chrissie anderson peters

Appalachian Author

Chrissie Anderson Peters is a Southwest Virginia native and the author of three books: Dog Days and Dragonflies, Running From Crazy, and Blue Ridge Christmas. Her writing can also be found  in Pine Mountain Sand & Gravel, The Mildred Haun Review, Still: The Journal, and Clinch Mountain Review, among other publications. Chrissie is currently at work on her fourth book, which is tentatively titled Chasing After Rainbows

Dog Days and Dragonflies
Running From Crazy
Blue Ridge Christmas

I’ve been writing almost as long as I’ve been reading. Words have always been a comfort and a strength…

Chrissie Anderson Peters takes us into the complicated, dark, and beautiful heart of contemporary Appalachia with these intriguing stories, essays, and poems.

Silas House, author of Same Sun Here and Parchment of Leaves

If you’re looking for brave vision in a new voice, Dog Days and Dragonflies is the book for you. Chrissie Anderson Peters’ stories of friendship, hardship, family love and betrayal will stay with you long past the last page

George Ella Lyon, author of She Let Herself Go

Again and again, Chrissie Anderson Peters reminds us about everything that’s magical, revealing the true spirit of Christmas.

Denton Loving, author of Crimes Against Birds

Recent Writing

Cleaning Out

Cleaning Out

We recently spent almost a week trying to get started cleaning out Russ’ parents’ house in the Northwest suburbs of Chicago. When my mom passed away, we didn’t have to do this. The doublewide on the God-forsaken Hill had been abandoned and was my sister Sarah’s...

Can You Feel It

Can You Feel It

On November 1, a long-time dream came true. I got to see the remaining Jacksons (sans Jermaine and Randy) perform a show at the Hard Rock Casino in Cincinnati, Ohio. I had thought that Jermaine would be there, so I was initially a little disappointed, but once the...

On Being Tired

On Being Tired

"She did not want to move, or to speak. She wanted to rest, to lean, to dream. She felt very tired.” – Virginia Woolf"She did not want to move, or to speak. She wanted to rest, to lean, to dream. She felt very tired.” – Virginia Woolf I feel this recently, all the way...