Volume 14 Number 1
Volume 14, Number 1
|Table of Contents||Headwaters|
It's been an exciting stretch at River Teeth: A Journal of Nonfiction Narrative--highlighted by our inaugural national conference. For three days in May, writers gathered in Ohio from across the United States for readings, workshops, manuscript evaluations, and late-night skull sessions about the best of nonfiction writing and why facts matter. Read More...
|From the time my siblings and I were very young, our blind parents taught us to assist them in ways they could not assist themselves.|
|“Three Sketches After My Dad's Death”|
I found out about my dad's death in a strange, perfect, terrible way.
"Bridges take my breath away," Betty said as we headed across the bridges from one Tampa body of water to the next.
|"Writing and Publishing a Memoir: What in the Hell Have I Done?”|
Andre Dubus III
It was early September at a college in upstate New York.
| “Do Not Read Out Loud” |
Laurie Rachkus Uttich
He will write about his mother, a broom handle, a belt, a coat hanger.
One of the nation's first school shootings took place at Seattle's Garfield High.
|“Wild Ducks” |
I look at our daughter across the restaurant table.
|"The Things Our Fathers Loved"|
|For years my mother kept a black-and-white snapshot of my father in her wallet.|
|“Notes Towards the Definition of an Essay”|
Anyone who has attempted to write about the essay knows how difficult the genre is to define.
While in graduate school I lived close to a cemetery, and the dead sent me greetings--bouquets of plastic orchids and wilted lilies blown by hurricane gales to my front yard, placards memorializing the dead, and small white squares of paper inadequately expressing the overwhelming sense of grief and sympathy felt at such a time.
|“Selling Out in the Writing of Memoir”|
Over twenty years ago, when I’d just started to publish a few short stories, my aunt told me some things about my father and the farming accident that cost him both of his hands.
|“Where Now Is” |
|Tonight, I found myself longing for the company of a great storyteller and I came to the Crestview Tavern because it’s a good place to miss something you never had and not feel too sad about it. Nobody ever bothers me here.|
|"Always a River”|
In the dark in the middle of the night I hear the river calling me, a low murmuring summons coming from the north.