Jan Priddy

P.O. Box 1442
Cannon Beach, OR 97110

Author's Bio

Jan Priddy was born in Corvallis, Oregon and completed two Bachelor of Fine Arts degrees in the visual arts and a BA in Education at the University of Washington, cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa.  Her metal work and ceramic sculpture was shown in galleries and museums throughout the west. And then she had children. Her writing has earned publication in CALYX, Raven Chronicles, StringTown, Pacific Magazine, WORK, The Humanist, Brevity blog, and North American Review, as well as inclusion in Women Runners (2001) and What Does It Mean to Be White in America? (2016). Since completing the Pacific University MFA program in fiction (2017), she continues writing fiction, nonfiction, and poetry, and teaching college classes on the north Oregon coast. 

Publications and Prizes

"Runner's High" in Women Runners
(Breakaway Books, 2001)
, What Does It Mean to Be White in America?
(2Leaf Press, 2016)
Calyx, Ink-Filled Page, Monkey Puzzle, Mused Literary Journal, Ontologica, RAIN, Raven Chronicles, Stringtown, The Humanist, The MacGuffin, VoiceCatcher, Work
Prizes Won: 
“Best of the Best” award in the holiday Brevity Smile Contest, for “On Yoolis Night" (2015), Finalist in the 2010 Howard Frank Mosher Short Fiction Prize in Hunger Mountain (2010); Honorable Mention Short Story Award for New Writers in Glimmer Train (2009); Class Speaker for Pacific University MFA graduation (2007); Soapstone residency (2005); Oregon Literary Arts Fellowship (2003); Arts & Letters fellowship (2002); Pushcart nomination (2001); Fiction Prize from Oregon Writers Colony (2001); Teacher as Writer Award from OCTE (1996).

More Information

Listed as: 
Creative Nonfiction Writer, Fiction Writer, Poet
Gives readings: 
Travels for readings: 
Prefers to work with: 
Fluent in: 
Born in: 
Corvallis, OR
Raised in: 
Corvallis, Portland, and Seattle, WA
EYEBROW WINGS My son has shaved round his eyebrows. I am not supposed to notice, as if they shaped themselves, once he made his preference known. At just fifteen his moustache is a stipple, his beard a mere suggestion of goatee, but these eyebrows take flight, a swath of beaten foliage, sheltering his sight. Thick and broad above his eyes, peregrine wings feather wide, emphatic statements. He has taken razor to brow bone, temple, forehead, shaved a new form, tame, one slim word each, removed that raucous grown vocabulary. Caught by surprise, he smiles elf-bright, eyes wide, these new softspoke brows. He denies he’s clipped them, impatient as his grin, moves off. from North American Review
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Last updated: Feb 16, 2017