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Abbey, beside
SUBMISSIONS
Submissions. Brevity publishes well-known and emerging writers working in the extremely brief (750 words or fewer) essay form. We have featured work from Pulitzer prize finalists, NEA fellows, Pushcart winners, Best American authors, and writers from India, Egypt, Ireland, Spain, Malaysia, Qatar, and Japan. WHERE TO PUBLISH FLASH NONFICTION Where to Publish Flash Nonfiction. This list, though extensive, is in no way exhaustive. Many literary journals will consider short prose whether they advertise that fact or not. But these links lead to journals that have expressed a specific interest: *82 Review. 100 Word Story. 5×5. A3 Review. LINE | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION Line. It is coming up on five p.m. when you push your way out of the crowded bus and onto the street that will take you to your child’s kindergarten. You must walk the final few hundred yards, a trip of less than ten minutes for a woman of good health in her mid-thirties. As you wait to cross the street, you see a medium-sized truckISSUE 67 / MAY 2021
May 14, 2021. by Irina Dumitrescu• No Comments. It is coming up on five p.m. when you push your way out of the crowded bus and onto the street that will take you to your child’s kindergarten. You must walk the final few hundred yards, a trip of less TRUE CRIME | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION True Crime. I tilted my head towards the hushed conversations, the tulle of my dress sticking to my skin. I was on a bus headed to my college’s spring formal when I overheard rumors about a murdered student. It’s Clare, voices whispered. Oh my god, it’s Clare. I didn’t know anyone named Clare, but all around me, news of her deathwas
BREVITY 40 / CEILING OR SKY? Our 40th Issue, Ceiling or Sky?Female Nonfictions After the VIDA Count, is focused on the important contribution of female writers to the creative nonfiction movement, with strong new work from Judith Ortiz Cofer, Jenny Boully, Sue William Silverman, Laurie Lynn Drummond, Brenda Miller, Thao Thai, Lynette D’Amico, Diana Cage, Kristen Radtke, Sonya Lea, Debra S. Levy, Jennifer De Leon, and MY FATHER READS A POEM TO ME My Father Reads a Poem to Me. and on the recording, in the space between where he stops reading in Taiwanese and I thank him in English, you may hear a respectful pause. You may be reminded of the way audience members leave a little space between a play, or an orchestra’s, closing phrase and applause; you may think you hear megirding myself
A REVIEW OF BARBARA HURD’S LISTENING TO THE SAVAGE: RIVER About half-way through Barbara Hurd’s latest essay collection, Listening to the Savage: River Notes and Half-Heard Melodies, I find myself splayed across a granite boulder in the middle of the small river that runs through my backyard in rural Vermont.Obviously, I am listening for crayfish. An avid river watcher, I confess that until reading this beautiful, brilliant book, I had not THE MEMORY OF MY DISAPPEARANCE The Memory of My Disappearance. The last time I saw Mother was that day in the yard when she snipped off the heads of perfectly pretty flowers—snipped them right off with the same orange shears she used to meticulously make my dresses, mostly smocked and embroidered with rose buds or tulips or sheep. Do not come after me with your tiny BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTIONCURRENTPASTCRAFT ESSAYSABOUTSUBMITTEACHING RESOURCES Our apartment in German Colony was only a ten-minute walk to the gardens that overlooked the old city. To the left stood the high limestone walls of Jerusalem, to the right Mt. Zion itself with its trees and tiers of white buildings, the blue cone roof of DormitionAbbey, beside
SUBMISSIONS
Submissions. Brevity publishes well-known and emerging writers working in the extremely brief (750 words or fewer) essay form. We have featured work from Pulitzer prize finalists, NEA fellows, Pushcart winners, Best American authors, and writers from India, Egypt, Ireland, Spain, Malaysia, Qatar, and Japan. WHERE TO PUBLISH FLASH NONFICTION Where to Publish Flash Nonfiction. This list, though extensive, is in no way exhaustive. Many literary journals will consider short prose whether they advertise that fact or not. But these links lead to journals that have expressed a specific interest: *82 Review. 100 Word Story. 5×5. A3 Review. LINE | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION Line. It is coming up on five p.m. when you push your way out of the crowded bus and onto the street that will take you to your child’s kindergarten. You must walk the final few hundred yards, a trip of less than ten minutes for a woman of good health in her mid-thirties. As you wait to cross the street, you see a medium-sized truckISSUE 67 / MAY 2021
