Welcome to Memoir Land—a newsletter edited by Sari Botton, now featuring four verticals:
Memoir Monday, a weekly curation of the best personal essays from around the web brought to you by Narratively, The Rumpus, Granta, Guernica, Oldster Magazine, Literary Hub, Orion Magazine, The Walrus, Electric Literature, and WBUR’s Cognoscenti. Below is this week’s curation. At the bottom are instructions for submitting. ⬇️
First Person Singular, featuring original personal essays.
The Lit Lab, featuring interviews—The Memoir Land Author Questionnaire—and essays on craft and publishing. There are also weekly writing prompts and other exercises from, ahem, a New York Times bestselling ghostwriter of memoirs (that’s me) exclusively for paid subscribers.
Goodbye to All That, where I continue to explore my fascination with the most wonderful and terrible city in the world, something I began doing with two NYC-centric anthologies, Goodbye to All That, and Never Can Say Goodbye, both inspired by Joan Didion’s iconic essay.
“"I love memoir. It's my favorite thing to write and to read. So how could I NOT subscribe! Keep up the good work.” - Carolynn Carreño, paid subscriber.
by James Spooner
“In smaller towns and cities, like the one I came from, counting all the Black members of the alternative scene only requires a finger or two. A lot of those kids eventually move to big cities to find their people. Pool Bar became a meeting spot for Black alternative kids, as the venue regularly booked Black rock acts. The bands on this bill drew us together. Mixed with the other people of color in the room, for once, the white kids were in the minority.”
by Sasha Chanoff
“With the Congo at war, the odds of getting people out were slim…As we were about to leave, a humanitarian aid worker urged us to see a group of new arrivals in a nearby tent. I said our list was closed — we couldn’t meet or take anyone else. But my colleague Sheikha insisted on taking a look, and I followed. Inside were 32 widows and orphans — traumatized and emaciated. Sheikha leaned down to a young boy holding what looked like a doll and asked its name. Suddenly, the doll’s eyes opened. It was a tiny infant, barely alive.”
by Emilee Hackney
“Despite a lifetime of church, I’d only ever had an abstract understanding of God. And now, after everything that had happened, after weeks of pain and fury and unanswered questions and prayers, I was completely unsure of who he was, what his role was in my life or anyone else’s. The cool lake air filled my lungs. It was fishy and salty, sweet and biting. There was another smell, too, fainter—weed and old carpet, engine oil and cherry air freshener. The scent of Jeremy’s car and clothes. It was oddly soothing. I wanted to bottle it up. Take it home. Maybe even wear it myself. I scooted an inch closer to Jeremy and breathed in deeply once more."
by Rachel Kramer Bussel
“If I could go back, I’d tell you to think a little more clearly about what you’d want your day-to-day life as a mom to look and feel like. Many people idealize their wedding day and don’t think about what marriage will be like afterward; you did that with motherhood. At 50, I now have the deep privilege of being able to choose how I spend my days, for the most part, when I’m not caring for my daughter. You thought that would be idyllic; I find myself feeling guilty for not finding it as utopian.”
by Rona Maynard
“We’d no sooner chosen my shiny blue bike than the salesman proposed training wheels. My father looked dismayed; my mother bought the pitch. It wasn’t like her to spend extra money. She’d drive out of her way to save a few cents on canned tuna. But she couldn’t say no to training wheels. ‘Dear, you know how timid Rona is. They’ll build her confidence.’”
by Ledio
"Antonia taught me the concept of καψουρικά – lovesick infatuation, the ache of wanting someone you can't have. I can't think of a better example than Mitropanos's ‘Δυο Νύχτες’ (Two Nights) – an ominous synthesizer drone, a driving bouzouki and his sorrowful voice punctuated by long drawn-out Ahs. Unlike Marinella's earlier song of the same name, Mitropanos's version seems also about the night within: despair at the unfairness of the world."
by Jessica Ciencin Henriquez
“I had become so fluent in abandoning myself that I offered tenderness before ever acknowledging my own injuries. It’s possible to be loved and still not feel safe. What was missing was something I didn’t yet have a name for, something I kept asking the wrong people to provide. I was giving every man who loved me an impossible job: Be solid so I feel solid. Protect me so I feel protected.
by Mercedes O'Leary
“It was in that moment that the two boys founded The Society for Loose Livestock and the Preservation of Wild Abandonment. Their mission: to bring freedom to all creatures, human and otherwise. The height of its membership was two, himself and Larry. Mostly, Timmy sought to preserve his own wild abandonment, so his emancipation from the duties of school might extend beyond the summer months. However, he also fervently believed in the liberation of all beings, including the livestock on the surrounding farms.”
