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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.




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Categories: Fiction, Poetry, Creative Nonfiction
Availability: 3 hours per month
1-hour session: $20
2-hour session: $35

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CHRISSY KOLAYA’s poems and short fiction have appeared in anthologies by Norton, Milkweed Editions, the 50th Anniversary Best of Crazyhorse collection, and in a number of literary journals. In support for her work, Kolaya has received grants and awards from the Anderson Center for Interdisciplinary Studies, the Jerome Foundation, the Loft Literary Center, and the Minnesota State Arts Board, among others. She’s lived in New York, California, Indiana, Illinois, and Alabama, and now lives and teaches writing in Minnesota, where she’s one of the co-founders of the Prairie Gate Literary Festival. She’s the author of the novel Charmed Particles and a book of poems, Any Anxious Body.

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 Chrissy, 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.


Abhijat Mital accepted the position at the National Accelerator Research Lab with great pride. The offer itself was the realization of his greatest dream, now made concrete by the desk he would sit behind, the nameplate on his door, the drive every morning through the gates, where he would present his pass to the security guard who would, after a matter of weeks, begin to wave him through, recognizing Abhijat as one among the parade of scientists he’d been waving through those gates for years, and on that day, Abhijat would feel, at last, like he belonged.

He had written Sarala with the news that he’d accepted a position at the premier particle accelerator and research facility in the U.S., some argued in the world. The job would begin at the end of the semester, after he had fulfilled his academic commitments to the university.

In the evenings, he took the short, quiet walk from his office on campus to the small set of rooms he rented in the house of an emeritus professor of philosophy, with whom he sometimes enjoyed an evening game of chess before returning to his desk to pore over his work. As he walked, snow falling quietly around him as was common on those dark midwinter nights, he often caught himself peering into the lit-up windows of the houses he passed, imagining the life he and Sarala would make for themselves.