Brittany Eden

Thanks for knocking loudly. I’m Brittany. I sing Handel’s Messiah, cosmically loud. Other than Bluey, I think that masterpiece of music is the best storytelling since the Bible. I used to swing dance often with my husband in the kitchen to Michael Bublé or Newsies, but now we’re more likely to randomly break into song from Les Misérables or The Greatest Showman, much to the chagrin—or delight—of our three children. Honestly, it depends on the day.

Now I write bittersweet prose in stolen moments; starcrossed romance of a kind, with timeless endings. But we can call it sad swoon, if you like. You know, the feel of cold air amid dappled light when the sun rays yet promise warmth. I love stories. If my attempts at poetic prose rekindle your hope for transformed hearts and renewed gardens with stone walls reaching for eternal starlight, then perhaps I’ll have lived up to my middle name, Eden.

So please, have a chair. If we share enough tea, I might even tell you about my summer in the Circus.