C.E. McKenna is a writer, historian, and software engineer from Colorado. She has history theses in the libraries of Reed College and Oklahoma State, and her short stories and essays have been published in On Fire and Under Water: A Climate Change Crime Fiction Anthology, Hippocampus, The Offing, Cagibi, Lumina, Quarterly West, Northwest Review, and Shift. In 2022, she completed AWP’s 17th Writer to Writer Mentorship Program, and in 2024 was invited to the Chateau d'Orquevaux for a 4-week writing residency. She is currently an MFA student at UC Riverside - Palm Desert with an expected graduation of 2027.
Most of C.E. McKenna's work focuses on the untold stories of the American West. Her short fiction and research often deals with the dangers of western environments—particularly wildland fire. Her long-form work combines deft historical research with speculative fiction, resulting in vivid, thrilling pageturners. Her first novel, The Haunting of Lydia Struan, is about the murderous origins of Stanford University.
She lives in Boulder, Colorado, with her husband, Miles, and dog, Otter. She works as a software developer and spends her free time traipsing high country trails by foot and cross-country ski, attempting to avoid moose.
“Svalbard glows under the full November moon. It's early afternoon—only one PM—but the sun never even peeks over the horizon. There's just a hint of deep blue twilight before the island slips back into a generous polar night."
“Lisette Dubois has lived in Stillwater, Oklahoma for only three days when she decides she wants a dog.
She wakes up with the feeling, wakes with her forehead touching Brennan’s on the damp pillow. She turns and smiles at the popcorn ceiling of her first adult house. No parents, no roommates, just her and the man she loves in a four-room cottage with a one-car garage and an overgrown backyard."
“We didn’t burn the house down with newspaper, crumpled, and wood. Fire didn’t erupt from the hearth, belching glowing ash onto the rug. It didn’t smolder, burn, and catch flame to the paperback I left splayed open on the coffee table."
“It’s Wednesday morning and I flinch when I look at my computer. I can’t even open it to quit my terminal, exit the tabs, and slack my boss I’m sick.
I’m not sick, anyway.
I’m sick and tired, which is much different."
“Let’s dissociate for a sec.
There she is: white girl drunk on the dance floor of the Reed
student union. It’s all dark, pinewood paneling with an open-air
loft. Unmatched, thrifted couches pushed to the sides of the
large room, smelling of American Spirits and stale beer.
Patchouli. Old weed."
“Iwas wailing then, screaming at her to get off me. And she said it again, “Pain’s not the end. You have to fight."
Listen to C.E. McKenna read the essay:
“Do you know how to count in binary?” says Dad. He’s sitting at the butcher-block countertop in my kitchen, sipping PG Tips. The discarded, soggy tea bag and canister of sugar crowd his laptop. I worry when he tilts the screen, he’ll knock something over and I’ll need to clean it up.
“The dining hall thunders like a July storm over the Flatirons.
You lead nine guys in palomino linen shirts through the standing ovation that started in the bar and unfurled like a signal flare all the way to the kitchen. Cooks emerge to join in."
“I had heard of “The Fire” all through my childhood. It was incorporated into stories of Gold Hill in passing, as in, “And then, of course there was ‘The Fire,’ which nearly wiped out the town.” Any time someone relayed the town’s history, they used this phrase. Children in the two-room schoolhouse, visitors to the small museum, or friends sitting in the the living room of one of the town’s log cabins heard about “The Fire.” It referenced an event that took place over a century ago, a wildland fire that never even touched the town proper, but was an indelible piece of the Gold Hill narrative. Then, 105 years and 10 months later, the phrase changed over the course of a few hours, and suddenly referenced something modern and immediate."
“On May 6, 1938, over three hundred horsemen rode down the Santa Ynez Valley in Southern California. The men—and the group was made up of all men—were dressed as if they had stepped out of a Western film. In cowboy hats and spurs, with handkerchiefs tied ‘round their necks, they rode on Paints, Quarter horses, and Palominos. Some men drove surreys, others stagecoaches. In a long line they paraded through the chaparral, laughing and joking with one another."
“The Victorian endowed public schools were some of the most paradoxical institutions in Britain. Though they were called public, they were private and extremely exclusive. Though they claimed to provide “education for young gentlemen,” many of their methods were questionable, and they were commonly associated with beatings, bullies and barbaric athletics."
Kate graciously sat down with C.E. McKenna of The Coachella Review to chat about her newest book, Alterations, her writing process, and her love of Hollywood’s Golden Age.
A conversation with Alan Warren for the House of Mystery Radio Show on NBC. Listen wherever you get your podcasts, or click on the link below!
On Fire and Under Water: A Climate Change Crime Fiction Anthology, edited by Curtis Ippolito, features a collection of excellent short stories written by fifteen seasoned crime fiction authors set against the backdrop of climate change.
Authors from a new anthology explore the crimes, injustices, and consequences of this existential crisis.
Yesterday, I decided to close my Meta
accounts.
It took me nearly no time to decide that it’s what I wanted to do, though I did struggle with the repercussions. And it took days.
Lucky for you, I wrote down some notes.
THE HAUNTING OF LYDIA STRUAN is about the murderous origins of Stanford University. It follows Lydia Struan, a History grad student and the black sheep of an old-money family, who is bent on solving Jane Stanford's century-old murder. When she accidentally summons the ghost of her prime suspect, she discovers that her own family is intricately tied to the murder — and that there is still a killer on the loose.
For over a century, Kirst Mördusçu and Ednna Kirstenesçu gave themselves a directive to guide their immortality: protect women from evil men. And it wasn't hard to find prey in the brothels and pool halls of De Wallen, Amsterdam's red-light district. Sommeliers of blood, they tasted the varied flavors of sex tourist and aggravating locals, showering vengeance upon the insecure, the audacious, and the violent.
But one night, Ednna disappeared. Kirst could feel it—her offspring had died the true death. Which meant that she had six months to sire a new vampire. But Ednna couldn't be replaced. She had been too distinct, too unique. Now, Kirst only has two weeks to find someone to turn immortal. Someone strong, someone violent, someone she can spend eternity with.
Get in touch with C.E. McKenna by emailing her at author.cemckennna@gmail.com