Content note: references residential school abuse
On my desk at home, I have a small framed photograph, an inch square, one of those black and white school pictures. In it, I’m about five, a bit of a smile, neat brown hair clipped back in a barrette. It was taken at about the time my mother first told me that I was half Indian.
We're excited to announce that the winner of our 2024 Creative Nonfiction Contest and $2000 prize is Nancy Huggett! Her essay "I am a good mother. I am a bad mother. I am no mother at all" is featured in the upcoming autumn issue of The Fiddlehead (no.301).
I am a good mother.
We're excited to announce that Anne Marie Todkill is the winner of our 2023 Creative Nonfiction Contest and $2000 prize! Her essay "Storm Damage" is featured in the upcoming autumn issue of The Fiddlehead (no.297).
Anne Marie Todkill’s story “The Makeweight Piece” won The Fiddlehead’s 2021 fiction contest and appeared in issue no. 291. Her book of poetry, Orion Sweeping (Brick Books), was shortlisted for the 2023 Gerald Lampert Memorial Award. “Storm Damage” is from a collection of essays in progress.
Jamie Kitts’ Interview with Autumn Issue (no. 293) Contributor Spencer Knight
Content Warning: This interview references suicide.
Jenny Hwang is a Korean-Canadian writer and mother. She has previously worked as an immigration lawyer and in refugee resettlement with Canada’s Private Sponsorship of Refugees program. She lives with her family in Mississauga, Ontario.
We're excited to announce that Jenny Hwang is the winner of our 2022 Creative Nonfiction Contest and $2000 prize! Her essay Silkworms is featured in the new Autumn issue of The Fiddlehead (no.293).
Jenny Hwang is a Korean-Canadian writer and mother. She has previously worked as an immigration lawyer and in refugee resettlement with Canada’s Private Sponsorship of Refugees program. She lives with her family in Mississauga, Ontario
Nemea by Eliis Scott
Excerpt
I smelled fryer oil and my rank shoes. Hunched over in a scarlet shell seat at a Wimpy in South Kensington, I averted my eyes from the manager and nursed a small orange crush in a waxed cup, feeling the glares of casual disgust from the diners in the far corner. Hooked on Classics blared from the ceiling speaker.
Invisible Walls: A Decentred Hermit Crab Sticky Note Narrative by Shirley Harshenin
Excerpt
Tabarnacle by Ellen McGinn
Excerpt
On the day, there is a darkness, raven black, on the far edge of the ocean, a soft settled line breaks the sky from the sea and the sea from the sky. Both summer blue, like twins.
Do not start with darkness. Consider blackberry picking this afternoon. Consider a pie. The wasps going insane.
Greenland melts.
Australia is on fire.
