Furries, speechwriting, and Memoir Monday on Zoom!
Welcome back to Memoir Monday—a weekly newsletter and quarterly reading series, brought to you by Narratively, The Rumpus, Catapult, Longreads, Granta, and Guernica. Each essay in this newsletter has been selected by the editors at the above publications as the best of the week, delivered to you all in one place. It may be the start of a new work week, but at least we have this great new writing to get us through it.
Soft Parts
by Sarah Kasbeer (art by Alana Salguero)
I texted my sister to ask if she knew what a furry was. Aren’t those the sexual deviants? She responded, having fallen for the media narrative that the fandom is full of fetishists—weirdos who go to sex parties and possibly engage in bestiality. I sent her back a photo of a teal elephant fursuit I had discovered online with wide eyes, a round, bean-bag shaped body, and limbs that flared ever-so-slightly toward soft, flat elephant feet. I thought she might recognize that it looked like my favorite stuffed animals from childhood: three tiny teal elephants I had cared for like they were my imaginary children.
The Coastal Shelf
by June Amelia Rose
I was getting ready for a kinky leather social mixer when I slipped my mother’s engagement ring onto my finger for the first time. I pulled on a flowing, gothic dress, then did my makeup, glancing at her most prized possession in the mirror as I penciled in my eyeliner. I don’t remember how, in the tumult after her death, I came into possession of the ring, but apparently I did.
Secret Life of an Anonymous Speechwriter to the Stars
by Claire Rudy Foster
The only place where I didn’t need to moderate my tone, where I could speak freely, was in my addiction recovery community. Through the first, dramatic stages of my transition, when my voice broke and when I was so afraid that my anger and panic was unwelcome in the world, the friends I knew there listened to me and encouraged me to keep sharing. They understood that, for people like us, honesty is lifesaving. People who swallowed their feelings relapsed, disappeared and died.
A Family on the Border, of the Border
by Victoria Blanco
My Anglo father left my Mexican mother when I was three. He never said why. He didn’t leave abruptly. First, he would stay late at his office, working. Then he started sleeping there. He took longer and longer business trips. When he would return for clothes, my mother would follow him into the bedroom, screaming at him, sobbing and begging him to tell her what had changed. He would always leave again. One day, he never returned.
Mama’s Last Hug (Excerpt)
by Frans de Waal
Watching behaviour comes naturally to me, so much so that I may be overdoing it. I didn’t realise this until I came home one day to tell my mother about a scene on a regional bus. I must have been twelve. A boy and girl had been kissing in the gross way that I couldn’t relate to but that is typical of teenagers, with open mouths moistly clamped onto each other. This by itself was nothing special, but then I noticed the girl afterward chewing gum, whereas before the kiss I had seen only the boy chewing. I was puzzled but figured it out – it was like the law of communicating vessels. When I told my mom, however, she was less than thrilled. With a troubled expression, she told me to stop paying such close attention to people, saying it was not a very nice thing to do.
Writers’ Resources
Sign up for “Writing Personal Essays With Substance,” a 4-week online course at Catapult
Join us next Monday, April 13, for an online edition of the Memoir Monday reading series! The line-up from the AWP offsite event that was cancelled due to COVID-19 will read together after all, on Zoom. The link to join will be included in next week’s newsletter. In the meantime, RSVP on Facebook and invite your friends!
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