Author Archives: Jaclynn Loibl

Here’s a writing exercise focused on capturing the nuances of something deeply familiar. I chose the first counseling session. This scenario reflects the blend of vulnerability, curiosity, and mutual discovery that sets the foundation for the therapeutic relationship. Below is a dialogue inspired by countless introductions. I adjust the chair slightly and place my just-filledContinue reading “The First Session: A Writing Exercise”

I’m not usually one for boxing, but is it a name like Mike Tyson, and is it free on Netflix? Count me in with the other 280 million viewers. I don’t claim expertise, but I managed to pick the first-round winner—less puffy, red, and more composed. Seems like a solid strategy. Round two was aContinue reading “Fight Night”

I show up to the page in many moods. My favorite is the dreamy, playful state where my mind feels free from life’s shackles and I fly. In that state, my broken wings have the strength of a thousand eagles, and on the page, I slice through turbulence with ease. It’s mine—every thrust, every dive,Continue reading “Broken Wing Flying”

I don’t want to write. I’m tired. I feel myself searching for something—a book, maybe, something lighthearted and inviting, something that might help me find my way again. I sense that the path I lost myself on is still here, waiting as if it’s calling, “Where are you?” Twenty-three people gathered to celebrate Evelyn’s fifthContinue reading “The Birth of November”

On my laptop screen, tabs stack up: The Blind Boys of Alabama, Smallwood Home print shop, Headway, and the document I keep open to write my blog. I started the morning watching Peter Gabriel’s 2002 live concert, where the rich, soulful sound of The Blind Boys of Alabama filled the air. Seeing their age onContinue reading “The Night Before Five”

I’m a messy human—and still, I’m worthy of love. These past two months have stretched me in medieval ways as if my mind were on some ancient torture rack. I’ve been caught in a cycle, thinking I’m making real progress, only to find myself right back on the hamster wheel, in the same place IContinue reading “Living a Double Life”

We’ve appointed a felon into office—one who has on video said it’s okay “to grab women by the pussy.” He is a disgusting pig of a man who has twice been given the most power in our country. The delusion and chaos in people’s minds are part of the problem, but so are the decadesContinue reading “Fuck Trump”

The past clings to me like a shadow, haunting me with whispers that chill my bones. I didn’t fully realize how close it was, how much it weighed on me, until shame’s darkness washed over me, and the tears streamed down my face. It felt like I was trapped in it—bearing the blame, like aContinue reading “Echoes to Then”

Shopping for eggs has its own charm out here in the country. I just head out across the pasture, near the family’s garden, and past the new apple, peach, and plum trees to a dilapidated and weathered round hay bale. That’s where the “Easter basket” sits, always full of surprises. The other day it heldContinue reading “Back to Boring”

This exercise was fun. There’s no action or characters, it’s simply describing a place or a space. Enjoy! It’s December. Frost clings to the glass, the contrast between inside and outside are as stark as night and day. Outside, things are brown, brittle, and fading; inside, it’s a small, green world holding onto life. WeContinue reading “Descriptive Prose: A Writing Exercise”