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5220 Dexter Ann Arbor Rd.
Ann Arbor, MI, 48103
United States

Dzanc Books is nonprofit press specializing in literary fiction and nonfiction. In addition to publishing activities, Dzanc Books also supports the Disquiet International Literary Program.







Categories: Fiction, Nonfiction
Availability: 2 hours per month
1-hour session: $20
2-hour session: $35

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Whether fiction, poetry or journalism, DESIREE COOPER is known for narrative compression. About her collection of flash fiction, Know the Mother (Wayne State University Press 2016), Shelf Awareness said: “Each exquisite miniature in Know the Mother provides a mural's worth of life.” Cooper has won many journalism awards for her columns in the Detroit Free Press and BLAC Magazine, including several from the Society of Professional Journalists and two Pulitzer Prize nominations. Know the Mother has won several awards from a 2017 Michigan Notable Book to the 2017 Next Generation Indie Book Award for Short Story. Mentees will especially benefit from her attention to diction and concision in both fiction and nonfiction.

Mentorship sessions are available at a cost of $20 for one hour, $35 for two hours, or $50 for four hours. All payments are processed through Submittable at the time of manuscript submission.

To book a mentoring session with Desiree, please select one, two, or four hours (depending on availability) from the product menu above.  Please continue clicking through the checkout process; though you will not be charged at this time, finishing your purchase reserves your hours with this mentor.  Though you will need to provide a billing address, you do not need to enter a credit card at this time.

Once your purchase is completed, a Dzanc staff member will be in touch to help you submit your manuscript and your payment through Submittable.


The law firm was no place for a woman, law review or otherwise. He said as much, sucking the end of his pipe, eyes gazing past his glasses to her tender breasts. She tried not to shrivel beneath his stare. She felt faint, like a rice-paddy woman bent in muddy water as a baby hardened her womb.

“Maternity leave?” he repeated, considering her quietly, a problem to be solved. Pipe smoke curled to the ceiling—a halo of power. His tie was burqa blue and lemon yellow, a robin’s egg cracked open, yolk running. He leaned forward and knocked his pipe on the crystal ashtray, filling the room with the linger of fire. She was nothing more than a useless bride, crossed legs as brown as firewood ready to be doused, life going up in saffron flames.

“If you wanted to have babies,” he said, smiling gently, “why did you go to law school?”