May 14, 2021. by Irina Dumitrescu• No Comments. It is coming up on five p.m. when you push your way out of the crowded bus and onto the street that will take you to your child’s kindergarten. You must walk the final few hundred yards, a trip of less TRUE CRIME | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION True Crime. I tilted my head towards the hushed conversations, the tulle of my dress sticking to my skin. I was on a bus headed to my college’s spring formal when I overheard rumors about a murdered student. It’s Clare, voices whispered. Oh my god, it’s Clare. I didn’t know anyone named Clare, but all around me, news of her deathwas
BREVITY 40 / CEILING OR SKY? Our 40th Issue, Ceiling or Sky?Female Nonfictions After the VIDA Count, is focused on the important contribution of female writers to the creative nonfiction movement, with strong new work from Judith Ortiz Cofer, Jenny Boully, Sue William Silverman, Laurie Lynn Drummond, Brenda Miller, Thao Thai, Lynette D’Amico, Diana Cage, Kristen Radtke, Sonya Lea, Debra S. Levy, Jennifer De Leon, and MY FATHER READS A POEM TO ME My Father Reads a Poem to Me. and on the recording, in the space between where he stops reading in Taiwanese and I thank him in English, you may hear a respectful pause. You may be reminded of the way audience members leave a little space between a play, or an orchestra’s, closing phrase and applause; you may think you hear megirding myself
A REVIEW OF BARBARA HURD’S LISTENING TO THE SAVAGE: RIVER About half-way through Barbara Hurd’s latest essay collection, Listening to the Savage: River Notes and Half-Heard Melodies, I find myself splayed across a granite boulder in the middle of the small river that runs through my backyard in rural Vermont.Obviously, I am listening for crayfish. An avid river watcher, I confess that until reading this beautiful, brilliant book, I had not THE MEMORY OF MY DISAPPEARANCE The Memory of My Disappearance. The last time I saw Mother was that day in the yard when she snipped off the heads of perfectly pretty flowers—snipped them right off with the same orange shears she used to meticulously make my dresses, mostly smocked and embroidered with rose buds or tulips or sheep. Do not come after me with your tinyCURRENT ISSUE
When the terrible virus was unleashed and our lives screeched to a halt, I planted a garden. My first. I tended it zealously, with the darting eyes of a suicide bomber. This was March, April, May, the world hijacked by hysteria. I could have watered my gardenSUBMISSIONS
Submissions. Brevity publishes well-known and emerging writers working in the extremely brief (750 words or fewer) essay form. We have featured work from Pulitzer prize finalists, NEA fellows, Pushcart winners, Best American authors, and writers from India, Egypt, Ireland, Spain, Malaysia, Qatar, and Japan. ISSUES | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION Outside there is a pandemic and I am in lockdown in Montevideo, Uruguay, far from my daughter and son also locked down, but in Kanazawa, in Ishikawa Prefecture, Japan, and I am inside drawing, drawing, drawing, filling sheets of paper, pages drifting to the floor, as if I were the boy in the Japanese fable LINE | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION Line. It is coming up on five p.m. when you push your way out of the crowded bus and onto the street that will take you to your child’s kindergarten. You must walk the final few hundred yards, a trip of less than ten minutes for a woman of good health in her mid-thirties. As you wait to cross the street, you see a medium-sized truckTWENTY MINUTES
Twenty minutes it felt like the virus could take me. Don’t call an ambulance, I don’t want the kids to see. You won’t be allowed to come and I don’t want to be alone. Twenty minutes for me to know what was at stake, to use my eyes in a way I could not use them before, like a thirst. So, before I forget, before I tell myself orothers it
NIGHT PATROL
Night Patrol. by L.I. Henley • May 14, 2021 No Comments. “Don’t sleep,” he says. My father’s right arm, a steel rail, reaches across my chest to crank the passenger window down. Darkness floods the cab of the old pickup truck, cold needles of December air, smells of creosote and snow. We are driving the dark roads of the MojaveXXXX TEACHING
A Resource for Teachers and Student Writers. In keeping with Brevity‘s mission to publish not only the finest work of contemporary nonfiction, but also thoughtful investigations of the writer’s craft, we have created a series of tags that allow readers, writers, teachers, and students better access to our archives.. Apprentice writers, students, and teachers can use this index toexamine
BUT WHYYY? | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION Me, forty-one, walking with Theo, four, and we are in the totally age-appropriate rut of why, and but whyyy, and I am not at all annoyed, just enjoying the moment because he is, barring a medical miracle, my last progeny, and he will never be four again and one really can’t bank on grandkids because I could choke on a bagel tomorrow and, anyways, their—the grandkids—conception isn’tNOT NOTHING
