7 Questions for Your Memoir
First, a definition: The memoir is a particular genre which is enjoying tremendous popularity these days, with readers as well as writers, as so many of us are looking back and asking what it all meant
What’s Your Story?
So you’ve decided to write your memoir. Congratulations! Remember, a memoir is not the same thing as an autobiography. You are not going to start on the day you were born and keep going from there
What Can a Writer Learn from a Painter?
An artist does not start in the upper left-hand corner and then work from left to right, finishing each square inch as she goes. Just as you can work on any part of your story
Why I Am the Way I Am… Seven Stories of People You Already Hate
You see, the psychology of persuasive behavior has been around for centuries, we’ve just never had a technology for it. So we really can’t cast blame on the big tech industries for the divide in our country.
The Thursday People
I nodded yes. In the next few months, my life went from black and white to color. How Mrs. Going taught me is a mystery. What I remember are amazement and delight. Everything talked to me! Some signs told you where to go!
Other Plans
Teachers shoo their students into classrooms. The hallway empties, except for a few usual suspects. A gorgeous young man and his two infatuated followers linger, deep in conversation.
Female Pilot Story
She opened the rear door, threw down the ladder and climbed out of the plane into a ridiculously cold minus fourteen degrees. She looked at her surroundings. A beautiful DC-3 sat in one corner of the ramp.
My Sister Was an Only Child
Aah. Rachel had another meltdown. I picked up the lime-colored pieces and clicked them together. “See—when you put these pieces together they have the same shape as California. And this black dot stands for Los Angeles.
Other Plans
After I messed things up for myself by abandoning a perfectly good husband and thereby walking away from a primo apartment on the Upper West Side, and oh-by-the-way losing…
A Memoir
They say I might see a truck with hunting dogs and a dead pig or two tied to the vehicle. But there’s no sign of life – no cars, no people, no buildings. Just the big, black boar with white tusks off in the distance. I say a little prayer.