Content: memoir

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I had originally posted this in the Flash Fiction Contest. But, as one of my favorite reviewers pointed out, it really isn't a story. Thus, I have reposted it as poem. If, indeed, it is a poem, I have no idea what type of poem it is. I just write what comes to mind or what i feel. I'll let you fine and vastly more knowledgeable folks sort out the details! Any and all comments are welcome. And thanks! Alan

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Life- 3 1/2, is a true story surrounding the embezzlement of eleven million dollars. It tells the gritty tale of a young executive and how he inadvertently became involved with Boston gangsters, resulting in his efforts to stay alive and protect his family. It covers a ten year span of embezzlement, arson, FBI investigations, the judicial system and finally prison.

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This is the first full chapter of my memoir about a year spent tracking bears in the could forest of Ecuador. There will be a short introductory bit that will introduce Marco, the Ecuadorian guy in this piece. I want to use this as a writing sample for MFA programs, so please comment liberally! Large issues and nitpicks welcome. Im new here and didn't do the cut and paste right so my formatting got lost. I apologize for how hard it is to read. I'll see if I can fix it.

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"We serial killers are your sons, we are your husbands, we are everywhere. And there will be more of your children dead tomorrow. " -Ted Bundy I am not as different from you as you think. I had a very normal life on the outside. From the outside I had everything: A nice house, good job, a pretty wife and a great family. I was the American dream. On the outside looking out was a monster. Waiting in the shadows of that postcard life was a killer. The true me. I was not so different from you. A productive member of society. I was a member of united Baptist church, parent teacher association in my children’s school, volunteered at soup kitchens and I also was an assistant Boy Scout leader. I had dreams and aspirations, just like you. So don’t think we are that different. It all started with a book, actually it was an idea. I never could sit down in front of computer and just type. Always wanted to be writer but never could tell a story. My interest was crime fiction. The kind of story my life turned into. The ones that have some cocky police offer tracking down a clever serial killer. It case you don’t know my story, I wasn’t the cop. Never could get myself inspired enough to find the right words to put on the blank page. Now the story is no longer fiction so the words would come easy. This is my story. I’m not writing this story because I feel I owe it to the families to ask for their forgiveness. I’m not writing so I can sell a bunch of book and make a million dollars. I’m writing because people need to know the stories of the victims. I will not ask you to forgive me but I will ask you to understand I had no control over it. This is confession. I don’t want peace with god or even myself. I don’t deserve it and I don’t need it. I can sleep at night knowing what I did. Even with my impending release from this world, I do not fear what is ahead of me. I know my time here is numbered, actually its only two weeks away. I won’t make any excuses for why I did what I had to do. I was told that “there is only what you got to do. No right or wrong, just what has to be done.” I don’t feel remorse. I don’t have some guilt weighting me down. There is no little cricket telling me that I have to get this off my chest. My conscience is clean. They understood that this was beyond my control and theirs. This is my burden.

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Satirical philosophical take on life from the perspective of a 44-year-old, cigar smoking, bourbon drinking, environmentally-conscious, corvette-driving, meat-eating, animal-loving, parent of one, from the wilds of Northwestern New Jersey. Looking for any feedback and general reaction to my first full length literary work. It is not necessary to read from the beginning due to the style, but it does help with some of the references and to get a feel for my overall mental state. Feel free to jump in wherever you like.

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I've decided to try out a series of 'vignettes', which are memoir, though might not be in the same 'order' of chapters as I'm now posting. I'll have to do some rearranging at some point. But for now, rather than upload them all as short stories, I'll start with this for chapter one--and dread the day when I have to figure out how to rearrange. (NOTE: While the title is a shout out to my favorite author, it's a tentative one at present-though it does sum up my life quite nicely on some days!) I'm the mom of two autistic boys, and these are our stories.