Not Nothing. My mother tells a story from when she was pregnant with me. The early eighties. My father came home in the small hours of the morning from the bar—the one he both owned and drank at two blocks from our house—after my mother was long in bed. Common when he drank, my father couldn’t go to bed right away, too keyed up fromthe
WHITE MEMORY & THE PSYCHIC SHERPA White Memory & The Psychic Sherpa. Oftentimes, in an alcoholic or abusive family, there is one member who first acknowledges the problem, who remembers the painful and harmful acts of the past and the damage caused by those actions, who chooses to break the zones of silence the family enforces about their past, who points to thecraziness and
BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTIONCURRENTPASTCRAFT ESSAYSABOUTSUBMITTEACHING RESOURCES Our apartment in German Colony was only a ten-minute walk to the gardens that overlooked the old city. To the left stood the high limestone walls of Jerusalem, to the right Mt. Zion itself with its trees and tiers of white buildings, the blue cone roof of DormitionAbbey, beside
SUBMISSIONS
Submissions. Brevity publishes well-known and emerging writers working in the extremely brief (750 words or fewer) essay form. We have featured work from Pulitzer prize finalists, NEA fellows, Pushcart winners, Best American authors, and writers from India, Egypt, Ireland, Spain, Malaysia, Qatar, and Japan. LINE | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION Line. It is coming up on five p.m. when you push your way out of the crowded bus and onto the street that will take you to your child’s kindergarten. You must walk the final few hundred yards, a trip of less than ten minutes for a woman of good health in her mid-thirties. As you wait to cross the street, you see a medium-sized truck WHERE TO PUBLISH FLASH NONFICTION Where to Publish Flash Nonfiction. This list, though extensive, is in no way exhaustive. Many literary journals will consider short prose whether they advertise that fact or not. But these links lead to journals that have expressed a specific interest: *82 Review. 100 Word Story. 5×5. A3 Review.ISSUE 67 / MAY 2021
May 14, 2021. by Irina Dumitrescu• No Comments. It is coming up on five p.m. when you push your way out of the crowded bus and onto the street that will take you to your child’s kindergarten. You must walk the final few hundred yards, a trip of lessTWENTY MINUTES
Twenty minutes it felt like the virus could take me. Don’t call an ambulance, I don’t want the kids to see. You won’t be allowed to come and I don’t want to be alone. Twenty minutes for me to know what was at stake, to use my eyes in a way I could not use them before, like a thirst. So, before I forget, before I tell myself orothers it
TRUE CRIME | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION True Crime. I tilted my head towards the hushed conversations, the tulle of my dress sticking to my skin. I was on a bus headed to my college’s spring formal when I overheard rumors about a murdered student. It’s Clare, voices whispered. Oh my god, it’s Clare. I didn’t know anyone named Clare, but all around me, news of her deathwas
BUT WHYYY? | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION Me, forty-one, walking with Theo, four, and we are in the totally age-appropriate rut of why, and but whyyy, and I am not at all annoyed, just enjoying the moment because he is, barring a medical miracle, my last progeny, and he will never be four again and one really can’t bank on grandkids because I could choke on a bagel tomorrow and, anyways, their—the grandkids—conception isn’t MY FATHER READS A POEM TO ME My Father Reads a Poem to Me. and on the recording, in the space between where he stops reading in Taiwanese and I thank him in English, you may hear a respectful pause. You may be reminded of the way audience members leave a little space between a play, or an orchestra’s, closing phrase and applause; you may think you hear megirding myself
THE MEMORY OF MY DISAPPEARANCE The Memory of My Disappearance. The last time I saw Mother was that day in the yard when she snipped off the heads of perfectly pretty flowers—snipped them right off with the same orange shears she used to meticulously make my dresses, mostly smocked and embroidered with rose buds or tulips or sheep. Do not come after me with your tiny BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTIONCURRENTPASTCRAFT ESSAYSABOUTSUBMITTEACHING RESOURCES Our apartment in German Colony was only a ten-minute walk to the gardens that overlooked the old city. To the left stood the high limestone walls of Jerusalem, to the right Mt. Zion itself with its trees and tiers of white buildings, the blue cone roof of DormitionAbbey, beside
SUBMISSIONS
