My third grade teacher once described a memoir as a slice of life. To my third-grade self, this didn't mean much. But now that I think about it, how fitting a way it was to describe a genre of writing so much about taking a little aspect of one's life and putting a magnifying glass to it—making it big, exposing the small nuances that make it feel real.
Recently, I've been doing a writing exercise where I write nonstop for ten minutes using a small, one-word prompt. Honestly, some of the stuff that comes out isn't so great. It's an exercise. It's supposed to be practice, not a work of genius.
What I will be posting here are the small gems that come out of the exercise—the memoirs that, in my opinion, come out well. These are the slices that are most full of life.