, illustrated by Robert Lawson. My students are all much older than me (you have to be at least 50 to take the class, and a few of them are in their 80s), but we all had good memories of reading

If you keep breaking the handles on your hairbrushes, you’re probably the girl next door.



If you're the new girl, wait a semester before you join drama club, because you might unknowingly be cast in a murder revenge play.



If you get murdered at a party it will suck, but on the upside you might fall in ghost love with the cute motorcycle ghost from homeroom.



If you find yourself on trial

...Danielle Duerr! Congrats!


You guys, thank you so much for your huge and overwhelming response to this giveaway! I am honored and grateful. Double thanks to everyone who left comments -- I loved hearing from you! 


If you happen to be in or around the Twin Cities, you should come hang out with me next month, when I'll be reading with Julie Schumacher as part of the Second Story series at

Trumpets! Fireworks! A whole mountain made of cookies! The Princesses of Iowa is out in paperback today! YAYYY!


Isn't it pretty?


To celebrate this momentous occasion, I am giving away an ANNOTATED COPY of The Princesses of Iowa to one lucky winner. Or maybe two. Depending on how saucy I'm feeling.

You have until 11:59 pm on Tuesday, August 12, to enter! Entry form is at the bottom of this

Breathlessly, and a bit against your own good sense. You shouldn't want this, but you just can't help yourself. If you are about to have sex, it is definitely because you are so overwhelmed with passion that you can't even think straight. It's definitely not because you're horny or bored or trying to get out of doing the dishes or it's Tuesday night and you always have sex on Tuesday night. You

It’s late, and everyone is having fun except me. There are five of us: my housemates Ali, Jamie, and Nancy, our friend Mary, and me. They’re all giggling and trading insults and doing all kinds of obnoxious rumpus as if they haven’t even noticed how thick the fog has gotten, how invisible the road is before us. Meanwhile, I’m hunched over the steering wheel, fingers clenched, eyes straining to

"The novel is dead," announces a Great Man of Literature.

"Well, the Serious Literary Novel is," he amends. "The 'kidult boywizardsroman' is doing just fine." He mentions this as if it supports his original contention, as if the massive popularity of a series of books written for children is proof of the downfall of global literary culture.

YAWNNNNN.

I am so dreadfully bored of hearing Serious