Submissions. Brevity publishes well-known and emerging writers working in the extremely brief (750 words or fewer) essay form. We have featured work from Pulitzer prize finalists, NEA fellows, Pushcart winners, Best American authors, and writers from India, Egypt, Ireland, Spain, Malaysia, Qatar, and Japan. LINE | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION Line. It is coming up on five p.m. when you push your way out of the crowded bus and onto the street that will take you to your child’s kindergarten. You must walk the final few hundred yards, a trip of less than ten minutes for a woman of good health in her mid-thirties. As you wait to cross the street, you see a medium-sized truck WHERE TO PUBLISH FLASH NONFICTION Where to Publish Flash Nonfiction. This list, though extensive, is in no way exhaustive. Many literary journals will consider short prose whether they advertise that fact or not. But these links lead to journals that have expressed a specific interest: *82 Review. 100 Word Story. 5×5. A3 Review.ISSUE 67 / MAY 2021
May 14, 2021. by Irina Dumitrescu• No Comments. It is coming up on five p.m. when you push your way out of the crowded bus and onto the street that will take you to your child’s kindergarten. You must walk the final few hundred yards, a trip of lessTWENTY MINUTES
Twenty minutes it felt like the virus could take me. Don’t call an ambulance, I don’t want the kids to see. You won’t be allowed to come and I don’t want to be alone. Twenty minutes for me to know what was at stake, to use my eyes in a way I could not use them before, like a thirst. So, before I forget, before I tell myself orothers it
TRUE CRIME | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION True Crime. I tilted my head towards the hushed conversations, the tulle of my dress sticking to my skin. I was on a bus headed to my college’s spring formal when I overheard rumors about a murdered student. It’s Clare, voices whispered. Oh my god, it’s Clare. I didn’t know anyone named Clare, but all around me, news of her deathwas
BUT WHYYY? | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION Me, forty-one, walking with Theo, four, and we are in the totally age-appropriate rut of why, and but whyyy, and I am not at all annoyed, just enjoying the moment because he is, barring a medical miracle, my last progeny, and he will never be four again and one really can’t bank on grandkids because I could choke on a bagel tomorrow and, anyways, their—the grandkids—conception isn’t MY FATHER READS A POEM TO ME My Father Reads a Poem to Me. and on the recording, in the space between where he stops reading in Taiwanese and I thank him in English, you may hear a respectful pause. You may be reminded of the way audience members leave a little space between a play, or an orchestra’s, closing phrase and applause; you may think you hear megirding myself
THE MEMORY OF MY DISAPPEARANCE The Memory of My Disappearance. The last time I saw Mother was that day in the yard when she snipped off the heads of perfectly pretty flowers—snipped them right off with the same orange shears she used to meticulously make my dresses, mostly smocked and embroidered with rose buds or tulips or sheep. Do not come after me with your tiny LINE | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION Line. It is coming up on five p.m. when you push your way out of the crowded bus and onto the street that will take you to your child’s kindergarten. You must walk the final few hundred yards, a trip of less than ten minutes for a woman of good health in her mid-thirties. As you wait to cross the street, you see a medium-sized truck TRUE CRIME | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION True Crime. I tilted my head towards the hushed conversations, the tulle of my dress sticking to my skin. I was on a bus headed to my college’s spring formal when I overheard rumors about a murdered student. It’s Clare, voices whispered. Oh my god, it’s Clare. I didn’t know anyone named Clare, but all around me, news of her deathwas
RESOURCES FOR TEACHING BREVITY Alongside our primary mission to publish outstanding contemporary flash nonfiction, Brevity also works to provide diverse resources for writers and teachers of the flash form. On the pages that follow, we’ve assembled numerous perspectives on writing brief prose as well as tips for teaching individual essays found in The Best of Brevity, prompts for writing your own flash work or to inspire BUT WHYYY? | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION Me, forty-one, walking with Theo, four, and we are in the totally age-appropriate rut of why, and but whyyy, and I am not at all annoyed, just enjoying the moment because he is, barring a medical miracle, my last progeny, and he will never be four again and one really can’t bank on grandkids because I could choke on a bagel tomorrow and, anyways, their—the grandkids—conception isn’t SABBATH | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION But a discovery we two made one Saturday morning in Jerusalem. “Shabbat Shalom,” these people out walking in the gardens called to each other, and to us. Peace to you this Sabbath. “Shabbat Shalom,” we said in return, and began to understand. ___. Bret Lott is the author of fourteen books, including three collections ofessays.
