Stories
Story of the Week
An awkward, unscientific lie is often as ineffectual as the truth.
Story of the Week
Any invented quotation, played with confidence, can deceive.
Nonfiction
The hut was cluttered with the skulls and bones of small animals.
Nonfiction
Lust for power and money undermined their morality and common sense.
Story of the Week
It was enough to make the most hardened veteran drop his guard.
Story of the Week
The stories of terror continued well after the tsunami had passed.
Nonfiction
Eating a raw oyster is like exchanging a soul kiss with the sea.
Nonfiction
The danger was my own carelessness, and now I was waist deep in it.
Nonfiction
An eye trained only for darkness makes for a lesser path, in art as in life.
Nonfiction
When we wake up, the five windows and the French door are full of light.
Story of the Week
“I don’t want to see these patch towns,” she said, raising her voice.
Story of the Week
Poetry can open. Is there a case for poetry in this plague year?
Nonfiction
Expulsion. He was out, his course set. One word can turn the key.
Nonfiction
Art is a way for the mind to master the body, even if it is not one’s own.
Nonfiction
“Why don’t you say anything, people? These thugs are murdering me!”
Story of the Week
I reviewed the rules for myself, among them: stay in the moment.
Classics
The Interests of a writer and the interests of his readers are never...
Nonfiction
The Warsaw Pact invaded in 1968
and soon banned Hrabal’s work.
Nonfiction
Their house is what I see when I look up from my notebook.
Nonfiction
The appetite for self-surrender is nothing new in our makeup.
Story of the Week
I was bold, even reckless, in what I wrote, and in how I wrote it.
Story of the Week
The new generation doesn’t play war, which is a shame; they text.
Nonfiction
Peter Taylor’s stories are jigsaw puzzles of nuance and suggestion.
Story of the Week
The lock surrendered, after a short struggle, to the poker.
Classics
The writer must let his mind celebrate its nuptials in darkness.
Narrative High School Writing Contest
Grief is a rude houseguest. She stays up late. She leaves messes.
Narrative Taste
I read cookbooks the way I do poetry, with a willingness to be transported.
