Essays
Volume 3
And I felt that spark once more. You were funny and intelligent and sensitive… everything I was looking for in a creative outlet.
by Debbie Feit
One day, I heard the whisperings of a plot. It had something to do with Mr. Lull. Before I knew what was happening, one of the students grabbed Mr. Lull’s hat while his back was turned and quickly tossed the fedora out the window.
by Janie Brey
My wife believes in flying saucers. And cups. And dinner plates. Even the occasional saucepan sails through space toward my beleaguered semi-deaf head.
by Doug Jacquier
So here I was in January of 1986, living with Joanie, a college friend, at her grandmother’s rowhouse in Pittsburgh, paralyzed on the end of that sofa and trying to ignore the phone that grew more menacing the longer I did not pick up the receiver and dial.
by Sherri Alms
This is the role of the caregiver, a role I’ve been thinking about a lot lately as I dip my toes in. You can lose yourself in the current when you define yourself this way.
by Christina Dappollone McGovern
The loss of a parent has been a profound experience. To realize she lost him too breaks my heart.
by Katie Huey
Discipline, passion, and persistence each have a place, but I’m not convinced we should all find The Thing, or even if The Thing exists at all. Would it be so bad if that’s the case?
by Kiley Miller-Dickerson
Volume 2
She had the personality of an old lady, and she was ten pounds, round, and large.
by Gratia Serpento
I can hear their laughter through the steam of the vegetables and know that we use our family recipes because we want these people in the room with us once again. Not to help us with our cooking but to help us with our living.
by Pat Lipperini
When talented people make a film that’s less than the sum of its parts, the best moments can stir up your admiration for moviemaking without making you admire the movie.
by Sean Hughes
In 2016, aged 51, I took a break from a life that had somehow stopped being as fulfilling as it once was, and a whole new flourishing one opened up.
by Tamsin Grainger
The mist of deep blue-violet drifts around emerald-green ferns, each colour intensifying the other, so the whole wood seems to glow.
by Jacqui Gray
I remember selecting crisps and cheese, chocolate cake and tiny ring doughnuts with crackly lemon icing. I was in snack heaven.
by Jacqui Gray
I grew up with snacks entwined into my day, midmorning elevenses and afternoon tea. Snacks planned and snacks anticipated.
by Fern Marshall
No tour of England would be complete without a visit to one of the ruined churches that lie scattered across the green island like a child’s broken Legos.
by Angie Cosey
Beyond the thin pane of glass, the cold winter night lies in wait. But here, now, there are candles with golden flames and cacao that lies thick and rough on my tongue.
by Fern Marshall
It was a raw and biting minus 30 degrees Fahrenheit as our little bread truck trundled across the Siberian steppe.
by Angie Cosey
As I turned Jess’s feedback over in my mind, I began to think of myself like a knife—a tool suitable only for very specific tasks.
by Colleen Reese
Volume 1
Gilmore Girls is all about characters’ actions and inactions, and whether we can forgive and love our community in spite of both.
by Kathryn Pauline
I craved connection, story, themes and tropes, wanted to dig into what it means to be a woman coming of age today.
by Kiley Miller-Dickerson and Katie Huey
This quote from Shakespeare’s Hamlet pops in my head more often than any other.
by Kiley Miller
The goop came in a six-ounce mason jar with my name scrawled in black sharpie on the metal lid. A Post-It note with a clear message clung to the glass.
“Call for instructions.”
by Katie Huey
My life this year has undergone such a radical change that occasionally, I find myself unrecognizable.
by Jordyn Ruth
During quarantine, I took to sketching my friends' selfies sent into a WhatsApp group chat.
by Govi Snell
