Karen Pinchin is the author of Kings of Their Own Ocean: Tuna, Obsession, and the Future of Our Seas. Pinchin is an investigative journalist and trained cook whose work runs in Canadian Geographic, Scientific American, and Hakai Magazine. She graduated from Columbia Journalism School’s MA-Science in 2019, and has since been supported by the Canada Council for the Arts and the Sloan Foundation. She lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia, with her husband and son.

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To read the full interview, visit Fiction Advocate and be sure to check out the previous installments of Non-Fiction about Non-Humans with Bethany Brookshire, Sabrina Imbler, Erica Berry, Tove Danovich, Karen Fine, Jaime Green, Cat Warren, and Gloria Dickie!

The post Non-Fiction about Non-Humans: Karen Pinchin appeared first on E.B. Bartels.

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My girl Wanda the betta fish (RIP) finally gets the obituary she deserves in the winter 2020 issue of Wellesley Magazine. Writing this piece for the Endnotes section was really fun. Well, as fun as writing about murdering your fish can be.

Thank you to Alice M. Hummer, Lisa Scanlon Mogolov, and Catherine Grace for publishing my essay!

Thank you to my first-year roommate and BFF Lee Hanae Ung for living through the experience and still being my friend!

The post “Three First-Years and a Fish” in Wellesley Magazine! appeared first on E.B. Bartels.

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In a wild turn of events, I spoke with Melissa Broder about what it’s like to write (gasp!) fiction. We discussed her new novel, The Pisces, Siri as a writing tool, the greatness of dogs, plus Melissa reveals her top five favorite mythological creatures. The interview is up today on Full Stop. Enjoy!

The post Interview with Melissa Broder on Full Stop appeared first on E.B. Bartels.

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“Are fish supposed to look like this?”

My two roommates appeared by my side, our faces almost touching as we peered into the tank, so close our breath fogged the plastic. The three of us peered into the one-gallon tank on my dresser, full of neon pink rocks, a fake plant, a gray plastic castle, and a purple-maroon Betta, our beloved Wanda, the mascot of Claflin Hall, room 107, who was not doing well.

“She looks… swollen,” Anna said.

“Kind of puffy,” said Leigh.

“Why are her scales sticking out like that?”

Wanda floated in her tank, barely bothering to swish her fins, ignoring the flakes of food I sprinkled on the surface above her enlarged head. Her scales – normally a bright, shiny metallic purple – were muted and protruding, no longer lying flat against her skin.

Leigh, on the premed track, turned to her computer. After a few minutes of research, she had the diagnosis:

“Dropsy. It’s definitely dropsy.”

The post A Fish Formerly Called Wanda: Dead Pet Chronicles appeared first on E.B. Bartels.