HeyJaredNapavore Magazine
Publishing short stories, essays, poetry, and interviews inspired by the Napa region—from the people who live and work here.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 4
- Latest publication
- Sep 27, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 12, 2026
Latest issues
Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire (opens the original)
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By Patrick W. LoomisAn excerpt from his forthcoming memoir, Napa, Growing Up. I was a chef in my former life. That’s what I tell people now. I used to say it as a joke, but now I realize it truly was a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, when I was young and strong, willing to march into battle for my chef twelve hours a day, every day, and endure painful tortures to my body, all for the sake of the plates. I still have the oven-rack burn scars on my arms and the calluses on my hands to pro
What's Next for Napavore Magazine (opens the original)
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Late last year, I decided to create an online magazine for Napa County-based writers. I wasn’t sure if anyone else would like the idea. Would anyone submit their writing or even read the magazine? It turns out, there are plenty of you who are interested in a publication that reflects the experience of people who live and work here. Seeing the response from writers and readers has been hugely gratifying.So far Napavore Magazine has published essays, poetry, Q&As, and even a short story. Starting
The House on Orchard Avenue (opens the original)
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By Sarah ScottIn 1984 my then-husband, Bill, and I moved into a cottage surrounded by vineyards out on Orchard Avenue. It was a coup to get this house, and we had only gotten it because we knew the people who had been living there, and they gave us a good reference. I would realize later just how rare it was to find a house like this in the Napa Valley. Everyone wanted to live in a cottage in a vineyard.When we moved in, I was working as a line cook at the St. George Restaurant in St. Helena and
You Can’t Go Home Again (opens the original)
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By Elayna TruckerThere is a splinter in my brain that seizes when I smell woodsmoke, when I see winds so strong they seem to threaten the stability of even the widest trees, when a flicker of flame catches my eye. I am no longer in Napa, but Napa remains in me, in the dark guttural places that defy description, whose words I worry with my tongue like a canker that will not heal, because, I suppose, I won’t let it. Napa is the thin, golden veneer over a rotted tooth, the thick layer of new, vibra
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