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The Memoirist

We exclusively publish memoirs: The creative stories unpacked from the nostalgic hope chests of our lives.

Joshua Samuel Brown in The Memoirist

Two rows of industrial sewing machines extending backwards in a factory in China. The first two machines are being operated by a man and a woman who are smiling as they work.

Two rows of industrial sewing machines extending backwards in a factory in China. The first two machines are being operated by a man and a woman who are smiling as they work.

Memoir

Confessions of a Sweatshop Inspector

An idealist’s journey into the human-rights…

Romessa Annan in The Memoirist

The Name That Belonged to Me

Overthinking everything!

Abby Paradis in The Memoirist

Stained glass windows, column trees, and the celestial cieling of La Sagrada Família

Stained glass windows, column trees, and the celestial cieling of La Sagrada Família

Unfinished Like Me

Gaudí’s Sagrada Família and the sacred architecture of healing

HCwrites in The Memoirist

An unlit light bulb against a black background

An unlit light bulb against a black background

Spirit Must Find Me Thick in the Head

I ignored nudges for too long and ended up with Stage 3 breast…

Sarah Kyomugisha in The Memoirist

Tell Me About Your Mother

Mine slept one afternoon and forgot to wake up.

Sherene Jensen in The Memoirist

An empty stage with a single microphone and a spotlight shining on closed curtains.

An empty stage with a single microphone and a spotlight shining on closed curtains.

He Called Me a Cow and Publicly Humiliated Me

How a sociopath used my pain for his comedy act

BB Heilman in The Memoirist

Cat Energy

My aversion to neediness

Erin J Daniel in The Memoirist

Love, Lies, and Relapse: Dating Someone in Recovery

Love Isn’t Measured by How Much You Can Tolerate

Chris Raymond in The Memoirist

Parents standing in front of a car sometime in the 1940s. Haiku reads: Mom used to tell me | that Dad was so thin he could | hide behind a tree.

Parents standing in front of a car sometime in the 1940s. Haiku reads: Mom used to tell me | that Dad was so thin he could | hide behind a tree.

SNAPSHOTS OF A LIFE TOLD THROUGH HAIKU

Seeing My Parents as People

Part 2 of a series

Greyson Ferguson in The Memoirist

It’s Funny How Time and Love (Don’t) Work

Neither makes sense. Which makes perfect sense.

The Memoirist

We exclusively publish memoirs: The creative stories unpacked from the nostalgic hope chests of our lives.

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