Looking for the Night Dispatcher
by Kate Stone Lombardi
“Only five guys showed up for the class. Each had a ratty washcloth wrapped around his neck. They were meant to serve as personal cooling devices. But any coolness the cloth once held had long since given way to the building’s oppressive heat. When it’s hot outdoors, it’s even hotter inside prison. “Don’t take it personal,” M told me, as his chin indicated the empty chairs in the room. Class attendance is always sparse during the summer, he told me. The guys don’t relish walking up the hill to the school building. Many languish in their cells, too hot to move. If there’s any sort of breeze, they head to the yard.”
by Isabel Jones
“The social media forums I’ve visited describe someone who goes from fiancée to wife as having “graduated,” so maybe the experience is academic. A semester abroad in the land of brides, where one is to indulge in the beautiful and the feminine, but must remain disciplined over all else. You’re encouraged to spend your life savings on a single night, but that doesn’t free you to enjoy the night. There are rules, traditions—dance with your father, feed your partner cake. Buy a loud, expensive dress, but make sure it’s in a color you will almost certainly stain. Sit in hair and makeup for two hours, and then stand in front of every meaningful presence in your life, bare your soul, and try not to cry your false eyelashes off. The bride who’s still standing (in heels) by the end of the night gets an A.”
by Blair Glaser
“While I’m used to the shock and awe that comes from more than 40 years of watching Madonna reinvent and preserve herself, I wasn’t expecting to feel shock when I saw Robin Byrd after not seeing her for decades. It took me a few moments to reconcile the woman I remember with the one on the screen. Her signature blond locks have been replaced by a gray top knot. Once known for her self-proclaimed ‘bangin’ body,’ she has gained weight. Although Byrd, as a minor New York celebrity, never had Madonna’s pressures to keep up with industry standards, she’s still done something radical. As a former adult performer, Byrd hasn’t preserved the image of her heyday; she’s allowed herself to look 70. While I would never say she’s let herself go, she has let her former self go, and it’s inspiring.”
by Michael Pereira
“I walked into the ICU expecting to support my friend. Instead, I accidentally met myself. Not in a spiritual woo woo way, ‘the universe sent me a message’ vibes. More in the annoying way life occasionally grabs you by the shoulders and says, ‘Sweetie Dahling... we've been trying to reach you about your own existence.’”
by Allison Kirkland
“While I was at Duke my sorority volunteered at the Ronald McDonald House once a month. We cooked dinner in the communal kitchens — usually grilled cheese and tomato soup — for the families and hospitalized children staying there. I never looked around, never thought much of it then. I had walled off that part of myself, intending to always keep it locked away.”
by Brigeda Hernandez
“Turns out I didn’t really know my route home, and I was a block or two into my walk when I began to strongly regret my decision. No one was approaching me, but things seemed very off and I felt very unsafe. I was in art school at the time, so I was most likely carrying a portfolio and art supplies. Ready to drop them and run if I needed to. And just as I’m thinking Oh fuck, get me out of here, a man appeared at my side.”
by Anandi Mishra
“When I read about Levy renting a shed from a friend in order to write, the shed to which she bicycles each day and where she writes all her books, I thought of my mother sitting on the bar of the cycle, escaping to my aunt’s home. Both Levy and my mother learned to unlearn what it means to live life as a woman bound by other people’s expectations. The quiet battles they fought in a different era, the way they separated the wheat from the chaff, gave me hope.”
by Pia Hinckle
“I’ve been trained to think of success in only one direction–forward. There is so much shame in not finishing your swim, not finishing your book, not publishing your manuscript. Open water swimming keeps teaching me there are other directions, like sideways and even backwards, that can ultimately bring a deeper success: resilience.”
by Penny Nolte
“On the day of our visit everything had been removed. Except a stuffed owl up in the cupola, still guarding Grandpa’s attic from an aerial assault by bats. Much like the horseshoes, pointed up for luck, that he hung above doors to guard the house from other dangers. The power was already off as we roamed through the empty shell taking pictures without a flash in dim light coming through dirty windowpanes.”
