It’s A New Car!
I’m hungry. Semi-tired. And doing an abysmally poor job of convincing Dave that we need a brand-new car. Perhaps I’m actually just procrastinating writing.…
A Moth at the Window
I write to get ahead of my thinking. Thinking tricks me. It reverse-engineers what’s true. It’s the white-van man with oversized lollipops saying, Come…
Noticeably Unnoticeable
I’m in my head, eking through thoughts about what to write. A welcome guest kneels beside me, pointing out page after page of warblers…
To My Loyal Listeners
Damn, I’m inspired. An author like Stephen Graham Jones doesn’t cross my eyes every day, and because he did, I want to write like…
The Sweet Potato Pendulum
It’s late. Close to bedtime. And my stomach is growling. One might think inserting food is the answer, but it’s not. Instead, I’m scrolling…
New Hunger Awakening
For hours now, I’ve had most of a rotisserie chicken lightly boiling over the gas stove. I’ve added two saucepans full of water during…
When Things Fall Into Place
Inspiration floods in like an atmospheric river in the Pacific Northwest. Never heard of an atmospheric river? Me either. But once you hear the…
A Mouth Watering Post
I’ve moved the yoga mat, the balance ball, and push-up grips into the bedroom. Oh—and a 6’ tall, 4’ wide mirror. I’d described the…
Onward Forward
We’re onto 2026. I’m ready! Buckle up. Love Jaclynn
Better Late Than Never
It’s 3am on the day before the new year. The cross country flight home went well, and now I need sleep. See you tomorrow!
“Feminist,” As An Accusation
“You’re a feminist.” The text from my cousin landed with a thud—damning, like a shameful Scarlet Letter pinned to my chest. I knew she…
A Quiet Tyranny: Meditating on Dostoevsky’s Work
It’s nearing the year’s end, and my mind is a blizzard of ideas and hopes for the new year. I flirted with the idea…
Over the River
Up to the snow and out with friends. What a lucky girl I am! Love, Jaclynn
Inhabiting Ourselves: Kierkegaard’s Philosophy
As I’ve done for the past four days, I googled Søren Kierkegaard’s philosophy. He writes: “Of all ridiculous things, the most ridiculous seems to…
Sticking with Kierkegaard
Philosophical questions—and sitting with their meaning—are a priority for me as I look toward 2026. Regardless of a philosopher’s religious or ethical beliefs differing…
A Walk in the Woods
I pick up my phone. It’s already set to take a photo. I half-watch the scene I want to capture come into view and…
Noodling on the New Year
Around the corner is 2026, and with it the familiar knock of resolutions—polite at first, then increasingly insistent. They ask what you will fix,…
Wild Hearts Can’t Be Broken
At times, I don’t recognize myself. Not physically—the face staring back in the mirror is mine—but emotionally. I feel like a bullheaded donkey, pulling…
Meeting Your Eye
You don’t know what you want from me. Writing authentically means I don’t care about you. But I care about you. Isn’t that a…
Santa Boat 2025
Unbelievably fun night with family and friends. Love, Jaclynn
I Tried
“You’re going to bed?” Dave said, moments after I stood and announced a general goodnight to the room. “Before your daughter?” he added, incredulously.…
Rrrrrr Matey
I’m too tired to write. Today was a long, lovely blur of jigsaw-puzzling Santa Claus and kitty cats, visiting my friend Kristen, dressing and…
Understanding Can Wait
I met Jakob. He’s a big, bad troll with endearingly prominent toes and fingernails, caught mid-lounging, casually gripping the two trees that flank him…
The Airport Roll of Shame
I monitor the pitch-and-roll gauge on the seatback screen in front of me. I’m impressed with Delta’s “command center” data screen—specifically the 510–530 mph…
When the Number Isn’t 100%
All my devices—Kindle, phone, laptop, headphones, iPad, and iPad stencil—are at maximum battery capacity. Their chargers are neatly coiled in a billfold-sized makeup purse.…
A Quiet Kind of Care
Years ago, I wrote a letter to myself from my future self. It’s handwritten and folded up to the size of a notecard. I…
Pretend I’m the Best
It’s December 13th. As Santa does last minute check and balance of the naughty and nice list and stuffs Donner and Blitzen with nutrient…
The Spirit Within: A Poem-like Waxing
My holiday spirit waxes and wanes, day to day, moment to moment — the tide comes in, then slips back out. I ride it…
Sticky As Hell
I mimic other writers’ styles. I take a mini-challenge to the page, their a caricature propped on my shoulder, and I ask, What would…
A Masterful Woman
I had a cool story to share, but I forgot it somewhere between driving three laps through a festive country-home yard’s Christmas lights, reminding…
Internal Weather Patterns
This morning’s session was about a line—a boundary between when something genuinely needs addressing and when we’re slipping into unnecessary drama. We separated thoughts…
Gentle Sweeps: DIYing Advice
