Category - Creative Non-fiction

Creative Non-fiction Literature Mahta Riazi

Centerpoint Mall Doesn’t Know

Centerpoint Mall doesn’t know the fate that awaits her. The dust that will soon rise from her roof, the way her shadow will shrink from the parking lot. She thinks what we all think about our bodies. Imperishable. Centerpoint is an immigrant mall full of immigrant things. Baadeh. Cameo...

Creative Non-fiction Joseph Jay Literature

Popeye & Sweet Pea

At many stages throughout my life, I often wondered: If I were the same age as my dad, would we have been friends? I knew my dad loved me, but did he like me? Whenever I cleared my mom and sister out of the living room by letting a particularly loud one rip, Dad would grin and say “Like father...

Creative Non-fiction Literature Logan Broeckaert

Filial Piety

Jaimi texted, “Dad died. Call home,” on the eve of World Pride in Toronto. I had just gotten a haircut. I was sweaty from my bike ride home, jumpy with anticipation for the weekend ahead. Our two cats curled through my legs, begging for kibble. As I read, she texted again—Art found him. We didn’t...

Creative Non-fiction Literature Meesh QX

Thank you k.d.

The first time I heard of k.d. lang, I was twenty years old, living at home for the summer, and buckled into the back seat of the family car as we motored up the highway on the first family road trip in years. We were heading northeast towards the interior of B.C. for my cousin’s wedding. My dad...

Ari Lord Creative Non-fiction Literature

Concussion Camp

1. They Say Fish Don’t Feel Pain As a new intake, I’m ushered through a maze of clinical rooms, a noisy lunchroom and a bustling gym. Joanne, the program coordinator, shepherds me, waiting as I shuffle with my cane and pelvic brace. We end at a darkened room set apart from the rest of the clinic...

Creative Non-fiction Leanne Dunic Literature

Why Do You Kiss Everyone

Leanne Dunic A woman who was in my kindergarten class remembers me as the girl who had a crush on the Ghostbusters. I didn’t crush on all of the Ghostbusters, mainly the quirkier of the bunch: Egon Spengler and Peter Venkman. In Venkman, I found humour, self-confidence, street-smarts, and...

Creative Non-fiction Literature Sydni Zastre

Strange Weather

Sydni Zastre We land Saturday around two and it is warm, but the pilot warns us to expect heavy wind in Málaga, coming down from the mountains. The Norwegian boys next to me have been talking since we left Gatwick, while I slept fitfully and read Tipping the Velvet, and they keep talking as I stare...

Ashley-Elizabeth Best Creative Non-fiction Literature

Say Uncle

Ashley-Elizabeth Best The bench is moist from my sweat. I push my right knee down on its centre, left leg anchoring my body to the floor. My fingers grip the dumbbell as I methodically begin pulling the 50lbs up and down, my bicep flexes and tears, each pump tightening the slight curve of my inner...

Creative Non-fiction Literature Steacy Easton

Trans(parent) Membrane

Steacy Easton A few years ago, I went to Boston in November, to give a talk at Harvard about healing and religion, in the context of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that raised me. The Latter-day Saints grew up in the 19th century in frontier areas, and I was mostly talking about...

Creative Non-fiction Grace Kwan Literature

Prelude

Grace Kwan I was five years old when I dreamed of snow for the first time, tucked into my bed in our hilltop apartment in Cloud View Tower, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. In my dream, my mom, dad, and I had just emerged from an air-conditioned building into the street’s simmering heat. I was accustomed to...

Creative Non-fiction Literature Peter KS Yu

Our Bathroom Reno

Peter KS Yu The powdery veins of white pigment float within the deep gray field of our concrete bathroom floor, wisps of cloud in a dark sky. My husband Neil and I put so much intention into making that floor just right. We first conjured a shared vision—a floor with depth, transparency...

Alison Dowsett Creative Non-fiction Literature

What Literature Wants

Alison Dowsett I. As Idea Years ago my friend sent me a draft of an essay she was writing for The Capilano Review titled, “What Literature Wants.” Several years before, we had been neighbours, which is when she introduced me to the work of Clarice Lispector and Hélène Cixous. She was a visual...

