There is winter in Luke Hawley’s blood.  A dryness in his humor, an urge to huddle close to the warmth of his melody, a gruffness to his voice, like a thick lumberjack beard. His stories are wholly Midwestern, unassuming and funny, and you’ll find they stay with you through the bleak, help with the coping, without asking much in return. But Hawley knows the cold of winter is only a mirage and his words echo his vision; a storyteller in both short fiction and song form, he weaves the hope of spring into the horizon. He is the best parts of winter: the moody gray sky, sun coming in late to bounce brightly off the white atmosphere, cracking the tree limbs and relieving the evergreens of their burdens.

He currently lives in the cold of Minnesota with his wife and two small kids, where he spends his time writing, growing a beard, and building bookcases out of old windows. During the week, he teaches at Dordt College in rural northwestern Iowa.