My Stories


We were raised in rural America, or what we thought was rural. Not Iowa, Illinois or Nebraska, not even amid the cornfields of our own Ohio, rather on the outskirts, in a township.


Disturbing, That… everything is undisturbed, pared to singlehood and the craves we didn’t know we knew. Such as: absent others’ touch, what are we?

In Euphoria By Donna D. Vitucci Press Pack

From its opening paragraph, In Euphoria shows we are reading an extremely gifted, lyrical writer, but what ultimately makes this novel so compelling is Pauline…

HEX, OCTOBER 1956 by Donna D. Vitucci

The industrial grandeur and glare of Fernald erased even the stars so that approaching the plant for third shift was like driving from a tunnel into the government’s continuous daytime.

Oranges by Donna D. Vitucci

If the way I remember differs from how others recall that time at United Methodist, well, memory trains itself—the dumbest, most diligent animal treading a familiar dirt circle…

Personal Becomes Universal Through Research

Guest Post by Novelist Donna D. Vitucci @Live to Write – Write to LiveThe answer to my question, How long does it take to write a book? is fifteen for the novelist Donna Vitucci, who has just published Salt of Patriots after fifteen years of research, writing and...


Maddy Procter stood in the boys’ bathroom. Nobody pulled their pants down.
Josh and Frankie and Paul loitered by the spots designated for peeing but they stayed tucked in.


You can run on Catechism like it’s gasoline. Wipe your grime on the gauze that covers your intimate places. So then, a life tinted yellow, malaised, maized, amazed.

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