The Dreaded Third-Person Bio*

Bradley David's poetry, fiction, essays, photography, and genre-blurring works appear in numerous publications and anthologies. He is Pushcart and Best of the Net nominated. Bradley is the blended-genre senior editor at JMWW Journal, and an assistant editor at Identity Theory.

Bradley earned his B.A. in English (concentrations in gender studies and history) from Michigan State University and his Master’s in social work (interpersonal practice in psychotherapy) from The University of Michigan. He concurrently earned a Graduate Certification in Holistic Health Care from Western Michigan University. For fifteen years he provided editorial, research, and publicity assistance for a renowned sexual health expert. He also worked a short time as a phone-based crisis counselor trained in suicide prevention methodologies. Bradley went on to write an online column for Psychology Today for over a decade, focusing on the intersection of identity, career development, and well-being. During that time he also ran a career consulting practice, providing career-development coaching and advisement for job seekers and individuals seeking career advancement.

In 2016 Bradley began writing his first novel, an intergenerational queer saga, which he is now querying. It was a few years later, upon a chance online meeting with an esteemed poet-turned-pen pal, that he began experimenting with poetics. He also began publishing his essays, short stories, and genre-blurring work.

Bradley lives with his husband in Los Angeles, where they are homesteading 1-acre on the edge of the city. There he runs a small private poultry rescue and is dedicated to transforming the land into a safe space for wildlife, a native habitat for plants & pollinators, and a garden for sustenance & connection. He documents his project at ProvinceJournal.com. Sometimes home life shows up on socials @bradley_david_w, where he also announces calls for writing submissions and enjoys celebrating the successes of writers, artists, and independent publishers.

*Such is the thinnest top-skin of a 3rd person bio that makes me appear semi-accomplished, but hardly holds depth or true representation. Bios don’t have a line for depth of anything essential. For how hard I’ve tried, sometimes too hard, sometimes not hard enough; and how all of that, at least several days a week, feels embarrassing or shameful or inadequate. Bios don’t have a line for my sadness, anger, or loneliness. I am fairly reclusive, attending to a near-daily writing impulse, inserting myself from a distance into its industry’s stream of personalities, its carrot of possibilities, and most of that is a palpable discomfort. On better days I try to remind myself that only existence in the moment matters, and I am fully deserving of that moment; existence untethered to the nagging tug-of-war of accomplishment and failure (or nonacceptance). And I try to remember that witnessing such discomforts with a beginner’s mind can simultaneously appear as joy, practice, zest, accomplishment, rejection, or failure. Or it can appear as nothing, as just motion, as the wind is motion. And all of those states of being are ephemeral curiosities—emotions, witnessing of emotions, witnessing of the witness, unlabeled movements. As such, they are all that matter. That which is not tied down is what matters. Matters in the way that it leaves us and lets us go, because freedom is all that matters. Certainly not concrete histo-biographies. Not the relentless pursuit of production. No, not on my better days.

Vibe

Transgressive, satirical, humorous, queer, absurd, and pathetic.* Urban-rural juxtaposition, eco/nature, quiet writing, hidden americana, farm settings, and historical fiction. Mental illness/wellness, vulnerability, seclusion/introversion, grief & loss, and grit. Pan-genre, genre-blurring, and what the fuck is that. Shy on twee/precious/sentimental. All-in on aging, wisdom-eschewing, and timelessness. Cries over minuscule detail, bangs fists on bad design. Big on vernacular and tinkered vernacular. Invented words are marvels. If we’re capable of thinking it, we’re capable of writing into it. Editing, big yes, but fuck literary borders, policing, shaming, and gatekeeping. Finds backchannel lit gossip sad and damaging. So is abusive discourse and literary cliques—but what great playgrounds for writing villains. Don’t project characters onto their authors. Literary device: yes. Literary advice: meh. Vulgarity: yes. *Early-internet-esque websites that inexplicably self-describe writer vibe when nobody’s asking for it: fuck yes, I’m literally here for it.

Current Mood: Awake at night wondering if I should delete this entire site. I mean, who does this stuff?

On Originality, Authenticity, and Respect

All of my work is entirely my own, created without the use of artificial intelligence or plagiarism. In my editorial roles, when I announce calls for submissions, I unequivocally expect the same. I hold myself and others to high standards, which is most certainly not a sacrifice to the joy of playfulness and experimentation. In fact, it expects as much. I hold humor, nonsense, and absurdity in the highest regard.

All creatives are influenced (in clear or obscure ways) by those who have come before them and generously shared their imagination and wisdom. As such, our influences may show up in our work. Influence and homage created with the spirit of originality, experimentation, respect, and honor is not a rip-off of someone’s hard work. Plagiarism and AI most certainly are. AI can be a prompt/imagination generator, but it cannot be tolerated as a conveyor belt of final products. Your original work is needed in this world and I deeply respect your dedication to craft. Thank you for respecting mine.

Selected Publications