Creative Nonfiction

We all get tired of being ourselves, sometimes. That’s one of the reasons we read, in any genre—to be transported beyond our own experiences, to consider others’ perspectives and ways of going through life, and then, to come back with a fresh outlook

Lee Gutkind Hattie Fletcher Chad Vogler Anna Hall Broudy Printing Stephen Knezovich Patricia Park Amanda Backeris Dinty W. Moore, Patricia Park, Lea Simonds Diane Ackerman, Buzz Bissinger, Edwidge Danticat, Annie Dillard, Dave Eggers, Jonathan Fr

I have just finished writing a book that tells the story of the evolution of creative nonfiction, as I saw it and lived it. And now, as I write this in late July, a couple of weeks after sending the manuscript off to my publisher, I am beginning to f

More specifically, I am Al’s Primary Cutaneous T-Cell Lymphoma. Even more specifically, I’m Al’s Anaplastic Large Cell Lymphoma. Or, you could just call me Cancer, but you’re better off not calling me at all, and hoping that I never call you. Al is f

I magine a sticky, early August morning, around three o’clock. It is dark, the moon blocked by clouds, no streetlights, a siren in the distance, medics running to a heart attack. Imagine a man out on a bike or walking a sick dog, or maybe a woman who

So this dude I’ve been working alongside, landscaping and whatnot, he looks a lot like me: buzz cut that’s starting to grow out, blond beard and mustache, blue eyes, maybe just shy of six feet, 160 or so pounds. Three weeks we’ve been working togethe

yes mama, after all, the only time I really felt uncertain about a sexual advance was at a college party where my boyfriend took me, drunk for the very first time, to his bedroom, pulled my underwear to my knees & used his fingers to enter—did I ment

Push open the high school doors during lunch hour and breathe in the salty-sweet air of Burger King and Taco Bell and Starbucks, the delicious temptations of the franchised suburbs. Behind you, forever behind you, the cafeteria food is as appetizing

Early in my career, I joined a writing group with the word change in its name. When friends asked, “What kind of change are you writing about?” I responded, “Whatever kind of change is happening in my life”—whether that change occurred by chance or w

Deceased Matriarchs. Gram. Mom. As I move deeper into the dirt of terminal cancer & the disabilities it brings, I hear frustrated voices, scowling faces, because no one understands. I see shoulders & backs hunched over walkers & canes. I shuffle by t

Between April 14, 2022 and September 19, 2022, the following individuals and organizations contributed to the Creative Nonfiction Foundation. Their generosity makes the magazine and CNF’s other publications and educational programs possible. We are t