Author Archives: Jaclynn Loibl

Joey and I read a chapter from Ursula LeGuin’s “Steering the Craft” each week. Like me, Joey’s into writer’s books on writing, and this week’s chapter on adverbs and adjectives had us independently underlining the phrase “take responsibility” from Chapter 5. I’m taking the advice a step further and writing it on a stickie, andContinue reading “Leave it to the Bees”

Three times during a counseling session with Veronica, let’s call her Veronica, I asked, “Hurtful or helpful?” Each time, she whispered “Hurtful” about the thoughts she was having, and each admission felt like a guilty plea, a confession to a jury. I’m not the executioner—she is. Her abandonment, betrayal, and self-deception she’s having internally areContinue reading “Hurtful or Helpful”

I’m not one hundred percent sure who just drove past and honked. The small truck with two passengers was hauling a lawn mower on a trailer, moving too fast for me to catch a face. I’m at one of my new favorite spots: the eight-foot-wide (give or take) entrance at the top of the stairsContinue reading “Music Mayhem”

I will finish unpacking tomorrow. Repeat it with me: I will finish unpacking tomorrow.  Love, Jaclynn

Pushing myself to speak to the painter at the house in Spanish, I asked, “¿Qué color o tenir es esto?” Later, Evelyn asked, “Did you speak Spanish? Why?” I explained that I love putting puzzles together and challenging my brain to do new things. Like how the subjunctive tense in Spanish is a real brainContinue reading “Funky Fresh Circles”

Our water smells like rust, and the taste is like putting a bleeding thumb in your mouth. I’ve heard it’s high in iron, and from years of visiting my Grandma’s cabin in Eastern Washington, I remember the brownish-red stains the water left on the white shower, toilet, and sinks. Eventually, we’ll call DJ’s Pump ServiceContinue reading “Settling Sand”

Sam’s Club is the first stop on my agenda when my peepers pop open. Not the chickens I don’t have, but my actual eyes, of course. With an empty fridge humming along, it’s clear what needs to happen next: food! It’s been a whole month since I’ve cooked a meal. Scratch that—I did whip upContinue reading “The Mantle’s Mounted”

I keep my hands in the sand, spilling it out like the grains of an hourglass. I loved you—the one I created from a smoky figure of mist. Is it through this door that I’ll find the ghost of what remains? The unedited you, the one I fell over the edge, then sought and foughtContinue reading “We’ll Do It Again”