Elijah Douresseau
Elijah Douresseau hails from South Central Los Angeles. He received his BA in Creative Writing from Colorado College, class of 2013. Elijah loves to play with different forms of storytelling and implement them in new media for unconventional experiences.

He gets his aesthetic and creative juices from the various graphics narratives that paved the way for his books – namely comic books/graphic novels and illustrated novels. He writes for and co-hosts a few multimedia projects, primarily a podcast, Milk and Cookies: Relaxation Hour, and a Twitter microblog project: Bacon Bits On. Milk and Cookies is a comedy and health and wellness show, and Bacon Bits On anthologizes twiction (self-contained narratives as a Tweet; no longer than 140 characters) as a five-part story once a month.

Outside of writing and work, Elijah goes on food-ventures, gobbling up as much food and food-related literature and art that he can – for science. Really, he talks about food like it was the main sporting event to witness the night before. He prefers to concern himself with alimentary matters more often than not. Between meals, Elijah dabbles in collecting and competing in various trading card games and board games, in the hopes to one day be recruited by professional league scouts who think he could go all-the-way.
Chalkboard Specials, For Those Who Need Shelter Inside
By Elijah Douresseau
Ever had that cousin you see at family gatherings every six or so months, and that’s the only contact you have with him or her for a number of years? Whether that cousin is older or younger than you, you two both grow up, only seeing a sliver of each other’s lives for a few hours at a time, once or twice a year.

Occasionally, there’s a new set of braces, maybe some new facial hair, or a deeper voice some time after that. And maybe in a select few interactions with your cousin, it dawns on you that this relative has a unique life with a social network, with triumphs and agonizing losses, with odd sleeping habits and pet peeves. Of dreams to pursue.

You have a special invitation to walk with Vern Thompson, perhaps a guy not unlike that cousin you see every so often, and view what can actually be an extraordinary life. One of contested growth, and of newfound faith – learning your cousin is actually pretty okay to hang with, once you get past “What year in school are you in now?” or “What’s your major again?”
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