REMEMBER? | BREVITY: A JOURNAL OF CONCISE LITERARY NONFICTION Friday night, I say, hoping that if I say it fast enough, say it one more time, it won’t pour through his mind like water through a sieve. The habit of hope is hard to break. Friday night, I say, but sometimes a flash-bang grenade goes off in my head, and I shout like a TEACHING WITH THE BEST OF BREVITY Perfect for use at any level—beginner to advanced—Brevity‘s 20th anniversary anthology The Best of Brevity features brief memoir, narrative, lyric essays, literary journalism,, hermit crab essays, hybrid essays, and more, from writers such as Brian Doyle, Roxane Gay, Daisy Hernández, AnderNIGHT PATROL
Night Patrol. by L.I. Henley • May 14, 2021 No Comments. “Don’t sleep,” he says. My father’s right arm, a steel rail, reaches across my chest to crank the passenger window down. Darkness floods the cab of the old pickup truck, cold needles of December air, smells of creosote and snow. We are driving the dark roads of the MojaveHOW TO DO NOTHING
How to Do Nothing. Choose a nice day. Or not, rain will do as well. Doing nothing is not meditation. You are not emptying your mind, you are letting it wander around from one thing to another while you sit still. Some people think of monkey mind as something to be conquered, or corralled, or even obliterated, but there is nothing wrong withNOT NOTHING
Not Nothing. My mother tells a story from when she was pregnant with me. The early eighties. My father came home in the small hours of the morning from the bar—the one he both owned and drank at two blocks from our house—after my mother was long in bed. Common when he drank, my father couldn’t go to bed right away, too keyed up fromthe
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Current Issue / Issue61 / May 2019 /
Nonfiction
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DROWN by Sarah Beth Childers A month after your suicide, when I’ve quit fearing a return to routine would mean I never loved you, I restart my daily swims at the university aquatic facility. The facility has two pools. Fitness, eleven-feet deep, where recent high school swim stars flash down cool-water lanes, chlorine-bleached hair tucked... Current Issue / Issue61 / May 2019 /
Nonfiction
WHENEVER MEN THINK I’M SMILING by Megan PIllow Davis I’m on the elevator alone for one floor before the man gets on. He stands in one corner, staring at his phone. I drink my coffee. At the next floor, two more men get on. They flank me, laughing and talking about some game somewhere. I pull my arms in...Current Issue /
Nonfiction
TWO SEPTEMBERS
by Gordon Grice
1. Blink We forgot to drop off the gas bill until 4 am, but that was just an excuse. Really, we drove out because we wanted to be in the storm. The usual thunderstorm things happened: rain blowing in on us, which was a refreshment at first, then a call... Current Issue / Issue61 / May 2019 /
Nonfiction
THREE ANGELS
by David L. Ulin
I. The first angel arrives dressed in yellow. I can’t stop looking at her face. She rises from the sidewalk at the crest of Sacramento and Buchanan grinning, mouth cracked open, upturned to the sky. She’s around my age, it looks like, which means she is more old thanyoung....
Current Issue / Issue61 / May 2019 /
Nonfiction
THE CLUB FROM NOWHEREby Patricia Foster
The oil sizzles, a spray of bubbles rippling across the pan, then the flour-coated chicken dropped in, first a thigh, then a leg, a breast, a wing, another leg, the hiss and sputter of crisping, edges ruffling, browning, the juices drawn in as a hand deftly turns and shifts the... Current Issue / Issue61 / May 2019 /
Nonfiction
BUTCHERING
by Jeff Newberry
I. “Butcher” has nearly disappeared from public use. Customers prefer “meat cutter” because they associate “butcher” with “slaughter” and therefore “cruelty.” My father was not a certified butcher. He learned the trade working with his brother in grocery stores when they were young. My father’s job consisted ofcutting steaks...
