Bethany Marcel is a freelance writer living in Portland, Oregon. Her work has been published in Human Parts, Literary Hub, Popula, Creative Nonfiction, Off Assignment, Post Road, The Nervous Breakdown, and elsewhere. She has received a residency from the Spring Creek Project, was a finalist for the St. Petersburg Writer-in-Residence position, and an honorable mention for the Idyllwild Fellowship.
As a freelance writer, she offers ghostwriting, editing, and occasional copywriting. She primarily writes in the areas of mental health, travel, and motherhood.
She is currently working on her first book.
See selection of her writing at http://www.bethanymarcel.com/
Excerpt from You Survived, but I’m Still Grieving :
“When the tow truck driver answered your phone, everything went sideways.
I saw the world clearly now, as I hadn’t before. It was vibrating, and ugly, and cruel.
Time didn’t stop, the way they say it does. I sensed, rather, that time had continued but also shifted, coldly, beneath my feet. The universe of time was now a different animal. My body, too, was smaller than just moments before.
I had a suspicion it — my body — was falling, independent from me. I saw he world clearly now, as I hadn’t before. It was vibrating, and ugly, and cruel. I held the phone a distance from my head. And then I screamed.
The tow truck driver said you were sprawled out. The top of you in the back of the car, flung backward from impact. Your feet up near the steeringwheel. The seatbelt had always been a little funny, not tightening the way it should. When I went to see the car, to retrieve my belongings from the trunk, the tow truck driver was there.
He was a tall, thin man with the same name as my brother: Evan.
“You were crying a lot on the phone,” Evan said.”
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