Julie Sellers

Julie A. Sellers is an Associate Professor of Spanish at Benedictine College, and she is also a Federally Certified Court Interpreter (English/Spanish). A native of Kansas, Julie has travelled extensively in Latin America and Spain. Julie published her poem "Yellow Butterflies" in Kansas Time + Place (2017), and her story, "Controlled Burn," was selected as the Short Story and Overall Prose winner of the 2017 Kansas Voices Writing Contest. Her third academic book, The Modern Bachateros: 27 Interviews (McFarland. 2017), received the Kansas Authors Club 2018 It Looks Like A Million Book Award.

Controlled Burn

The ranchers in the Flint Hills called it a controlled burn, insinuating that with sufficient intention they could master the elements. But Rebecca knew better—an unexpected change of the wind, a jumped fireguard, the barest instant of carelessness, and the ravenous pasture fires set in the region each spring could reduce such smugness to nothing but ashes. Her earliest memory was of fire; her earliest loss was to fire; fire had forged her, for better or worse, into the person she was.

Julie Sellers

Julie A. Sellers is an Associate Professor of Spanish at Benedictine College, and she is also a Federally Certified Court Interpreter (English/Spanish). A native of Kansas, Julie has travelled extensively in Latin America and Spain. Julie published her poem "Yellow Butterflies" in Kansas Time + Place (2017), and her story, "Controlled Burn," was selected as the Short Story and Overall Prose winner of the 2017 Kansas Voices Writing Contest. Her third academic book, The Modern Bachateros: 27 Interviews (McFarland. 2017), received the Kansas Authors Club 2018 It Looks Like A Million Book Award.

Controlled Burn

The ranchers in the Flint Hills called it a controlled burn, insinuating that with sufficient intention they could master the elements. But Rebecca knew better—an unexpected change of the wind, a jumped fireguard, the barest instant of carelessness, and the ravenous pasture fires set in the region each spring could reduce such smugness to nothing but ashes. Her earliest memory was of fire; her earliest loss was to fire; fire had forged her, for better or worse, into the person she was.

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