Here are excerpts from the memoirs of The Memoir Network Editors and Memoir Professionals.
To return to another part of the Anthology:
Retiring to Memoir Writing: Justine Powell Kuntz
Eight years ago as a retirement project for church, I introduced memoir writing…
The Spirit of Villarosa: A Father’s Extraordinary Adventures / A Son’s Challenge
Libby Atwater is a memoir writer and long supporter of The Memoir Network. It is our pleasure to share her excellent work with you. By Horace Dade Ashton and Marc Ashton with Libby J. Atwater When Marc Ashton was kidnapped at gunpoint in Haiti, he fought to survive. Accosted by four armed thugs, Marc realized […]
She Loves Her, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah
Who were these Beatles, anyway? Everyone was screaming. Everyone, even Betsy, sitting next to me. Betsy was screaming her brains out. I stared at her in disbelief. But as I looked around Park Theater, the only movie theater in the Caldwells, the very green end-of-the-line little towns on the long boulevard that stretches from the […]
There Goes The Neighborhood, Part 2
We had already witnessed the demolition derby over the snowy weekend between Christmas and New Year’s. We figured the upcoming motorcycle party couldn’t top that. The demolition derby started with the arrival of large trucks bearing strange cargo.
There Goes the Neighborhood, Part 1
Gunnar was mowing his field. This was odd. He never mowed his field. He was making ever-tightening circles around the knobby acre, the sweet grass and raggedy weeds falling in neat windrows behind him.
Pudgy: A Childhood Memoir
When I was ten, I ran away. I packed everything that was important into my sturdy cardboard suitcase. I left a note on the kitchen table warning my parents not to look for me at the high-tension wires, those metal electrical towers that marked the back border of our property and which were in fact […]
Something About the Water
The following memoir excerpt was written by Chris Madsen of Olympia, Washington. I never got used to that first splash of chilly water. It came from a natural spring concealed behind a stockade fence, so clean and pure that we all thought Mr. Trecartin should bottle it. Instead, he let the spring fill the swimming pool […]
Lightning or When Young Love Strikes
It was the summer the city burned. The weather was dry and hot, but the real tinder was a mixture of frustration and anger, white and black, promises and demands. If I paused to consider these things, the pause was imperceptible. I stood at the edge of the pool contemplating…
A Grandmother Story: Nothing Broken
“Look at this,” my grandmother said. “Not a tooth broken.” We kids looked at the comb. We were not impressed. “I made this when I was 8 years old.”