William Torrey

William Torrey lives and works in Baton Rouge. His writing has appeared or is forthcoming in The Florida Review, The North American Review, Washington Square Review, Colorado Review, the Hawai'i Review, New Madrid and Zone 3, where his story "Trabajar" won the 2011 Editors' Prize. He is currently at work on a novel. @wshametorrey | wstorrey@gmail.com.
The Weather

Honest and Unbiased: Buffington’s

Buffington’s Milledgeville, GA 3 Stars Milledgeville’s not famous for its bar scene. When it comes to nightlife, you’ve got Hancock Street and Wayne Street, which is a cross street of Hancock Street. If you’re an undergrad…

Memoir

Shooting Pains

I never wanted to be anything, really. I grew up in front of the TV, made decent grades and got into college—all without ever giving my life a moment of consideration. While friends went on about…

Memoir

The Chaos of Truth

Not long ago, a friend emailed me a photograph. In it, I stand alone on a balcony. I wear a dress shirt and a borrowed tie, and the mustache I’d shaved a few weeks prior is…

Song of the Adjunct

Boundaries

At the end of my last year in grad school, I received a Friday e-mail from a student who I’ll here call Sharon. Sharon had wheat-brown hair, tan skin and the flawless, almost porcelain face of…

The Weather

End of Camp

I never went to summer camp as a kid—never really even considered it. I grew up the only child of a single mother, and by the time I was eight, all of my grandparents had died.…

Song of the Adjunct

The Promise of Safety

I moved to New Orleans in the fall of 2010, more than a year before the national headlines began to proclaim it our country’s most violent city. And yet, from the moment I arrived—never mind that…

The Weather

Alone Together

In the five years I’ve been writing seriously, the only thing I’ve learned for sure is that writing seriously is perhaps the world’s most lonesome task. I’ve written on Wal-Mart desks in old apartments and on…

Song of the Adjunct

The Rules

Every time tourists arrive for a visit to New Orleans, their questions are the same. Awash in the cold neon of some soulless titty bar on Bourbon, their fingers clasped about Hand Grenades or Huge-Ass Beers,…

Song of the Adjunct

Excuses

Mine is a world of endless excuses. Every due date, every end of semester, every time another do-nothing kid who’s five over the four-absence limit swings by my office to tell me all about his hardships—the…

Song of the Adjunct

Panic Attack

Because mine is a commuter school, I’ve come to expect a fair amount of tardiness. Many of my students live more than an hour from New Orleans. They drive in from towns called Geismar and Westwego…

Song of the Adjunct

Homecoming

I spent most of December in my hometown of San Antonio, TX, my first trip back since July. This marked my ninth Christmas since high school, and more than ever, I was struck by how strange…