Current Issue / Issue61 / May 2019 /
Nonfiction
TEN THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT LISTICLESby Deborah Thompson
1. It’s easy to disparage the listicle, that pseudo-article in the form of a list, that caterer to our tweeting, text-messaging, sound-biting, multitasking culture. Listicles can’t develop an argument, complicate it, revise and refine it. It’s the mode not of cause-and-effect but of oh-and-another-thing. It flouts consequences and elects slogans... Current Issue / Issue61 / May 2019 /
Nonfiction
POSTCARDS FROM MY CURRENT SELF: FAITH EVANGELICAL CHURCH, SUMMER 1975,BILLINGS, MONTANA
by Sheree Winslow
You walked to the front of the sanctuary to pick up your award—a Snoopy bank. The pastor thanked you for recruiting the most friends to attend Vacation Bible School, a week of stories and songs about Jesus interspersed with games of Red Rover and Duck, Duck, Goose. Which part thrilled... Current Issue / Issue61 / May 2019 /
Nonfiction
A LEGACY OF FALLING
by Jenny Apostol
In the last few months of her life, when she could no longer get out of bed without falling, my mother told her nighttime caretaker that she had contemplated throwing herself from the subway platform into an oncoming train. The confession didn’t surprise me, just the scenario. I recalled that... Current Issue / Issue61 / May 2019 /
Nonfiction
NUMISMATIC
by Caroline Crew
I was a child once, and had no concern for cash but did, and still do, have a compulsion towards coins. The curve, the jangle, the shine. A coin is kind of magic, how any circle charms the human eye: halo, hollow, sun. We scraped circles on rocks before we... Current Issue / Issue61 / May 2019 /
Nonfiction
THREEPLAY: A REAL-LIFE MICRO DRAMA by Suzanne LaFetra Collier Characters Me: Divorced Him: Interested Her: Uninterested Act 1 Over tequila shots in my triangle shaped house Her: Zzzzzzz Him: She made a list. People I can sleep with. Me: That’s insane. Me: Am I on it? Waving a lit wand of incense for her altar Her: How’re the kids?... Current Issue / Issue61 / May 2019 /
Nonfiction
THERE WILL BE FALLINGby Liza Porter
In my dreams, I catch her before she falls, the first fall in her apartment down the road from our house, when I’m a thousand miles away at a residency and have to rush home on the desert freeway, smoking a hundred Kools on the way. The second fall on... Current Issue / Issue61 / May 2019 /
Nonfiction
MY ONE, MY ONLY
by Michaella A. Thornton Invariably, at the grocery store where I buy avocados, clementines, and Lucinda’s beloved pork breakfast sausage, some stranger will ask, “Is she your only child?” I wonder what gives us away. Is it the way I narrate our grocery trip, the questions I pose about the ripeness of bananas,... Current Issue / Issue61 / May 2019 /
Nonfiction
DANCE ME TO THE END
by Jennifer Anderson Four o’clock on a Friday afternoon. My grandmother slumps against the arm of the sofa, eyes half-closed, sinking down, down, down. The tips of her fingers graze the floor, and she moves them about, grasping at some hidden thing she keeps secret. Today is no different. She has just turned... Current Issue / Issue61 / May 2019 /
Nonfiction
WHAT I DO ON MY TERRACE IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESSby Och Gonzalez
The woman in the apartment on my left has her head drooped low and an arm weighed down by a yellow watering can spouting all over the clay pots that line the metal bars of her terrace. If she had fuchsia pink hair, she would look exactly like the hibiscus...Latest Issue
OUR MAY 2019 ISSUE
May 9, 2019
Issue 61 features a range of startling, melancholy, angry, and funny flash from Och Gonzalez, Gordon Grice, David L. Ulin, Sheree Winslow, Patricia Foster, Jeff Newberry, Liza Porter, Sarah Beth Childers, Megan Pillow Davis, Jenny Apostol, Deborah Thompson, Caroline Crew, Suzanne LaFetra Collier, Jennifer Anderson, and Michaella A. Thornton. With photos by Elizabeth Fackler.CRAFT ESSAYS
May 9, 2019
In our Craft Section, Joy Castro explores the slow-dancing, inseparable relationship between fiction and nonfiction, while Randon Billings Noble defends “themelessness” in assembling an essaycollection.
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May 9, 2019
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THE BREVITY ARCHIVESMay 9, 2019
Readers, writers, teachers, and students can find essays and craft-focused discussions under a number of different headings: traditional subjects, such as aging or nature; varying modes and subgenres, such as the profile or meditation; as well as various techniques and literary conventions, such as dialogue and diction.GET CONNECTED
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