C.E. Gatchalian Creative Non-fiction Literature

On A Streetcar Named Desire

C. E. Gatchalian In short, I woke up and began feeling, if not yet living, outside my head. That’s what happened when I first encountered A Streetcar Named Desire. May 5, 1987 Spent seven hours again today practising. After not a single first-place finish at the festival I must do everything to...

Creative Non-fiction Evelyn Deshane Literature

Women Put Their Hands on Me

Evelyn Deshane 1. The first time it happened, my best friend was there. I was first under the needle since my design would need more time. I asked for a custom job; she went for flash. The buzz of the machine thrilled me, and though I made a face as the needle pricked my skin, the pain of the...

Allyson McOuat Creative Non-fiction Literature

They Call Me Boots

Allyson McOuat I am femme. I know this because my feet hurt. All the time. And I like it. I gain my strength from the power that emanates from my stiletto heels. If my bra is not both itching me and poking me in the heart with a loose sharp metal underwire, then I am not complete. If my panties do...

Andrew Sarewitz Creative Non-fiction Literature

Stephen Was

Andrew Sarewitz Friendship comes easy for me. It always has. Love is a wholly different card game. When I finally met the man I felt was my life-long love in Stephen, I was sure and contented. At twenty-seven, it seemed like I’d searched an eternity to find the real thing. I had known who...

Creative Non-fiction Greg Marshall Literature

Our Longest Point

Greg Marshall Only after Dad broke his neck diving into the ocean in Hawaii did we start playing tennis together. Partly, this was a matter of timing. I was ten at the time of the accident; Dad was forty-two. More importantly, though, it was a matter of handicapping. It took Dad fracturing his top...

Charles Demers Creative Non-fiction Literature

Excerpt: The Horrors

H for Heteronormativity Charles Demers When I was about twenty years old, my brother around seventeen, our dad took us out for what was meant to be a nice family dinner at one of Vancouver’s tackiest sushi restaurants. Fairly close to a university, the place’s tagline was “Miso Horny” (Get it? Just...

Creative Non-fiction Literature Nicola Harwood

Halloween

Nicola Harwood   Note about names and pronouns: Names have been changed in this story to protect privacy. Around the age of seventeen, Antwan changed her name and asked to be referred to as female. She has asked that we use male pronouns when referring to the times before then when she still...

Creative Non-fiction Literature Sierra Skye Gemma

Spare Change

Sierra Skye Gemma This piece first appeared in Plenitude magazine, Issue 2. Published here with permission from the author. The first time I see Stacey, I am standing in front of the courthouse on S.W. Morrison, in downtown Portland, Oregon. I’m with all the other punks in our usual spot. This is...

Creative Non-fiction Literature Rhiannon Catherwood

Squeaky Wheels

Rhiannon Catherwood When I was ten years old, I ran away by accident. Every day at recess, I sought out the same secluded alcove in the outer wall of the school. I would sit, take out a spiral notebook, and write, relying on a plastic digital watch to let me know when my thirty minutes were up. The...

Creative Non-fiction Literature Neve Be

Virgins in Time

Neve Be The best sex I’ve ever had was with a sixteen-year-old boy. The thing is, at the time, I was also sixteen. And no, I’m not saying that my literal high school experience was full of good body feels and good sex, because it wasn’t. This hot, affirming sexual experience took place in May of...

Aaron Chan Creative Non-fiction Literature

Underworld

Aaron Chan I don’t know why I’m here. Before I left home, I told myself it was because I didn’t want to listen to my mom’s grating voice anymore while she yelled on the phone. On the SkyTrain, I convinced myself that my soul aches, that after years of searching and countless failed attempts at...

Creative Non-fiction Literature Monica Meneghetti

Hinterqueer in the City

Monica Meneghetti Vancouver wears its October sky like a toque. I long to pull off that sodden wool to reveal the cascading golden curls I know are itching underneath. Back home in Banff, the first skiffs of snow are melting under blue sky while yellow leaves still cling to aspen and poplar. Here...