My debut short story collection-GOING TOO FAST–now available for pre-ordering


Going Too Fast by Lynne Viti


Advance Reviews for Going Too Fast

Going Too Fast is a masterfully composed collection of distinct but interrelated stories whose characters teeter on the fine edge between adolescence and adulthood. With arresting attention to detail, humor, and poignancy, Viti’s stories of love, loss, friendship, and family will resonate long after you’ve read them.

–Anne M. Brubaker, Wellesley College

The stories in Going Too Fast are both poetic and truthful, as Viti weaves together the prosaic and the extraordinary.  In so doing, she moves her readers in and out of time. Like her characters, the stories have their feet in two worlds. Like a “tightrope artist,” the author delights, provokes, and entertains her readers in this shimmering new collection.

–Heather Corbally Bryant, Wellesley College, author, You Can’t Wrap Fire in Paper

“In these beautifully crafted stories, Lynne Viti lets readers effortlessly enter the world of the characters – whether it’s a 1960’s Manhattan college campus or the “wide cinder stub of a road” in Baltimore. Readers will appreciate Viti’s impeccable use of detail, her clear language, and the even-tempered, retrospective tone of her prose. These stories resonate; they stick around like fragments and figures of one’s own past.”

–Margaret Cezair-Thompson, Author of The True History of Paradise and The Pirate’s Daughter

$19.99, full-length, paper


Lynne Viti‘s recent publications are Baltimore Girls (2017), The Glamorganshire Bible (2018), Finishing Line Press,  and microchapbooks Punting (2017) and Dreaming Must Be Done in the Daytime (2019),Origami Poems Project.  She received Honorable Mentions in the WOMR/Joe Gouveia Outermost Poetry Contest (2018 and 2019). She blogs at

 To order, go to



Two nights after
the president was shot
my mother went out.

She put on silver blue eyeshadow.
She wore her Persian lamb jacket
with the mink collar.

It was the year
she was having the kitchen redone.
The house was in disarray.

I sat on our brocade sofa.
I watched
the small black and white tv.
It sat in a temporary place
atop an end table.

I watched
the news replay
Jack Ruby shooting Oswald.

A boy I thought I liked came by.
I didn’t like the way
he chugged from the green Coke bottle,
swished it around like mouthwash
before he swallowed.

I never forgave my mother.
I wanted her to sit
on the sofa with me
and cry.



— from my first poetry collection, Baltimore Girls, Finishing Line Press, 2017

To order: Baltimore Girls,  go to


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Pre-orders for my Short Story collection, “Going Too Fast,” have begun!

cover -GTF


To order, go to…/going-too-fast-by-lyn…/. Linked short stories set in Baltimore, Ocean City, New York, Boston and DC. If you preorder, you can expect to receive your copy the week of March 16, 2020.

You might even see something of yourself in one or two of these stories! (Not to worry: all similarities between persons living o dead and characters in this work of fiction are PURELY COINCIDENTAL!)

Please order a copy today to help me attain a decent press run at this small literary press. I’ll receive author copies  (as many as 25 or 50 depending on the # of pre-orders and the pressrun) in lieu of royalties so preorders are key.

Profits from sale of those author’s copies will go to Mercy High Baltimore and Epiphany School Boston scholarship and development  funds–both schools serve urban students.

Thanks, friends and readers!

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Murphy in August

My poem was inspired by a social media post from Richard Murphy announcing his impending retirement. Richard, Gloria, Dan and my sister Anne were housemates on Reynolds Road in Danbury, when they were students at Western Connecticut State, in the ‘Seventies. “Murphy in August” appears in the latest issue of the Muddy River Poetry Review, and you can read it here.


Note: According to wikipedia, the Muddy River is a series of brooks and ponds that runs through sections of Boston’s Emerald Necklace, including along the south boundary of Brookline, Massachusetts (which formerly was known as Muddy River Hamlet before it was incorporated in 1705).

Amy Rigby, post-punk singer- songwriter–and now, memoirist– with a lot of attitude, at the Parlor Room in Northampton


When I woke up today I had a song in my head
I wanna wanna wanna go home
They played it last night when I was dancing with Joey Ramone

My husband turned me on to Amy Rigby, a sort of post-punk singer songwriter with a lot of attitude and irony in her lyrics. He had first heard about her from the esteemed and quirky rock critic Robert Christgau. Listening to Rigby’s songs for the past few years, I’ve come to love her outrageousness and her insight into herself and the difficult maneuvers women make when dealing with men, children, love, work, and — well, life. My favorites: “Like Rasputin,”Dancing With Joey Ramone,” (complete with noisy guitar feedback a la Ramones), “Needy Men,”The Summer of My Wasted Youth.”

When can we hear her? I asked one afternoon when Rigby’s 2005 CD Little Fugitive played, as we chopped and sliced vegetables for homemade pizza. Continue reading “Amy Rigby, post-punk singer- songwriter–and now, memoirist– with a lot of attitude, at the Parlor Room in Northampton”

I’m back!

Hunkering down these past weeks to write.

Check out poetry super highway this week–I’m one of two poets of the week, and my poem “Biography” is published on the site. Baltimore -born readers especially, you might find this resonates with you.

I read my poem “Leftovers” on WCAI-FM Cape & the Islands Radio today–I invite you to listen here:

WCAI Cape and the Islands

It’s Reunion Season….

Reunion season…I’m looking forward to reading on May 31 with poet/ Barnard classmate Suzanne Noguere and others, at our Barnard reunion, and on June 8, at Wellesley College. Hope to see old friends at Barnard and friends and former students –especially from Wellesley Reunion Classes of 1994,1999, 2004, 2009 & 2014–my Wellesley Reunion reading is on Saturday, June 8th 3:30-4 PM in Pendleton West 001. Q& A and book signing to follow!

Shades at the Reunion

When we gather like this around the table,

every five or ten years, drinks in hand, raising toasts,

in the back of our minds, always, are the ghosts:

The cousin who died at forty, when the cancer flared.

The school friend, gone at barely fifty—she loved her smokes.

Toxins and her genes did her in.

The rest of us—we’ve survived,

though we’re not sure why or how.

My friend the hard-edged newsman

laughed when he told me his on-air transition phrase

“elsewhere in the news”—as if we could

move from tsunami to oil spill to death of an ex-president

with any kind of grace. When he lay dying

in his hospital bed in Croton-on-Hudson

this old journalist stared at tv images of Baltimore burning.

It’s all like it was before, he murmured.

Knowing all this, we sit in the cool air,

September sun on our faces,

hearing the songbirds carry on

like Yeats’ miracles in Byzantium.