Diane Williams
Diane Williams is the author of eleven books of fiction, including I Hear You’re Rich, just out from Soho Press (USA) and Scribe (UK). She is also the founder and editor of the distinguished literary annual NOON. She lives in New York City.
Diane Williams on Granta.com
Fiction | The Online Edition
I Hear You’re Rich
Diane Williams
“I hear you’re rich. Can you give me some of your money? I hear you’re rich. ”
Fiction by Diane Williams.
Fiction | The Online Edition
Nancy’s Victory
Diane Williams
‘She saw a small swatch of pink and supposed a sunset was out there and thought, What can that knockout pink do for me?’
New fiction by Diane Williams.
Fiction | Issue 156
One Muggy Spring, Thanks, Dot and Secretly Try
Diane Williams
Three short stories by Diane Williams.
Fiction | The Online Edition
Più Vivo
Diane Williams
‘You’ve seen I’m sure a performer on stage stock-still – during which time he waits for his ovation. This is how I am these days.’
New fiction from Diane Williams.
Fiction | The Online Edition
Tale of Human Adventure
Diane Williams
‘The whole experience of writing this was enjoyable, as is the entire seriousness with which I take myself.’ New fiction by Diane Williams
Fiction | The Online Edition
Grief in Moderation
Diane Williams
‘The tiny daisies were scored by the shadows of the slats of the venetian blinds and the stripes were shivering.’ Diane Williams.
Fiction | The Online Edition
Day of Awe
Diane Williams
New short fiction from Diane Williams' Collected Stories. ‘I fear I lack deep feelings, have flighty ideas, and am often irritable over trifles.’
Fiction | The Online Edition
The Fucking Lake
Diane Williams
New short fiction from Diane Williams. ‘The major events of my life are done with, except, of course, for my final downfall.’
Fiction | The Online Edition
Witchcraft Today
Diane Williams
‘Two women appeared embracing two of a kind – that is each woman held onto a globular lamp base that had luster.’
Fiction | The Online Edition
The Beauty and the Bat
Diane Williams
‘I knew who she was well enough, by then – a competent woman in earnest who didn’t like me.’