cancer
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Which Direction?
Tonight the mass of girls before me in the arena, swarming like insects, raises a question of economy. How many waitressing shifts, humid summer jobs, and hours babysitting does it take to hold these five boys aloft, to lard the…
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Something to Do with Evolution
I used to be younger than I am now. I used to live in a charming, rundown little house, and now I don’t.
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Super Hot Prof-on-Student Word Sex: Julia MacDonnell
Julia was one of those “students” whom you suspect, after maybe fifteen seconds, should actually be teaching the class you are currently (allegedly) teaching.
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Chicana Fabulosa
Michele Serros passed away from cancer earlier this year, but her influence—and her infectiousness—lives through just about everyone/thing/place she encountered; Jessica Langlois shares a glimpse of that at the Los Angeles Review of Books: Michele believed her stories deserved to…
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Changeling
The story of how I wrote my second novel begins in 1999, when my four-year-old daughter Anna had a minor accident that caused massive intercranial bleeding.
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Like Writer, Like Character
Sometimes writers end up diagnosed with the very same disease they’ve inflicted on their characters. Natalie Serber knows firsthand—she received a breast cancer diagnosis halfway through creating Mona Brown, a character in her latest novel. Over at Beyond the Margins,…
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Much Ado About Something
While Affordable Care Act (ACA) opponents were muttering dire warnings of a falling sky, our troop of the uninsured hugged and cried and filled that same sky with utterances of shocked joy.
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The Big Idea: Eve Ensler
Writer, journalist, activist, and lifelong feminist Eve Ensler talks with Suzanne Koven and explores the body’s relationship to the desecration of the earth, the importance of listening to the “real” in ourselves, and how it feels to be known as…
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Birdlings and Other Young Poets
Via Longreads, a Michigan Quarterly Review essay by Miah Arnold about teaching creative writing to children hospitalized with (often terminal) cancer. Reading it feels like having your heart thrown off a skyscraper, but it’s so good you have to read…
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Suppose I Kept on Singing Love Songs Just to Break My Own Fall
I don’t remember what I was doing when my aunt called to tell me my father was dying.
