phone: 213-864-9243
email: mdconboy1@gmail.com
Michael Conboy
Michael Conboy is a writer of fiction and memoir. His work has been included in the quarterly Three Fold, the Supergay Detroit blog, the literary journal Southland Alibi, and the Detroit queer history zine Chromatic Aberrations. In 2020, his short story Happy Hour, placed second for the James Kirkwood Literary Prize. He recently completed his first novel, HOMO DIPSO MANIA.
Michael honed his craft working as a creative director in L. A., but most of his writing is inspired by his experiences growing up in Detroit during the second half of the 20th century. The city, once known as “the Arsenal of Democracy,” had been gutted by recession, leaving those behind to survive under the weight of unemployment, racism, and homophobia as the shadow of AIDS crept inward from the coasts. With his writing, Conboy seeks to shed light on the experiences of his fellow Midwesterners who came of age during those tough times.
He lives with his husband in the Beverly Grove neighborhood of Los Angeles.
email: mdconboy1@gmail.com
phone: 213.864.9243
Michael Conboy
Michael Conboy is a writer of fiction and memoir. His work has been included in the quarterly Three Fold, the Supergay Detroit blog, the literary journal Southland Alibi, and the Detroit queer history zine Chromatic Aberrations. In 2020, his short story Happy Hour, placed second for the James Kirkwood Literary Prize. He recently completed his first novel, HOMO DIPSO MANIA.
Michael honed his craft working as a creative director in L. A., but most of his writing is inspired by his experiences growing up in Detroit during the second half of the 20th century. The city, once known as “the Arsenal of Democracy,” had been gutted by recession, leaving those behind to survive under the weight of unemployment, racism, and homophobia as the shadow of AIDS crept inward from the coasts. With his writing, Conboy seeks to shed light on the experiences of his fellow Midwesterners who came of age during those tough times.
He lives with his husband in the Beverly Grove neighborhood of Los Angeles.
email: mdconboy1@gmail.com
phone: 213.864.9243
“Opening the heavy black door was like rolling back the boulder from a tomb, a tomb without a savior. The only light came from behind translucent panels, filtered through green and amber bottles of alcohol lined up on the back of the bar. Shrugging off a wet chill from the air-conditioning, he heard Barry White growling softly about love, his voice like a warning you’d be eaten alive if the right guy ever came along.”
—Happy Hour by Michael Conboy
“Opening the heavy black door was like rolling back the boulder from a tomb, a tomb without a savior. The only light came from behind translucent panels, filtered through green and amber bottles of alcohol lined up on the back of the bar. Shrugging off a wet chill from the air-conditioning, he heard Barry White growling softly about love, his voice like a warning you’d be eaten alive if the right guy ever came along.”
—Happy Hour by Michael Conboy