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Eighteen, Both of Us

Eighteen, Both of Us By Sarah Weaver   |  November 12, 2018
And still unkissed. Blame it on our strict Christian homes, the rules at the Bible school we were attending, guilt, or just plain old nerves....

Correction

Correction By Sian Griffiths   |  November 5, 2018
I am correcting your typos (fallow becoming follow, gooing becoming going), correcting the interesting but incorrect with the boring and banal because what you meant was boring and banal....

The Thrill of Narrative Incompleteness

The Thrill of Narrative Incompleteness By Jessica Handler   |  November 1, 2018
At first glance, the photographic record of Black River Falls, Wisconsin, shows an average town for the time, from 1890 to 1910....

Art Lesson (repeat)

Art Lesson (repeat) By Joanne Lozar Glenn   |  October 29, 2018
They saved it for Fridays. Every teacher had the same projects. Fall: iron leaves between waxed paper. Winter: chalk snow scenes on black construction paper. Spring: draw daffodils. Except for Miss Malik. She was young, pretty, and not a nun....

The Day to Day (repeat)

The Day to Day (repeat) By Jessica Terson   |  October 22, 2018
Sifting the flour. Squeezing the lever once. And then waiting. For a moment, it is winter again. I take my finger and make snow angels in the little blue bowl. After you died, they said the only thing to do was keep on living....

Maps

Maps By Abby Mims   |  October 15, 2018
Dr. A, my mother's handsome Bolivian neurosurgeon, lost his father on Everest. I pictured whorls of snow, a crumpled map and a man, stepping into thin air....

Window Vent

Window Vent By Lynne Barrett   |  October 8, 2018
You take me for a ride in a sixties Oldsmobile. The radio doesn't work and you had to put additive in the gas....

Chucking Hail Marys from the Throw Line: On Failing to Define the CNF Chapbook

Chucking Hail Marys from the Throw Line: On Failing to Define the CNF Chapbook By Penny Guisinger   |  October 4, 2018
I'm pretty sure that the day Thomas Larson asked me to write a review of creative nonfiction chapbooks was the same day I said to a room full of people at AWP, "I don't know what a chapbook is."

Late

Late By Laurel Santini   |  October 1, 2018
You hoped she wouldn't show up today, the student who scares you. She in her crop tops and lace-up tanks, her camis with labels like Juicy or Nasty Gal that stick up between her thick shoulder blades....

My Grandmother's Pie Plate

My Grandmother's Pie Plate By Kiley Bense   |  September 24, 2018
I'm the one filling it now, and I've never minded sugar under my fingernails less. Its surface is dark with shine; it's been swallowing butter and heat for two lifetimes at least....

The Band Reunited and We All Bought Tickets

The Band Reunited and We All Bought Tickets By Darlene Young   |  September 17, 2018
Praise God for a venue with a parking lot....

Vantage Point

Vantage Point By Donna Steiner   |  September 10, 2018
Some boys found a little brown bat in the parking lot outside the surgeon's office. Delicate as a tea bag, they poked it with a stick, kicked it....

A Grandmother Listens

A Grandmother Listens By Gail Hosking   |  September 3, 2018
She is a bird in song with whole consonants flying out of the cave of her tiny mouth, the tones airborne like a floating leaf. She hands me a block, and with it comes language not yet molded into comprehension, but so sweet, that I listen carefully like one does on a forest walk....

A Failing Body Summons a Restless Mind: A Polio Memoir

A Failing Body Summons a Restless Mind: A Polio Memoir By Katharine Coldiron   |  September 1, 2018
Sandra Gail Lambert is not interested in being anyone's inspiration. If this review called her memoir in essays, A Certain Loneliness, inspiring, the author would recoil....

2016 Book Prize Winner a Finalist in WILLA Literary Awards

2016 Book Prize Winner a Finalist in WILLA Literary Awards August 30, 2018
Earlier this month Women Writing the West (WWW) announced the 2018 WILLA Literary Award Winners and Finalists. The 2016 River Teeth book prize winner, Rough Crossing: An Alaskan Fisherwoman’s Memoir by Rosemary McGuire, was one of two finalists in the category of Creative Nonfiction.
Keywords: book prize, contest

A Total Solar Eclipse Is Visible from Any Given Point on Earth Once Every 375 Years, on Average

A Total Solar Eclipse Is Visible from Any Given Point on Earth Once Every 375 Years, on Average By Catherine Pierce   |  August 27, 2018
We'd gone to the lake to watch. We had the special glasses, and I toggled between gaping at the razor-precise disappearing of the sun and looking down at my children to make sure they both had their glasses properly affixed.

