After years of writing fiction, Barbara Hoffbeck Scoblic segued into writing memoir. Many of the stories about her life on the farm included characters that had been based on her parents and siblings. Those had to be rewritten to conform to the standards of memoir. A laborious process of writing, editing, and rewriting ensued. For …
by Jill Kargman
We become balsamic reductions as we age—our very best parts distilled and clarified. Which is why they make needlepoint pillows that say aging is great like wine or cheese—and not like bananas, but that’s besides the point.
by Caroline Bock
Some days, [it] burns into a complete story, and my writing goal is achieved. Some days, the story stretches into much longer pieces. Word count becomes irrelevant. I am unbound by time, hungry and not realizing why.
by Vanessa Hua
“No one in this world understood the journey she’d taken, the threats and disappointments she’d overcome, and how thin the line between survival and failure.”
by Paul Seward
It is not simply that its construction and mechanism permit this single small pump to push our entire blood supply through our lungs, then through our body and back again. It is also that, beginning well before we are born, it does that exercise approximately once every second for our entire life.
by Peter Ferry
After the fire that burned her house to the ground … there had been some unspecified problems with the insurance and also some questions about smoke detectors: had they been operational? Had they failed? Why hadn’t they awakened the family? Or had they perhaps awakened the children? They didn’t remember.
by Donna Everhart
“For a time, I’d thought our family was happy, but my naïveté was only a safeguard from reality. As things fell apart between Mama and Daddy, I blamed myself, feeling responsible for how it started. But it was what Daddy did that sealed our fate. And when Uncle Ray showed up appearing to be full of good intentions about helping us out, he ended up causing more than his own share of trouble.”