Best Narrative Nonfiction Novels & Stories

She knew that she could sneak out then. “All nurses’ report to the conference room” was heard in the hall, so this was her breakthrough moment. She snuck out of her room, down the hall and surprisingly out the doors. She started to run as fast as she could and soon ended up in the woods. No one would find her now since she had left her phone there and took anything they could get a scent on her with. Before she realized it she was at the edge of a cliff. She couldn't go back to where she came from, but now what was she going to do. Part of her wanted to just get all this over with and jump, but she already loved the baby inside her and knew that was not an option. So overwhelmed by stress sh

"Faster than most people. I usually finish a book in a day if I have time." He leaned back in his chair. "What do you read?" "Everything. History. Narrative nonfiction. Novels, if they're good." I paused. "Business writing, sometimes. If it's actually about ideas and not just someone padding a magazine article into a book." Something shifted in his expression. "Which business writers?" "Depends on what I'm reading about." I kept my voice even. "Industry-specific stuff is usually better in journal form than book form. Too much gets lost in the translation to general audience."

While packing, I would think of his disfigured body when he died. So, I packed on and off for two full days. At the very end, as I was wiping down a decorative piece on Dad's desk, a click sounded. A hidden compartment appeared on the bookshelf behind me, revealing a locked box. I froze for a second, then pried the box open with a hammer. Inside was a document I had never seen before. I read through it, noting that the contents seemed to relate to the Bianchi family's bankruptcy. I steadied my racing heart and hired a trusted private investigator to look into the matter.

Instead of facing his own demon, Sabrina's father took his own life in front of his family, scarring his own daughter for life. Being a non-fiction novelist, most of my stories are about people’s experiences. I collect facts through research and interviews, then retell the stories through books. My stories, in turn, memorialize their contributions in life and highlight their suffering and pain. This way, they shall be remembered and hopefully, their story helps someone along the way, someone who currently faces these difficulties.

Because of this, I would like to point out that this story is not for the weak of stomach or faint of heart. You’d expect to find a story like this in the fiction aisle of your brick and mortar bookstore instead of the non-fiction section where it truly belongs, and that’s okay with me. In fact, I prefer it. It makes it easier to tell a story that I find unbelievable even though I lived through it when it’s formatted and touted as fictitious. I feel free sharing the details under the guise of make believe.

He was old school if he read a wide variety of the comics that inspired them. “That’s really cool,” she told him honestly. He smiled. “Not as cool as reading nonfiction for fun. That’s seriously impressive. I never read nonfiction unless it was for school.” “Fiction and nonfiction both have their places in terms of entertainment and how informative they are. I feel like fiction does a better job of overall explaining the human condition and how people tick than nonfiction does because of the variety of characters’ emotions and motivations.” “That makes sense. I suppose there are psychology textbooks but those are clinical and often use terms laypeople can’t understand.”

she hissed. Camila chuckled lightly and earned a glare from Joan “Oh please, it’s too funny to let it pass without laughing,” she shook her head then stopped laughing and gave a serious look “It is an inviting offer but weird, what if you were some serial killer who kills rich handsome men for a living?” Joan looked at her in disbelief and shook her head at her assumptions. “What exactly are you reading that is giving you these ideas?” “It’s a crime documentary darling, and it gives you a sense of security somehow” she shrugged.