“Our Essay Collection in a Year program will support you during the long road from idea generation to composition to revision and beyond. It’s a unique opportunity to join a writing cohort, study craft, workshop key scenes, measure your progress, meet deadlines, and give and get support in the development of long-form literary work.
Includes: 11 sessions, meeting once per month for 11 months; A manuscript review with Megan Stielstra; Various online social gatherings with your cohort; Discount admission passes to our Master Classes; A private online chat forum; VIP status at the Studio; A literary community to take well beyond this program. $2,750
Award-winning author, journalist and screenwriter, Jerry Stahl is the author of twelve books, including three memoirs -- Permanent Midnight, made into a movie starring Ben Stiller; O.G. Dad: Weird Shit Happens When You Don’t Die Young, and Nein, Nein, Nein!: One Man’s Tale of Depression, Psychic Torment, and a Bus Tourof the Holocaust, which was included in Kirkus Reviews 100 Best Books of the Year and optioned by Robert Downey Jr.
In this masterclass, he shares the techniques and ingredients you need to turn your life into a compelling book. This session is geared for writers who believe their personal journey is one worth sharing. But before they do, they’ll need a structure and blueprint to get them going.
Saturday, August 15 1:00-3:00pm ET; $150.
Join New York Times bestselling Care and Feeding author and longtime Anthony Bourdain lieutennant Laurie Woolever for a special writing retreat on a private island in West Cork. Indulge all of your creative senses on this bespoke 5 night writing retreat featuring Laurie Woolever, the author of the memoir Care and Feeding. Our all-inclusive experience includes craft workshops on topics such as recipe writing and the purpose and function of food and travel writing, as well as individual feedback sessions. We’ll meet local artisans and chefs and spend time in nature as we hone our craft.
This takes place on a small private island in the heart of West Cork, Ireland’s food artisan capital, complete with 50 acres of woodland walks, a walled garden, and an indoor pool. $5,000.
Sentence Club, a craft book bookclub from Literary Liberation, starts August 1st! Join Sherisa de Groot, Shawna Ayoub, and Emma Akpan as we work our way through our first selection over the next three months. We all need to take words more seriously. We also need to play more. Maybe that sounds contradictory, but something that social media has made blatantly clear is we all have a responsibility to learn language. To be meaning makers.
Order the book! We’ll read together, annotate together, and meet a few times live to write and discuss what we’re learning. This is free for all subscribers.
Eating Our Poems: Writing About Food, led by Karen Zheng, will explore the works of poets like Jane Wong, Nikki Giovanni, and Kemi Alabi to discover how contemporary poets “eat” within their poems. Learn tactics for cooking food into poetry and discover the metaphorical depth of food as a love language, economics, scarcity, and doubt.
Details: Sunday, August 16 | 11a-2p ET | 15 seats available.
Blaise Allysen Kearsley is considering essays of up to 1500 words and micro-essays between 500 and 800 words for her excellent magazine, How I Learned.
“What to send: Sharp, personal narratives with an evocative spin on existential-leaning themes. Stories about the horror and the hilarity of being in the world. The profound and the absurd; the texture, the nuance; a particular way of seeing. How we change, or don’t change; how the world changes, or fails to. How people try. Moments of discovery conflict with the old narrative and challenge a long-held belief. Little things are big. Not everything aligns. Nothing resolves neatly. Make meaning out of chaos, but leave us wondering what happens after it ends.”
Four days of yoga + guided writing in an intentionally intimate group. You’ll return to what’s true for you and leave with real momentum on the page and in your life. Peel away from the demands of day-to-day life and chart your own unique path forward in the Catskill Mountains. Here, you’ll have the opportunity to pause and reconnect with yourself and your creative purpose.
Dates: Aug 27–30, 2026
Where: Spruceton Inn, West Kill, NY
Group size: Only 7 guests (intimate by design)
Rooms: All private rooms
Includes: Lodging + all meals + daily yoga + daily writing sessions
Investment: $3,000 (includes $500 deposit to secure your spot).
The title of the essay and a link to it.
Your name and Substack profile link, if you have one, so I can tag you in the post.
A paragraph or a few lines from the piece that will most entice readers.
Please be advised that we cannot accept all submissions, nor respond to the overwhelming number of emails received. Also, please note that we don’t accept author submissions from our partner publications.
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