Short version
I write stories about ordinary people who do their best in a world that rarely plays fair. My characters are flawed, stubborn, and trying to make sense of what’s broken around them — and inside themselves. Through fiction and curated anthologies, I explore what it means to keep doing good when life has left its marks.

The longer story
My love of writing grew out of my love of reading. My mother was a teacher, and books were part of the air we breathed. Some of my earliest memories are of her reading aloud, the sound of her voice making sense of the world before I could.

I learned to write in university while studying history, and again in seminary while studying theology. Professors kept telling me I had a gift for words, but it took time to find what kind of writer I actually was. Non-fiction always felt like a stiff suit; fiction let me loosen my collar and wrestle with ideas through people’s lives instead of lectures.

I’m originally from the United States but now live in Birmingham, England. Before that, I spent years in the Valleys of Wales — a place that shaped me deeply. There’s a Welsh word, hiraeth, meaning a longing for something you can’t quite get back. That word lives quietly inside much of my work. The city where my stories unfold often feels tight and airless, mirroring that sense of yearning and loss.

My characters carry their own versions of hiraeth. They’ve lost things — relationships, careers, illusions — but still keep trying to do some good in the world. They remind me, and I hope remind readers, that brokenness doesn’t disqualify anyone from making a difference.

When I’m not working on fiction, I edit and publish The Seven Day Anthology Series, collections of classic short stories that open the door to great authors without the intimidation of massive novels. The idea came from my repeated failure to finish War and Peace and the discovery of Tolstoy’s “How Much Land Does a Man Need?” Short stories became a way to offer readers a taste of timeless writing — seven stories, one for each day of the week. If a reader connects with one author or genre, maybe they’ll stay for more.

I still read a lot of pulp fiction from the ’60s to the ’80s — the kind you used to find on spinning wire racks in supermarkets. Fast, human, and unpretentious. That’s the kind of fiction I want to write: entertaining and accessible, but carrying something real underneath.

Writing, for me, is equal parts discipline and grace. I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but I write to make sense of the questions — about justice, loss, and the quiet resilience of ordinary lives.

If you enjoy stories about flawed people trying to set things right, you’ll feel at home here. I hope you’ll stay a while and find something that stirs you.

— Jodie Gaston