Creative Nonfiction
Smoking Guns
River Teeth, Fall 2023
Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine, Nov 2023
To Eat a Fig
SWING, Fall 2023
Her Thin Summer Top
The Examined Life: The Literary Journal of the University of Iowa Carver College of Medicine, July 2023
Sweet: A Literary Confection, March 2023
Losing Flesh
Under the Gum Tree, Fall 2022
Minerva Rising: The Keeping Room, Oct 2021
Drunk Monkeys, Sept 2022
“Honesty and Bravery in Creative Nonfiction Workshop Commentary,” Brevity’s
Nonfiction Blog, February 21, 2022,
https://brevity.wordpress.com/2022/02/21/workshop- commentary/.
“By the Neck,” Bellevue Literary Review, Issue 39, Fall 2020, pp. 140-143,
https://blreview.org/nonfiction/by-the-neck/.
“Finishing the Breast (Or, Four Bras a Year).” Fourth Genre, vol. 22, no. 2, Fall 2020,
pp. 71- 76.
“Just as I Am.” The Boom Project: Voices of a Generation, edited by Kimberly Garts
Crum
and Bonnie Omer Johnson, Butler Books, 2019, pp. 282-287.
“Leaving Earth.” Please See Me, no. 2, 19 Sept. 2019, https://pleaseseeme.com/issue-
2/nonfiction/leaving-earth-laura-johnsrude/.
“Drawing Blood.” Bellevue Literary Review, vol. 18, no. 1. (Honorable Mention for Fel
Felice Buckvar Prize for Nonfiction), 2018, pp. 53-57,
https://blreview.org/nonfiction/drawing-blood/.
“Look at My Chest.” The Spectacle, no. 6, 2018, https://thespectacle.wustl.edu/?p=889.
3
“Wild Things.” Hippocampus, 1 Mar
2017,https://www.hippocampusmagazine.com/2017/03/wild-things-by-laura-b-
johnsrude/.
2024
In consideration
Intima’s “The Best American Essays Collection”
Beholding Something Fine
2023
Nominated
Pushcart Prize
Beholding Something Fine
2022
** Winner **
Sweet: A Literary Confection’s 2022 Creative Nonfiction Flash Essay contest
Brown Barrette in My Hair
“Brown Barrette in My Hair” is a wonderful memory piece, where the prose is filled with sensory details that evoke our own summers at the pool, evokes those moments of being and living and seeing and feeling. As the person we once were. That young person. That person who remembers how water drenches the skin and that summer haze of sunny days. Nostalgic, yes, but it is more than that. This essay recreates an intimate slice of a world so readers, too, can plunge right in, and when we surface the light is blinding.
-Ira Sukrungruang, Founding Editor
2018
Honorable Mention
Bellevue Literary Review’s Felice Buckvar Prize for Nonfiction
Drawing Blood