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Narrative nonfiction

Safety and a sandpit

A cigarette was never far from her mouth and she was fastidious with the ash. Her puffy, dark hair fell over one eye and she had a habit of pulling her legs against her chest so she could disappear into her jersey. “Is R-A-P-E a word?” I asked, as I

School’s out forever

An audio version of “School’s out forever” is featured in this episode ☝️ of the Without a hitch podcastLeaving high school was hard. Leaving high school again was even harder. I was terrified the first time I left high school. The rules and routines of school held me in suspension

Losing my face

How the New Zealand government dashed my aspirations of becoming an investigative journalist by capturing my face The wind was dusting up the Newtown air; it was difficult to see clearly. Taking refuge in Cash Converters, I slipped between exercise contraptions from nineties infomercials and walls of sad, scratched compact

Hullo, big nose

This is the story of a really, really big nose, and how it was excluded from the bullying canon at a boarding school in the late nineties. The year was 1997 and there was little mercy. I was receiving a pretty generous share of the bully cake. My crimes were

Waste and youth

An audio version of “Waste and youth” is featured in this episode ☝️ of the Without a hitch podcastSome of us had anticipated a go-carting excursion, or a trip to the local pools (hydroslide!) complete with soft-serve ice-cream; at the very least a bus trip somewhere further than just down the

The slow thaw of workplace relationships

An audio version of “The slow thaw” is featured in this episode ☝️ of the Without a hitch podcastMatsui-sensei blinked and wiped the sweat from his eyes. His curly hair frizzed in the humidity. He wrestled to half-tuck his shirt over his belly as he introduced himself as my team-teaching associate.

The shirt off my back

I was once asked for the shirt off my back. It was in Wanganui, outside Big Orange café. The sun tanned the pavement bricks, the breeze ruffled the petals of flowers in hanging baskets, and Ben Crotty asked if I would give him the shirt off my back. It was