Poppy Adler published her first piece of literature in the

fourth grade. It was a really unusual poem about clouds that

changed colors and shapes, with psychedelic undertones that

didn’t make sense for a ten-year-old who lived in the rural

South. Now, looking back at that as an adult, it checks out.

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(“How many jam band shows have you been to, Poppy?”

Don’t ask questions if you aren’t prepared to know the

answer.)

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Poppy has been writing ever since, mostly in the form of legal

jargon at a desk job that never felt quite right.
 

Equal parts Grace Kelly and Jerry Garcia, Poppy loves

nothing more than a great blowout, red fingernails, Labrador

Retrievers, and talking about nostalgia and hope and the

vastness of space with anyone who is willing to skip the small

talk.

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If you like books that feel like sunshine, characters who have

done the work in therapy, and girl’s girls, you’ll love Poppy

Adler.

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If you have something nice to say, come sit by me.