Claudia’s Blog

Claudia Sternbach is the Editorial Board Chair of Memoir Journal and Editor in Chief of the celebrated publication Memoir (and). She has also worked as a columnist and feature writer for more than fifteen years, and has written often for the San Francisco Chronicle, the Chicago Tribune and the San Francisco Examiner. She has been published in Redbook Magazine as well as several anthologies. Her first memoir, "Now Breathe" was published by Whiteaker Press in 1999. Her latest memoir "Reading Lips, a Memoir of Kisses" was published by Unbridled Books in Spring 2011. When she is not in the office, Claudia may be found dividing her time between her two hometowns: Santa Cruz, CA and New York, NY.

Claudia's Recent Posts

Mimi Tells All

Mimi is speaking out. That would be 69-year-old Mimi Alford, author of Once Upon a Secret: My Hidden Affair with JFK published by Random House. She has been making the talk show rounds and answering both hard and easy questions. She is soft spoken and has her white hair cut in an attractive bob. Barbara . . .

If these objects could talk

Even though I never met her I think of her often. Each time I use my old, red-handled egg beater or days like yesterday, a living room filled with men watching football while I was in my kitchen smashing ripe avocados with my red-handled pastry cutter. I try to imagine the woman who once owned . . .

What exactly do I do?

Friends, on occasion, have inquired, what is it you do exactly? Family members have wondered the same thing finding the titles Editor in Chief and Editorial Board Chair to be rather vague. They have seen “The Devil Wears Prada” but know I don’t own any fur coats to plop down on a desk while waltzing . . .

Throw Me a Line

There is a river, wide and swift flowing at times. It has no beginning, not that we can see. And it ends, well, it ends differently for each of us. The river is timeless. We are not. We are each in our own small boats, navigating white water, thrilling to the adventure. We embrace the . . .

Can You Hear Me Now?

It is funny, the times I itch to grab the phone and talk to my dad. He was one of the people I wanted to call last Wednesday. Eager to tell him about my daughter, Kira. Which is odd because they never really had any kind of relationship. The last time I was driven to . . .

High On the City

It was a talking water fountain. My first. And she was telling me how happy she was that I had spent the afternoon walking the Highline. The entire time I stood there washing my money under the cool, flowing New York City water, she continued to thank me for playing in the above ground park. . . .