Blog

Sweet Remedy

By Jeniah Johnson   |  March 27, 2023
I slipped downstairs when the backdoor slammed, her boyfriend gone for the night. "My tummy," I cried running to my mother for a hug. "Stop!" She held up a hand. "Broken glass."

Outline as Structure: Scaffolding in a “Dark Barn”

By Micah Gjeltema   |  March 27, 2023
It is difficult to find an angle of approach when writing about a personal experience, a deeply held belief, an individual revelation. As River Teeth editor Jill Christman likes to say, "Life doesn't come with plot." When telling a

No Longer Strangers

By Peter Welch   |  March 20, 2023
I am a “book” with the Human Library and meet Eva, from Ukraine, at a virtual “reading,” along with other curious minds from Greece, Germany, Singapore, Ireland, the U.S. I am humbled that Eva has chosen to Zoom with us...

River Teeth Issue Preview 24.2

March 19, 2023
River Teeth 24.2 features the writing of Greg Bottoms, Elizabeth Carls, Jim Daniels, Michael Downs, Kathleen Driskell, Renata Golden, Diane Gottlieb, Sydney Lea, Ann Leamon, Leslie Jill Patterson, Julia Purks, Claudia F. Saleeby Savage, Layli Shirani, Jill Talbot, and Melissa Akie Wiley.

Editor's Notes 24.2

By Joe Mackall   |  March 19, 2023
Deep into his first memoir, What I Think I Did, the late Larry Woiwode writes several sentences that define him as a writer, revealing his material, his process, his calling. “I write more daily pages than ever, all background, prelude to my br

What Do You Want from Nature Writing?

By Jeff Darren Muse   |  March 17, 2023
What’s the situation in Conversations? Kumar’s passion for birds. Their biology, their lifeways, how she celebrates diverse species while also highlighting pernicious and ever-growing threats. In terms of plot, her book follows mile after mile of Kumar and her family pursuing eagles and hawks, owls and woodpeckers, whatever resides in or migrates through the American Southwest, especially New Mexico, her adopted state.

Accord

By Vandana Khanna   |  March 13, 2023
On weekends, my mother would sit me down between her legs in the tight space of our back patio and teach me about control. It was the only free time she had between work and looking after me, my brother, and my sick father.

Just Now

By Lesley Stanley Roberts   |  March 6, 2023
On a morning when I need you most, the cardinal appears in the dead bush we meant to pull last spring. His round frame hefty, feathers tight to his bobbing body, as if he’s the beating heart of the gray yard.

24.2 (1)

book review (105)

issue 24.2 (1)

literary (1)

nonfiction (16)

river teeth revisited (1)

teaching (2)

writing (3)

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