WRITER

Laura Rink
writingsBlog
ABOUT

Laura

In 2021, I graduated with an MFA degree in Creative Writing from the Rainier Writing Workshop, a three-year low-residency MFA program at Pacific Lutheran University in Tacoma, Washington. In that program, I completed two manuscripts tied to my exploration into how my grandmother and her two sisters survived the Armenian Genocide. My critical paper explores how authors write into silence, the private silence of untold stories and the public silence of suppressed stories. In my creative thesis, a family memoir, photographs, primary documents, and historical fact intersect with memories and speculation to create a personal story within the larger public archive.

WORK IN PROGRESS

Matilda’s Silence: The Search For My Armenian Family’s Story

My grandmother Matilda Haigazn survived the Armenian Genocide of 1915-1923, which took one and a half million Armenian lives, men, women, and children. Matilda rarely spoke of her experiences and the family she left behind in Turkey. Not knowing what happened has always haunted me. This manuscript is my investigative journey to find my extended family and their story, including the historical context in which their lives took place.

Blog

CELL PHONES AND THEIR ILK

CELL PHONES AND THEIR ILK

For over ten years, I had a Nokia cell phone, a standard one piece, no flip, no slide, no touchscreen—a basic cell phone. I used it to make calls, and to receive calls. This phone fulfilled its purpose. When my children entered high school, I was pleased that my basic...

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A CHRISTMAS PAST

A CHRISTMAS PAST

What sticks in a child’s mind and survives into adulthood? What joy? What fear? What anger? Forty-five years ago, my mom’s extended family rented a large cabin in Big Bear for Christmas. There must have been at least twenty of us, pretty chaotic. It was the first...

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I WRITE! PART 1

I WRITE! PART 1

Every time I start to write a new piece­—a story, a novel, a blog post—I get a sinking feeling in my gut, my chest constricts and a sigh slips through my lips. The glorious piece of writing floating in my mind sprawls on the page like a pig wallowing in the mud. A big...

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