Live Online Class: Thursday, October 27, 2022 6:30-9pm Eastern Time Writing About Parents with Deborah J. Cohan In writing creative nonfiction, what could have ...
Now Open for Submissions! The Memoir Prize awards Memoir and Creative Nonfiction book length works of exceptional merit in the categories of traditional, self-p...
*Featured Artwork: “How Grey Was My Garden” by Elizabeth Cassidy I Easter Dresses Every Easter Mother made us matching tulle dresses with layers of ...
How do we treat agricultural workers severed from their families? We crush them together in trucks. Pack them in houses containing twenty men. Fail to supply pr...
Even though four yards or more of open air separated our being, in those moments, we were one, brothers. I could feel my Sioux and Cherokee heritage run through...
Memoir is about absence, emptiness; it’s about crossing divides–of time, space, language, and that ultimate divide between the living and the dead. It’s standin...
But senior year, Katie’s talent moved from talent to sorcery. She drew what was real and unimaginable. Where did she get these ideas? How did she dare to put th...
A memoir in the finest sense of the genre! An easy read, packed with astonishing events that flow into one another like water, The View From Breast Pocket Mount...
In this groundbreaking 2-hour online workshop, Deborah J. Cohan draws on her background as a writer, teacher, sociologist, counselor, and group facilitator both...
Monday, 9/12/2022 Time: 1:00-3:30pm ET Fee:Â $90 Limit 8 Students Text, Power, Telling Workshop This workshop is open to folx who have experienced sexual trauma...
*Featured artwork by Michel Carluccio Our Bodies, Our Words: A Day of Writing and Storytelling A Full Day Online Class New Date: Friday, September 9, 2022 Wedne...
September 15Â – October 20th, 2022 Coming Again Spring 2023 Thursdays, 7:30 to 9 PM Eastern Throughout the ages, humans have used stories to encode and de...
This life-altering 6-week workshop is for writers of all levels and is open to all women, men, and non-binary individuals.
Sister knew my father longer—and better. Living closer to my father than I, she had spent more time with him.  Being more blessed than I, Sister had more than e...
Afterward, at a nearby coffee shop, Pops and I munch on grilled cheese sandwiches and drink café con leche. We talk about the different jobs the workers do, how...
My father called me names, made me cry, and one time even threw my plate of Easter frittata at the wall because he said I was being fresh. But he was the best n...
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