Nonfiction
Nonfiction
She could not have known how uncannily she resembled me.
Narrative Taste
Chocolate promises a happy ending. I believed in that promise.
Narrative Taste
This would not be a wooing meal. I was cooking my man into submission.
Nonfiction
Write simple sentences. Report. Don’t moralize. No pretensions.
Nonfiction
Marriage changes passion. Suddenly you’re in bed with
a relative.
a relative.
Nonfiction
Any society that fails to protect its children is in terminal decline.
Nonfiction
We want to revisit what life was like before technology infected us.
Nonfiction
“He’s a mad dog on a chain. You don’t stick your fingers in his mouth.”
Nonfiction
His thoughts are never far from the erotic as he roams around Dublin.
Nonfiction
These adventures taught me that writers are flawed human beings.
Nonfiction
Our visions of the world fade like the morning star, lost in the light of day.
Classics, Story of the Week
Amusement is one thing; enjoyment of art is another.
Nonfiction
Six other guests smoked Marlboro Lights, and ashtrays filled up.
Story of the Week
I look on Britain as a new world, which it is almost madness to invade.
Classics
I lost myself in their minds: for the moment I actually became them.
Spring Contest Winners
I wait for the one thing that will change my life to arrive in the mail.
Nonfiction
If you want to know what to write, ask yourself what obsesses you.
Spring Contest Winners
We chose to stay in the brutality of that night, even as the girls walked away.
Fall Contest Winners
I hear myself giving advice in my father’s voice: Take the emotion out.
Nonfiction
What humanity needed was that gravity-defying miracle, the bird.
Story of the Week
Taller than most women, Sojourner Truth seemed to rise a little higher.
Story of the Week
Young people have a gift for reviving freshness of language.
Nonfiction
If you let me live, I will buy you beer whenever I see you in town.
Narrative Outloud
He would write a poem on one page, but it might take him months.
Story of the Week
We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.
Nonfiction
Art, like writing, is an invitation to be surprised, to be open to revelation.
Essays
Ike’s voice left behind on the shore as Tina plunges in again.
Story of the Week
The leaves of the olives were made entirely of night, as if cut out of skies.
