In my spare time I write.

I have many stories and some longer works. Here are some stories which have recently appeared in magazines and podcasts.

To find out more about my writing or my current novel in progress, contact mia@creativeprocess.info .

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Silence in the Museum

by Mia Funk

LOOK AT HER EYES. They’re empty. You can tell she’s really cold or probably never had an orgasm in her life. It’s typical of women of that period. Look at her skin…

LISTEN TO PODCAST of Silence in the Museum by Mia Funk on 52 Men

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Yes

by Mia Funk

When people ask me something, I’ve a principle: always say yes. Makes things easier and much more fun. I used to say no. Back then I was a pain-in-the-ass, my own family said so. Took years to realize all anyone wants to hear is yes.

Do you think I’m a good lover?

Yes.

Do you like being with me?

Yes…

“Yes” is a short story from a Novel in Progress

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Everything

by Mia Funk

We’re all seated in the school gymnasium screaming for some reason. The teacher says this is called the Theatre of the Oppressed, and that’s why we are yelling and learning how to assert ourselves. We are stamping in place, and the guy next to me gets down on all fours and has to pretend to be my dog, while I pretend to walk him. Which is fun, I’ve never had a dog before…

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Waiting for Dark

by Mia Funk

She had long legs for a Japanese, at least for what I imagined Japanese women were like, and that’s why it took longer to dispose of her. I always thought of them as shy and submissive, short and malnourished, like the kids in my barrio. He told me she’d been a dancer. He talked a lot, more than I expected of a Japanese. Of course he could have been lying, they do that. Try to get you on their side, so you’ll understand and maybe feel sorry for them because they’re afraid you’ll rat them out…

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In My Dreams

by Mia Funk

In my dreams we are moving through corridors and taking each other by the hand and there is music playing in other rooms, but we barely hear it for the pulse of blood that leads us to leave our lives behind. All the children and the mothers and disappointed lovers who are waiting for us in other rooms with all their obligations and timetables and needs and certainties and clockwork lives…

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The End of Summer

by Mia Funk
LISTEN to it on next season of the 52 Men podcast

He was my first boyfriend. I’d met him before I knew just how bad people can be...

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Man Ray’s Lips

by Mia Funk

I should have loved you when I had a chance. When the time was right and, as they say, all the ducks were lined up, and it would have all been so easy. That small window, open just a crack, but with a crowbar and this thing growing in me–was it even then love?–I could have got down there and pried it open…

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Displaced Persons

by Mia Funk

Her grandfather would never go back there. He distrusted the place. ‘The people smile all the time,’ he used to say, as though that were a bad thing. ‘How can you trust anyone who smiles constantly.’ And the girl thought at the time that he could just as easily be talking about America. ‘Yes, but here they smile all the time and they don’t really mean it. They’re smiling at you, but it’s for a reason. Like they’re insane or they’re high on Prozac or they want to cheat you out of your life savings…

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What are your thoughts?

by Mia Funk

THE SHRIVELLED GROWTH is now nine weeks old, measuring over an inch from ear to ear. Too late to get rid of it, Dr. Moore says. Either I could wait a little longer and then cut it’s head off or––

“It’s got a head?”

“It is a head.”

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Fast Fashion

by Mia Funk

Jerome had found his favorite jacket in the weekly specials rails at RW312, the only place in the city where you could dress yourself from head to toe for £20 and still have change left over. No one knew what RW312 stood for, but their clothes made you look smart, at least for a day or two. His friend Nigel said it sounded military... ‘Stands for that chemical shit they spray on it so that it never wrinkles.’ …

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It’s a Luxury to Cry

by Mia Funk

She used to paint faces that stared out at you, but collectors found them too confrontational. When she turned away from this her subjects did too, to look away, searching for something. And collectors liked these paintings better. They didn’t know what the figures were looking for––that’s what they liked about them…