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In Memory ten years ago we said good-bye in a dim room you were near the end the Irish hospice nurse whispered in my ear she called a priest for last rites you could not tell us what you wanted I leaned over the bed to look into your eyes you were able to lift one finger to touch my cheek I am sure I saw you smile before your finger fell ten years ago today

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The story of my life, which begins in privilege, an alcoholic father, depression, divorces and emotional aridity, and ends in emotional rebirth, freedom and love. I'm especially interested to hear whether readers find they're drawn into the material. Does the introduction create suspense and curiosity?

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I began this as a project to just put my feelings down. But, I found it very soothing and so far I have enjoyed writing this memoir. It's about my years of high school. In freshman year my grandpa died, in sophomore year my uncle died, in junior year my dad died, and in the summer before my senior year my 22 year old brother committed suicide. Yet, through all of this, I was still able to live a normal life with great friends and a lot of fun. I hope to show people that life is for the adventures, and as much as we want to hold onto the past, we need to let ourselves shine, and not let pain define us. This is nowhere near done, I actually skipped to my brothers suicide, and still have alot of work to do. But I just wanted to get some other people reading it. Its about 14000 words now. Thanks.

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This is rhiannon on Rhiannon expanded; as suggested. It has an ending, is either more truthful or it is not. Remember when I tell you anything about this story that "I am Lying Now."

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This is a story about a brief period in my life in 1968 when I was 12. The story revolves around my family, friends,and school as I followed Robert Kennedy's 1968 Presidential campaign.

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I'm open to all types of feedback, but am particularly interesting in places where I’ve told something that might be more effective if shown. Also any comments or suggestion regarding setting and sections that would benefit from more or less that would be great as well. Thanks

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This is a semi-autobiographical work of fiction, in the likes of James Joyce. It is told in the first person, and the protagonist relates his adventures around Boston and New York. The hero of the story is a young man who has already gone through his Bildungsroman and knows who he is - a scholar of Greek and Latin - he just doesn't know what to do now, or what kind of job he'll get. While everyone else is in the 21st century, the protagonist views the world through a prism of marble and papyrus. The novel is divided into five parts. Part I begins in medias res (flashbacks throughout the story fill in prior details), with the protagonist graduating college and admittedly preparing to go to graduate school because he does not know what to do with his degree. Many characters are introduced, as well as preliminary Latin Grammar terms. Part II takes place during the summer before graduate school, and it ends with the protagonist moving to New York to begin the program. The main character feels trapped living in an apartment with his longtime girlfriend, but finally escapes to New York – the girlfriend representing a postmodern version of Calypso from The Odyssey. Other themes of Part II include how the Classics have influenced modern math, science, and medicine. Part III covers the first year of graduate school, introduces characters in New York, and overwhelms the reader with all the sights and sounds of America’s modern Rome. The theme of Part III is how the Classics have influenced modern art, architecture, theater and music. Part IV covers the second year of graduate school, with the main character feeling burnt out by school and living in New York. The theme of Part IV is how the Classics have influenced modern government, politics, and law. Part V concludes with the protagonist moving back to Boston and finding a job as a Latin teacher. The theme of Part V is how the Classics have influenced modern religion and philosophy. The irony is that, while the protagonist understands that his degree encompasses so many areas of knowledge, he realizes that the entire story he has been educating the reader. In the end, he becomes a teacher. Throughout the novel, allusions and references to Greek and Latin abound.

