November 24, 2016 § 4 Comments
Dear Brevity Readers:
In many ways, memoir is like a turkey. The plumage more beautiful than we thought, the majestic strut that says I am here, the delicious meat beneath the feathers, the usefulness and goodness down to the very bones.
And that, to get to that goodness, there has to be an axe. Or a cleaver. That there is a brutal execution, a dismemberment, and a great deal of dressing involved in presenting the important parts for consumption. The right garnishes. Attractive china. All so your friends can gasp with admiration and admire your ambition, and your mother can suggest you should have used more salt. Or less salt. Or at least left out Uncle Harry.
Writing is so often seen as solitary, and yet one must, even tangentially, become part of and benefit from a community. Emerge from the word-kitchen and present the fruits of our labors, or invite a select few in to taste and make suggestions in the process.
We’re glad you’re our community.
Thank you for sticking with us, for passing links to your favorite posts to your friends, for re-blogging, for putting your thoughts in our comments and on Facebook and Twitter.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts on writing, and agreeing with (and contradicting!) ours.
Thank you for submitting your work to our magazine, and sending in guest posts for this blog.
Thank you for publishing essays we can link to.
Thank you for contributing to our funds and our mission with your money, your talent and your time.
And always, thank you for writing, for reading, and being part of the creative nonfiction and memoir world. You are our dearest literary citizens, and the authors of our fondest memories.