“It’s my youth. It’s my idealism. It’s my mouth. It’s my lady parts, which undeniably make me the minority in the room. I should’ve known my place.”
The Egregious Faux Pas of a Film Studio Intern by Genevieve Anna Tyrrell
Category: Memoir
Our archive of past pieces that are part of a larger work of creative nonfiction. Note that as of 2021 we no longer categorize pieces as “memoir.” We use only “essay” and flash” now. We kept this in our menu for historical purposes.
This is Your Marriage on Drugs (An Excerpt) by Stephanie Rosenfeld and Luciano Colonna
Back in New York after rehab, I held firm to my commitment to stay away from dope. Shaky and suffering from the effects of post-withdrawal, I immediately set out to find a therapist…
Truth is a Foreign Object by Mary Scherf
Close to midnight, nine hours after my arrest, I heard the charges against me read. The court clerk spoke en Espanol. Enrique Gonzalez Rodriguez, a lawyer the embassy arranged to represent me, sat too close to me, translating.
Never Could I Leave You by Jacqueline Heinze
My board-like body has begun to curve. There is a swoop at my waist, a rounding in my thighs. My breasts are high and swollen and unfamiliar. No matter how fast I run, I am becoming a woman.
A Journey Back by Dorothy Hom
…trays of freshly baked goods—roast pork buns, steamed sponge cakes, buns filled with crème—beckon behind scratched-up glass. I’ve eaten these treats since I was a kid.
Penalty Phase by Charisse Coleman
In the first moments of Saturday, Aug. 12, 1995, in Shreveport, Louisiana, my older brother, Russell, age 42, was finishing up his shift as a minimum-wage, 54-hour-a-week stock clerk at Thrifty Liquor.
Enough by Carroll Sandel
My ex-brother-in-law, Andy, was my opposite. At a gangly six feet, five inches tall, Andy meandered when he walked and rambled about every imaginable subject
We Killed a Nun by Nicole Quinn
We killed Sister Cordelia sometime our first year at the Convent. She was old, old enough to die, too old to teach fourth grade mathematics.
Fog Man by Georgia Kreiger
The nurse stares down at me and tells me to slow down, asks me if I know the Fog Man’s name. I say no….
Brothel in a Strip Mall by Wes Civilz
I did some research before we flew to Vegas: an escort can easily run you a thousand dollars in this town.
