SLOAN ASAKURA (she/he/they) is a poet and memoirist from Los Angeles. They are a 2022 Periplus Fellow, a 2023 Tin House Resident, an upcoming 2025 Tin House Workshop participant, and a 2026 candidate for an MFA in literary arts at…
Content Warning: This piece of creative nonfiction includes the use of a slur and its use reclaimed, as well as a brief scene involving the threat of violence. Act I My mother always said, borrowing from Lois McMaster…
“Mijo. Venga. Ayúdeme.” I rouse myself out of bed at two in the morning. “Mijo, lléveme a El Salto,” he tells me as I enter his bedroom. I sit by his bed, reach over the railing, release his grip.…
Somehow, here—before the picnic ramadas and megaplayground and volley and basketball courts near a man-made lake with knolls bristled with grass—stood, for ninety-nine years, a residential boarding school named Phoenix Indian School. But no more. This acreage is now…
Poet, translator, memoirist, fiction writer, and visual artist Jesse Lee Kercheval’s recently released graphic memoir French Girl portrays seventeen episodes from throughout Kercheval’s life, rendered in vibrant color by Kercheval herself. It showcases the powerful immediacy of Kercheval’s twenty…
Essay by Gabriel Moseley • I had the great pleasure of meeting Deborah Jackson Taffa at the Vermont Studio Center in October 2023, where she was the Visiting Writer. It was stick season—the dismal threshold between the time of…
I. Rain gush-pummels our car. Whippet wipers slash frantically at the whitecaps. Off to Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania, to watch our daughter, Lily’s, volleyball tournament. It’s the weekend before Thanksgiving, and our son, Hudson, is meeting us there from Pittsburgh. …
This used to be my go-to anecdote when warming up to strangers in bars: the one about my pageant for the repairman. It had been my parents’ first color television, a Zenith workhorse in a wooden case, complete with…
The editors at CRAFT are thrilled to welcome Donald Quist as our guest judge for this year’s Memoir Excerpt & Essay Contest, which is open to memoir excerpts, personal essays, narrative nonfiction, lyric essays, and other forms of literary…
I was halfway through the show when I first saw the picture, hanging all alone on a wall. I knew I should hurry up, had other things to do. But something about the size and the color drew me…
The hardest thing about writing “Appetites” was deciding whether to write the essay at all. That’s because it’s about binge eating, a subject that is very personal for me and wrapped up in layers of guilt and shame. Over the past few years, I have written around the issue, publishing essays about diners, supermarkets, and memories of my parents’ lavish entertaining. I also alluded to an episode of binge eating in a memoir, and the relief I found in the twelve-step program of Overeaters Anonymous.
However, I never focused directly on the problem itself. I never thought I could, even though some part of me has always wanted to, because addiction is just a compelling human story, filled with mystery, sadness, and, sometimes, redemption.
But as many have observed, we are now living in a golden age of memoir, when virtually no topic is off limits, and people are eager to read and write about difficult subjects, including disordered eating and body dysmorphia.
Once I decided that I could actually write this essay, the next problem was how to organize it and present it to the reader. The Guston painting gave me a relatively straightforward narrative framework. I went to an exhibit of his work in Boston, spotted the painting across one of the galleries, stood in front of it, and was flooded with ideas, memories, and emotions.
When I got back to New York, I looked at more of his work, bought the exhibition catalog, and read his daughter Musa Mayer’s fascinating book, Night Studio: A Memoir of Philip Guston. It goes without saying that I am very different from Guston, who died in 1980 at age sixty-six. But I felt like we had enough in common that I could tell the story I had to tell by “listening” to his picture.
Because clearly, here was a man driven by large appetites—for art and love, family and friends, and yes, alcohol and food. The unexpected bonus of essentially using his gorgeous painting as a writing prompt was that all the shame I felt around my problem morphed into a perverse kind of pride.
ANN LEVIN is a writer, book reviewer, and former editor at the Associated Press. Her essays and memoir have been published in The Inquisitive Eater, The Coachella Review, Mr. Beller’s Neighborhood, and many other literary magazines. She has also read her essays onstage with the New York-based writers’ group Writers Read. Find her on Twitter @annlevinnyc.
