Whiting Award Winners

Since 1985, the Foundation has supported creative writing through the Whiting Awards, which are given annually to ten emerging writers in fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and drama.

Ten Seconds
A Novel

“Malcolm is dead,” Eddie kept hearing as he raced to the shop. As he got closer, he saw the flashing lights, and the siren that had been only an eerie, barely audible musical accompaniment to his thoughts began to register as belonging to an ambulance and not as being a regular plant alarm. He knew that he would not cry no matter how awful it was; he never cried. That was one thing he never had to worry about. If one of them had to be killed here, it was better that it was Malcolm—because if Eddie had been killed, Malcolm would have cried like a baby.

Trick Mirror
Reflections on Self-Delusion

What could put an end to the worst of the internet? Social and economic collapse would do it, or perhaps a series of antitrust cases followed by a package of hard regulatory legislation that would somehow also dismantle the internet’s fundamental profit model. At this point it’s clear that collapse will almost definitely come first. Barring that, we’ve got nothing except our small attempts to retain our humanity.

Catch as Catch Can
A Play

THERESA

I’m worried she’ll be a fish out of water.

 

ROBERTA

When do we meet her? When’re they movin’?


THERESA

Not now. Soon. We’ll see. They’re waiting to see if Mingjing can transfer jobs.


            ROBERTA puts down her cookie.


ROBERTA

What’s her name?

 

THERESA

Minjung.


ROBERTA

Theresa.


            THERESA sips tea.


THERESA

She’s in architecture, works for a big firm out there

 

ROBERTA

(indicating the under-eye skin) Those dark circles, no wonder.

 

THERESA

But she might give it up and teach.

 

ROBERTA

You seen her only once?

 

THERESA

Tim never said any—why would I think

 

ROBERTA

Such a rush.

 

THERESA

My brain’s exploded.

 

ROBERTA

I knew it: how far gone is she?

 

Note: A male actor plays the roles of both THERESA and her son TIM. A second male actor plays the roles of both ROBERTA and her son ROBBIE.

Orient Point
Poems

Coyotes invade. They claim to be the truth.

Black bears nose the bougainvillea, moving

eastward, indiscriminate, original.

Our sinks back up, our toilets will not drain,

our nature disobediently tends toward nature.

We Sinners
A Novel

Her plan had been to clean in the middle of the night, so her mother would wake to an empty kitchen sink, but as she stood in the foyer, the bathroom fan beating loudly and uselessly, the mess before her made her want to cry; being in a family of eleven made her want to cry, the way someone had soaked up the dog’s pee but not thrown away the paper towel, the way responsibility divided by eleven meant no one was really responsible.

Officer Friendly and Other Stories

“Now, because it’s his birthday and he wasn’t supposed to make it this far, he asked that we throw him a bash, like the old Augusta blowouts, and he asked that at midnight we shoot him dead.”

 

I stared at him. He didn’t waver.

 

“We figure you’re the best guy to do it,” he said, slapping a hand on my shoulder.

 

“I’ve never even shot a gun,” I said.

 

He pulled up my shirt and took the gun from the back of my pants. “It’s pretty basic. Point and pull. You’ve seen the movies.” He aimed the pistol at the portrait of the old man, said “Bang” and faked the recoil, then blew imaginary smoke from the barrel.

Ten Seconds
A Novel

“Malcolm is dead,” Eddie kept hearing as he raced to the shop. As he got closer, he saw the flashing lights, and the siren that had been only an eerie, barely audible musical accompaniment to his thoughts began to register as belonging to an ambulance and not as being a regular plant alarm. He knew that he would not cry no matter how awful it was; he never cried. That was one thing he never had to worry about. If one of them had to be killed here, it was better that it was Malcolm—because if Eddie had been killed, Malcolm would have cried like a baby.

Trick Mirror
Reflections on Self-Delusion

What could put an end to the worst of the internet? Social and economic collapse would do it, or perhaps a series of antitrust cases followed by a package of hard regulatory legislation that would somehow also dismantle the internet’s fundamental profit model. At this point it’s clear that collapse will almost definitely come first. Barring that, we’ve got nothing except our small attempts to retain our humanity.

Catch as Catch Can
A Play

THERESA

I’m worried she’ll be a fish out of water.

 

ROBERTA

When do we meet her? When’re they movin’?


THERESA

Not now. Soon. We’ll see. They’re waiting to see if Mingjing can transfer jobs.


            ROBERTA puts down her cookie.


ROBERTA

What’s her name?

 

THERESA

Minjung.


ROBERTA

Theresa.


            THERESA sips tea.


THERESA

She’s in architecture, works for a big firm out there

 

ROBERTA

(indicating the under-eye skin) Those dark circles, no wonder.

 

THERESA

But she might give it up and teach.

 

ROBERTA

You seen her only once?

 

THERESA

Tim never said any—why would I think

 

ROBERTA

Such a rush.

 

THERESA

My brain’s exploded.

 

ROBERTA

I knew it: how far gone is she?

 

Note: A male actor plays the roles of both THERESA and her son TIM. A second male actor plays the roles of both ROBERTA and her son ROBBIE.

Orient Point
Poems

Coyotes invade. They claim to be the truth.

Black bears nose the bougainvillea, moving

eastward, indiscriminate, original.

Our sinks back up, our toilets will not drain,

our nature disobediently tends toward nature.

We Sinners
A Novel

Her plan had been to clean in the middle of the night, so her mother would wake to an empty kitchen sink, but as she stood in the foyer, the bathroom fan beating loudly and uselessly, the mess before her made her want to cry; being in a family of eleven made her want to cry, the way someone had soaked up the dog’s pee but not thrown away the paper towel, the way responsibility divided by eleven meant no one was really responsible.

Officer Friendly and Other Stories

“Now, because it’s his birthday and he wasn’t supposed to make it this far, he asked that we throw him a bash, like the old Augusta blowouts, and he asked that at midnight we shoot him dead.”

 

I stared at him. He didn’t waver.

 

“We figure you’re the best guy to do it,” he said, slapping a hand on my shoulder.

 

“I’ve never even shot a gun,” I said.

 

He pulled up my shirt and took the gun from the back of my pants. “It’s pretty basic. Point and pull. You’ve seen the movies.” He aimed the pistol at the portrait of the old man, said “Bang” and faked the recoil, then blew imaginary smoke from the barrel.