A Literary Labyrinth
The implicit tradition in composing such briefs is, I believe, to set a professional tone of removal via the third person, but as we all know who’s crouched behind this digital curtain sewing up these sentences, why pretend it was written by someone else? At present I find myself scouring for the ideal graduate program—and by extension, analyzing the throbbing, blood-dripping heart of my writing—a pursuit proving more serpentine than I initially anticipated. To aid in this quest, I have gathered here and continue to transcribe the visions and fantasies that materialize in the richly macabre labyrinth of my mind. From short fiction to streams of consciousness born of a night’s indulgent haunts, this digital dream journal seeks to personify a bizarre but evocative cabinet of curiosities. These curated baubles of words, like Ariadne’s ball of red thread in the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur, twist about the pathways of my literary-minded psyche. Shall we find a monster therein? Liberation? Glory? Shall we find anything at all?
When I’m not threading away at my fiction or haunting the Victorian neighborhoods and ornate cocktail bars of my current city, I am most likely cultivating a nomadic lifestyle in impulsive roadtrips throughout eastern America—though I dream incessantly of being restored to the twisting, European alleyways of my childhood. For any inquiries, riddles, requests, or smart remarks, you may reach me by emailing andrewecorder@gmail.com or via Instagram @drewcorder
Yours from the Labyrinth,
Andrew E. Corder
a literary labyrinth 