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Publisher Description

Yes, They’re Real is a series of creative nonfiction shorts that continued in 2011 at the University of North Florida. The six short stories penned by Summer Brooks, Thomas Eadie, JJ Grindstaff, Benjamin Liff, Matt Randall and Travis Wildes are linked together by each author’s perspective of what the genre can resemble and their personal vision of the journey that takes place while writing creative nonfiction. Experience the stories and answer the question for yourself, "Are they?"Excerpts from Yes, They’re Real II:How could I allow someone to get so close just to stab me in the back again. I just wasn’t ready for a relationship I guess, in spite of the persistence of my friends. Seven years is a long time. Time enough to forgive; time enough to forget. But I couldn’t. – The Games We Play by Thomas EadieThe majority of the time, I don’t like children. They’re loud, messy, and don’t know how to talk things out to get what they want. Under a certain age, all children are sociopaths. In my normal life, I try not to associate with sociopaths for the strict reason that they’re crazy. – Get Off My Laptop by JJ GrindstaffTeaching children wasn’t a job either of us were particularly fit for. Smells unique to central China saturated the stale classroom air. Dried fish, spiced fruit paste, five-year-old “little emperors” too pampered to wipe their own asses. I occasionally threatened to throw my students out the window, but the temperature outside was usually too hot or too cold to open it. – Snapshots by Benjamin LiffWe got high in the woods and swore we could hear Bigfoot coming for us. Sean held up our little homemade bong and yelled “Hey Bigfoot, you should come hit this shit!” I found Pop-Tarts in my pocket and traded one to Sean for his most precious piece of knowledge: the secret to getting girls. – Impact by Matt RandallOne minute I’m laughing about mispronouncing cinnamon, and the next I feel a sensational and familiar feeling passing through my circulatory system. I don’t realize it until I feel my head lose its weight and balance. I touch my arms and squeeze my thighs. Numbness and pleasure tingle all over my skin. My mind is no longer focused on the troubles, heartache or stress that has filled my life. Everything feels perfect. – Robert by Summer BrooksIts cracked cobblestone streets—flowers and bits of grass escaping to the warmth of the sun—give way to local shops and residential flats, chunks of their walls relegated to vineries by Mother Nature. Nothing is decaying, but much like the scars on the Sunland Baobab, character is visible—decades of life existing long before my own. – Sidewalks by Travis Wildes

July 22
League Press

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