Stuart M. Ross is a writer living in Chicago. He is using the “M” in as his middle initial to distinguish himself from the fine Canadian writer of the same name, if not also from the dentist and the self-help guru who also show up in a Google search before him. He created this domain to seem professional when he still believed in book publishing and it costs him $29 a year. It is also the reason he is writing this biographical blurb in the third person. His first novel is forthcoming from Eyewear Publishing in 2018, an event for which he and his mother are very excited. His previous work has appeared in DIAGRAM, Eclectica Magazine, Funhouse Magazine, HTML Giant, Pioneertown, The Awl, which was a horrible experience, The Fanzine, The Stockholm Review of Literature, Vol. 1 Brooklyn, and other places, which means loose leaf stapled to other sheets of loose leaf. He has been sending short fiction to the Paris Review since 1995, and to the New Yorker from 1995-2003, until someone said they stopped accepting unsolicited submissions, a statement’s veracity he never checked, probably out of relief. He is co-author of the novella Markson’s Pier, published by Essays & Fictions, a work he and his co-author, David Ewald, are proud of.
Stuart is a graduate of Queens College, City University of New York, the borough where he was also raised, and the Creative Writing program at the University of Notre Dame before it got edgy. He has been a resident of the Ragdale Foundation, the best three weeks of his life, and a Pushcart Prize nominee, although he doesn’t know what that means.
Stuart is a big fan of rock and rap, jazz and classical, female beauty, being told what to do by strong women, males who don’t wear sneakers with dress pants, public trans(por)forma(ta)tion, and the Oxford comma. The photo which is kind of right aligned to this text was taken in a Mexico City restaurant in December 2016. Stuart likes the photo. He was tan. He was thin. Usually, he smiles.