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For as long as I can remember, I've been an excellent judge of character--canine character. Not so with men. While choosing the perfect canine companion comes easily, making healthy romantic choices proves much more challenging. In my 20s, my heart ached for Dave, a talented and sexy celebrity chef who dumped me for the fiancé I didn’t know existed. That’s when I went to the pound and got a dog, Blondie, who consoled me with unconditional love. Then at 28, I turned to Ryan, a 19-year-old out-of-work actor who was looking for someone to mother him while my dog nurtured me. My 30s were filled with frustrating relationships with men but Blondie never let me down. In my 40s, Blondie died and guided me to my new dog, Baldwin, who introduced me to the world of dog sports and therapy work with hospitalized children. But once again, I was swept off my feet, this time by a manipulative Brit who promised me the world but warned that when we got married, he would not allow me to sleep with my dog. Along this bumpy journey, I met Berry Berenson Perkins whose life and upbringing couldn’t have been more different from my Valley Girl roots. Married to actor Anthony Perkins, sister to actress Marissa Berenson, it turned out this socialite who grew up in London and attending boarding school in Switzerland had more in common with me than it appeared on the outside. Like me, Berry didn’t grow up in the most loving, nurturing household. Somehow, Berry and my little blonde dog helped me learn to overcome my rocky relationships and move into a place of self-love and acceptance independent of any man but filled with canine love and support. This contradiction between canine and human relationships lies at the heart of Sleeps with Dogs, my sometimes painful, sometimes amusing, but always honest memoir. In the same vein as bestsellers, Marley & Me and The Dogs of Bedlam Farms, this memoir takes readers on a journey through the life of a dog lover. As a successful career woman in Los Angeles who runs a busy public relations firm, I began to wonder why I spent so many years riding the roller coaster of singledom. I'd read all the advice books on how to find my soul mate, attended countless seminars and followed the advice of friends as well as strangers but in the end, remained solo. I finally stopped trying to make love happen and accepted and, yes, even embraced my single status. If you want to know why, then Sleeps with Dogs is a MUST read. It illustrates how the unconditional love of my dogs helped me navigate the crazy maze of romantic entanglements that I encountered in Los Angeles spanning three decades, from the 1980s until today. By recreating my childhood then revising my relationships from my 20s, 30s and 40s, Sleeps with Dogs illustrates the hurt, pain and struggle of being single. My faithful dogs helped me move beyond those emotions to a place of self love where at 50, I no longer need a man to feel complete.

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Summer with Grandpa

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The story of how a family was changed completely with the purchase of a new car in 1923. (I submitted this last year, and thanks to those of you who offered comments for improvement. I am sending this in to a magazine for a Father's Day anthology and would like to know if there are any more suggestions from anyone as to how it could be improved. Your thoughts are always greatly appreciated.)

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This rambling "epic" was written for the anticipated 50th year reunion of my high school class. As some can see, I freely borrow from WB Yeats to start my work, after that it is my own. I admit getting too crazy with tongue in cheek pessimism at the end. I'm not sure if they will have the reunion or if I will travel cross country to attend. Anyway, most old classmates probably wouldn't appreciate the poem since they are a conservative lot. Most live in a parallel universe to mine. There could be at least 129 versions of this summation of our common years on this earth.

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Please comment on voice, cadence and general impressions....is there potential for expansion into a book?.....thanks for taking time.....PF2

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Another short portion from my manuscript from Chapter 6 on travel entitled, "A Turk, A American and a Colombian Go into a Australian Pool Hall in Milan, Italy. Any and all feedback is welcome.

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This creative non-fiction is part of the "Franky" series, a collection of tales about growing up the son to a six-foot leprechaun, a warrior, a husband, a coach, a crooner and most of all a father. Frank's kid brother was never my favorite person, let alone uncle. The two men were born and reared in the same Brooklyn working-class household, yet their values and views were world's apart. Why? I often wondered. The enclosed story addresses part of the answer. Much like Mrs. Dubose of "To Kill A Mockingbird," the circumstances that compel our lives are painted in more than black and white brush strokes.

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First 2 chapters of semi-fictional novelette of a memoir of my Peace Corps experiences. Lonely young man on holiday in Africa vainly searches for excitement until he meets more than he could imagine. Would appreciate criticism how it flows, if it rings true (these chapters are nonfiction except for names), if the use of foreign words or references to sex are a turnoff, etc.