Away and Away, Then To: A Memoir

Away and Away, Then To: A Memoir By Susan Rukeyser   |  August 20, 2018
The placenta blocked my exit. I was lifted from my mother just in time. London, 1968—bound for my father's USA. The month between Martin and Bobby; I imagine everyone sad.

In Answer to Fire

In Answer to Fire By Maya Khosla   |  August 13, 2018
For a long time, we could not go back. But once we were done averting our eyes, once we had mourned and banished all smoldering thoughts about the tribe of blackened trees replacing the known world for now and another season, and the last long fingers of smoke were ushered out by wind, a ticking began....

Walking

Walking By Jia Lim   |  August 6, 2018
I do not want to be naked. The thought consumes me to the point of obsession. As we crunch across the luminous blue-gray glacier, as we delicately spear a rack of the best lamb I've ever had in my life, as we drive for hours in the liquid darkness searching for the northern lights, my mind churns over scenarios....

One Reader's Homage to Two Dogeared Authors

One Reader's Homage to Two Dogeared Authors By Robert Root   |  August 1, 2018
The next time you stop by my house, ask to see my copy of Patricia Hampl's The Art of the Wasted Day, her most recent book. You may not know that long ago, feeling guilty about writing in the margins of books, I began dogearing pages where the author wrote something I hoped to remember....

Visitation (rerun)

Visitation (rerun) By Kelsey E. Moore   |  July 30, 2018
On the porch, under a Blood Moon, our fire is dying down, so we wear wool blankets over our shoulders. We're drinking cider warmed in a pan on the stove, splashed into mugs with whiskey....

Interruptions (rerun)

Interruptions (rerun) By Sheldon Lawrence   |  July 23, 2018
Seek stillness. Close your eyes, relax in the lotus position, and breathe deeply. But hold on tight. Search every corner of the cosmos and you find only a universe in motion....

Waiting for Owls (rerun)

Waiting for Owls (rerun) By Mark Liebenow   |  July 16, 2018
Evening returns to the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and the land cools. Day follows the sun across the valley floor and up into the mountains in the west. Birds settle down for the night.

The Sweetness of Figs

The Sweetness of Figs By Lisa Reily   |  July 9, 2018
I am at home here like I have not been anywhere else in my life. Home in the heat of dripping fig trees, their treacle tears that drop-by-drop onto the dry ground, the sour smell of wine in the air....

Excalibur

Excalibur By Jessica Gigot   |  July 2, 2018
We sprinted by the worn house with the closed blinds that reeked of pot and who knows what else. I gave the leash a short tug and we slowed to a walk again....

A Mother's Tale, An Enabled Son, The Damage Done

A Mother's Tale, An Enabled Son, The Damage Done By David MacWilliams   |  July 1, 2018
Meg McGuire's memoir explores addiction, mental disorder, denial, guilt, and the destructive effects of a parent's love....

Mail Order

Mail Order By Ksenia Panova   |  June 25, 2018
You know what I heard, I heard your mother was a mail order briiiiiiide. The girl with a thoroughly sensible name in my first-grade class drew out the last word, and I struggled with the new sentence structure....

Leave-Taking

Leave-Taking By Chris Erickson   |  June 18, 2018
Sassafras, shagbark hickory, spicebush, paw paws and sycamores marked the descent to the creek. The untillable acres, as they call them. The hills too steep and outcrops too rocky. The forgotten backs of farms....

The Petals of Summer

The Petals of Summer By Marybeth Holleman   |  June 11, 2018
They lie like bits of tissue on the bathroom floor rug, caught in the fibers; I bend to pick them up and see the yellow and pink threadworn veins, dry and broken and translucent pieces of geranium and nasturtium....

This Is What Men Do

This Is What Men Do By Diana Rico   |  June 4, 2018
At the tiny Eretz Shalom Cemetery on the mesa south of Taos, I feel like I have stepped into a John Ford Western. The impossibly big New Mexican sky dwarfs the mourners standing in sagebrush around a six-foot-deep hole in the ground....

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