

THE CLARION (novel) out in September.
EVERYTHING WOULD BREAK (stories) in spring 2025.
Toronto Star Short Story Contest winner: Youth.
Humber Literary Review
Emerging Writers Fiction Contest 3rd Place: Bodies.
Toronto Star Short Story Contest winner: Cardinal.
The Writers' Trust of Canada /
McClelland & Stewart Journey Prize
nomination: The Apartment.
Longlisted in the CBC Short Story Prize (2022): Youth.
Longlisted in the CBC Short Story Prize (2020): Bodies.
Longlisted in the CBC Short Story Prize (2019): Bodies.
Published by The Temz Review: The Apartment.
Published by Grain Magazine: Stupid.
Published by The Opiate: Kin.
Headshot by Brianna Roye.
"the stories came across to me as being —
because you know I read hundreds
of short stories every year —
they came across to me as being the real thing"
— John Metcalf, author of 'The canadian short story'
CONTEST JUDGES
"clean writing unfolds the perfectly paced narrative in a powerfully quiet way;
there's not a word out of place"
FICTION EDITOR
"the images and prose are stunning”
FOUNDER
"precisely the reason I loved the story, because it doesn't flinch"
CONTEST JUDGE
"stayed with me long after reading it"
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
"simultaneously unique yet all too relatable ... timeless human feeling"
Represented by Akin Akinwumi at Willenfield Literary Agency.
Born in Belgrade and brought to Toronto as an infant. Grew up in Scarborough and Pickering, attended the University of Toronto, graduated from Centennial College for journalism. Earned a graduate certificate in creative writing from the Humber School for Writers — Humber offered free admission to the winner of the Toronto Star Short Story Contest. I am grateful for that opportunity.
Also a freelance journalist — bylines (under my legal name) include Storeys.com, StarMetro, Toronto Star, CBC Docs and The Globe and Mail, among others.
Wandered in and out of various careers before starting fiction. Now living in Scarborough again.
There was something pure about them, like elements. Life was long with so much sameness and repetition, life had a way of tempering you out, smoothing and polishing you down. Teenagers were pure like animals, elemental, hot and bright or dark and cold, sparking off each other, reactive and explosive. But sloppy and blind and foolish, with bravado so charming and pathetic; they were mere children who had grown too big, still smashing into things.
She remembered earlier years when she did not like teenagers, saw something cynical in that bravado. But her only child had died before birth and it had left her so fatally humbled and longing. She saw so much wounded innocence and longing in them. And pride and vanity and struggling to pull themselves out of the bewildering madness of youth — the struggle to become someone, even only just themselves.
photos by DTD © copyright nina dunic