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YOU ARE WELCOME AND INVITED TO JUMP IN ANY WHERE YOU WISH. All the chapters have been revised. The novel is posted in its entirety so you may read at your leisure (DISABLED CHAPTERS WILL AUTOMATICALLY BE ENABLED FOR ANY NEW REVIEWERS GOING BEYOND CHAPTER 3). There has been some shuffling so the previous reviews may not always match up with the chapter that it is attached to (likewise with the chapter number in the text). I have made substantial changes and the story will be shopped as two books rather than one. The break is clearly marked. I hope this final go through will make it ready to publish, so any comments whatsoever will be appreciated - punctuation, character, dialgoue, flow, ANYTHING you think would improve the readability. Though it is basically true, the characters are composite and the time lines may be occasionally altered with some literary license thrown into the mix - so, I have changed the genre from memoir to commercial fiction, and now YA this time around. Especially interested in the new flow pattern. Opinions? Thanks for your help and advice.

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This is a love quest, a story about family secrets in the age of sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll. While American youth were growing their hair, experimenting with psychotropic drugs and protesting the Vietnam War, I was running for my life to Alaska, hoping to outdistance my troubled, murky past and vanquish the demons in my head. I knew my past was dark, but I did not know it all. The storyline is a progressive quest for adventure, self-discovery, and enlightenment with more twists and turns than a Texas sidewinder: from a six-month cruise in the Caribbean to a jail in California; from a cabin in the Sierra Nevada to a remote river camp in the Trinity Mountains; from the Aleutian Islands to Hawaii. Wrapped in a riddle with psychological and paranormal overtones, the story embodies the adolescent spirit of romance, rebellion and idealism, and celebrates the contention that given even less than half a chance, life not only endures...it prevails.

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CZ is a real live person, an author, former VP/Editor at HarperCollins, and now, in her retirement, an Editor Emerita. She has given me permission to reveal her full name. This creative nonfiction story is essentially how I stumbled into "My Writing Life." Enjoy.

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All comments and opinions are welcome.

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This is my entry for the My Writing Life contest. Parts have been borrowed from my memoir, Root Hog or Die. Any suggestions for improvement will be appreciated. Thanks.

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This novel-length memoir details the growth and emotional shifts that occur when a thirtysomething woman decides to turn her husband's sexual fantasy into reality. While there will certainly be some vivid descriptions of sex as the story progresses, it is intended for a mainstream audience. The more detailed the critique, the better. I can take it!

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Modobenny has been twisting my arm. She has finally convinced me to begin the process of coalescing these stories into a novel format. Some of the chapters are simply cut and paste from the Short Story postings. Others are new. As always, have at it with suggestions. Lord knows, I wouldn't let any of you off the hook. Thanks again, to all who have helped me get even this far. I couldn't have done it without you. Scott

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This story took place two years ago. I still can't talk about it without choking up. Read, offer points and suggestions. My intent is to show what some of these calls do to emergency workers.

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This article had been commissioned for a women's magazine here in Australia. The word count HAS to be 800 words which doesn't leave a lot of room to move! Some advice would be appreciated :) IT has to be sent in by the 30th November, Australian time.

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I’m a Babyboomer, born in 1955, raised in New York City. One morning in 1968 I woke up after a prophetic dream about finding true love and happiness. It stayed with me my entire life. It wasn’t until I turned 49 (and 11 months) that I realized what it truly tried to teach me. ***** STREET OF ROGUES chronicles the oft-stupid and sometimes bizarre journey of my schlepp to harmony—from New York City to Germany, Austria, Spain, California, Belgium, Switzerland, France, England, Italy, Yugoslavia, Holland, Greece and finally back to NYC and a reunion with many of my old ‘Partners in Crime,’ (whom I hadn’t contacted in twenty-seven years). My life had come full circle, to an understanding of what my childhood dream really meant.

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I wrote this last year but having looked at it, realise how far I have improved in my writing, so decided to polish this up and finally send it off somewhere. Accordingly re-posted :)

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I've written about my life growing up in poverty in the small town of Brighton, Illinois during the 1970's. We were reared in an abusive atmosphere where our mother suffered from depression and obesity, but she was a prophetess. God wanted us to go through garbage dumpsters for food and to eventually move to a remote location in Missouri where we lived in a cave for four years. My childhood started out normal with love and respect from two working parents, but it was short-lived because Mom and Dad separated when I was four. Dad didn't pay child support and Mom no longer worked. We lived in cluttered, filthy, hoarding conditions. By the time I was twenty years old, I was six feet three inches tall and weighed one hundred and thirty pounds; I was homeless, depressed, and suffered everyday from headaches to severe migraines and vomiting. I lived through a unique experience that has given me a personal glimpse into the lifestyle and mindset of our nation's poorest people. Billions of people in the world live below the poverty level and millions of people in the U.S. suffer from a depressive illness. It's been a long emotional journey for me to write forty-five chapters that begin with my first visits with a mental health counselor and then chronicles the first twenty years of my life. I was educated in the Illinois public school system through the ninth grade when I was pulled from school so we could live a better life for God without the influence of our sinful society. I love my parents, but they are the strangest people I have ever met. I didn't write my memoir out of hate or revenge. I began writing after a counselor suggested it to relieve stress.

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When working in San Francisco you have to ask, “Is pot still illegal?” Young Jason has taken his first hit of marijuana. It's not sitting well with him. Jason also has a date. I sort through the medical issues while tempering the affections of the two lovebirds. In San Francisco, normal is a little different. Before the story, I've included a "Snippet", a totally unrelated flash. I've got these lying around and wanted to get some thoughts on them as well.

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A woman has died and telling the family is my job. While I don't relish the duty, it must be done with a careful choice of words and compassion. Of course, there are other ways to do it, too.

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Let’s just say an abscess doesn’t happen overnight. When Danielle and I get called at three in the morning, the patience line is a little thin. The ambulance is locked inside a parking lot and I must play twenty questions to find the key to the gate. It’s now four in the morning and I blow my top. These are the calls that eat paramedics alive over the years.

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The cops have found a lady in the communal shower of a hotel. She’s not talking and there is some blood on the floor. Sleep deprived and grumpy, an engine crew, James, and I tromp up the stairs to find out what emergency woke us all up.

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Betty Kay (or is it Kay Betty?) has a nosebleed. She won’t give a straight answer and I am losing my mind just trying to get her name. In the end, I am exhausted after verbally jousting with a difficult patient and even more shocked to find out why her nose started bleeding in the first place.

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It’s time to deliver the baby. Dad’s having a hard time sitting still, Mom is Deaf, and we’re all stuffed inside a ten-foot by four-foot ambulance.

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Balancing the needs of my patients sometimes leaves an emotional mark that must be faced... after the work is done.

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Damn, this guy’s got…one, two, three… My fingers follow the progression of bullet holes I have found…four, five,…six,…seven holes in him. Who’d he piss off? Daryl Robert Preston has been shot – seven times. It’s EMS at its fastest. The patient is talking when the fire crew, my partner, and I get to him. Problems keep popping up. A helpful firefighter and I have to solve them all at the same time while rocketing to the hospital. Can the patient be saved? He's got eight minutes.

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This is my emerging memoir. For the time being, each chapter is a stand-alone "episode," and I have not yet determined the framework for tying them together. Don't worry about reviewing them in order. Imagine that I am making a necklace, and I am crafting the beads one at a time; once they are crafted, I will string them in a pleasing and relevant order, adding the necessary transitions at that time. This memoir will include my childhood in the 1970's, teens in the 1980's, motherhood beginning in 1994. The main themes of the larger work relate to three diagnoses in my forties: Borderline Personality Disorder, Bi-polar Disorder, and Breast Cancer.

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