According to the DIY article, ironing on the banding edging was the most tedious step when building an over-ornament coffee table. However, the change…
That Dern Ol’ Cabin
How hard it is to sit and be quiet for even a moment. Evelyn doesn’t know where to put a toy, Dave’s asking what…
An Unreasonable Person
I’m rooting for Georgia in the SEC Championship football game. I don’t feel bad about it either. UW has always been my college team…
Writing the Sweet Stuff
Not always, but authenticity is frequently the most important bullseye to me when writing. However, instead of target shooting out back for fun, I’m…
A Christmas Miracle
Ding dong. The doorbell rang. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so it was a pleasant surprise to see the gentleman who left his wood splitter…
Smooth As A Baby’s Bottom
Inside me, it’s pre-boiling time. Small bubbles form, and a beehive of activity buzzes. Anticipation. Of returning home. Home that feels like a well-worn…
Bananas Gone Wild
Life is often boring. So boring that our casual greetings, instead of “good” or “fine,” become “same ol’ same ol’” and “same shit, different…
Forgiveness: The Plate I Want to Throw
I cannot wrap my head around forgiveness—it’s the letting-go, non-attachment, monk-in-lotus-position vibe that makes my brain back up like a men’s toilet on Super…
Prisoner of the Past
Last night, I got stuck because my thoughts have trap doors. And I’m fairly certain I’m not the only one who barely escapes their…
Social Media Shakeup
Should I stop—wait, not should, but when should I stop social media? Yesterday? Back when Myspace came out, twenty years ago. More and more…
The Truest Love: A Poem
We have a love like that—the kind from movies,from the ages. It’s me at my lowestand you’re there. It’s two people fighting for a…
Loving What It Is
Deciding what to focus on is half the battle. Social events Stretch-Armstrong me. I should be at the dining table with everyone. I should…
Dear Journal,
I’m 43. That number seems big, small, and just right. I’m in pajama bottoms at 4 p.m. on a Wednesday. That has a ring…
Gonna Make You Sweat
You’ve walked in on me mid-conversation with myself. If you don’t mind, take a seat—I’ll be right with you. Why is it that earlier,…
A Comfort-Obsessed Society
Efficiency is the operating premise for the virus in the show Pluribus we’re watching on Apple TV. It’s fascinating to see how their all-in-one…
Regulars at Inner AA
All the different parts of me—Perfectionist, Competitive, Obsessive, Paranoid—show up like regulars bursting through the glass doors, late for the 7:00 AA meeting. They…
Reading the Room
Seated in Woodland Coffee Roasters and Café, the chill of the air conditioning has Evelyn huddled against her dad while they stand in line…
Simply Spinning Globes
Frank Sinatra, Journey, and CCR’s Cosmo’s Factory vinyl records took a spin mid-morning today. I must have the earth on the brain. With Evelyn…
Domestic Olympics
With 45 minutes left until my noon session, I talk aloud to myself. “Ok, if we take ten minutes on each room—kitchen, living, dining—we’ll…
Unremarkable Presents
I’m wondering if the Remarkable 2 digital notepad is the perfect Christmas gift for me. Plusses: it would be my all-in-one writing spot, basically…
Doggedly In My Own Corner
That last one—the relationship with myself—matters the most. And it’s my ambiguity about how to do that that leaves me susceptible to disconnection. “I’m…
Under the Weather
There’s pressure behind my eyes. Heavy, pulsing on either side of my eyebrows. This sickness hit me from behind—midnight bedtime: healthy. One hour later:…
Autopsy of the Self (Book Part 37)
Previous I knew I would not allow it to happen again. With just the right internal key, something in me had finally Rubik’s-cubed itself…
Sabattical
I baked a three-tiered confetti cake from scratch for Evelyn’s family birthday party tomorrow. And because I’m the chef and lick everything, I know…
The Need For Love
I’ve become too much like a stenographer in my writing. I bore myself. “I did X,” I write Y. In math lingo, it’s as…
Setting the Stage: A Poem
The slip of a toe from the pedal, the momentum lost—bodies pushed forward, then backward into their padded rests. It’s this ebb and flow,…
Overcooked Parenting
Evelyn took the video game controller out of my hands and replaced it with her own.“We’re swapping, that way you can’t yell at me…
Freezing Burglar Tracks
Last Week Tonight with John Oliver’s opening credits are running in the background—or maybe it’s this writing that will get buried behind the excitement…
Unbearable Heaviness
In 1998, if you’d told me I’d point my phone’s camera at the TV to “log in,” I would’ve asked if you also had…
The Gentle Leash of Love
With a purple, tear-shaped pick pinched between my thumb and the outer middle knuckle of my pointer finger, I strum. My shoulder and arm…
We Be Jammin’
Moving an image, video, or text an inch to the left, right, up, or down—repeated a thousand times—is the biggest time suck, and I…
Tears On My Pillow
A heart-pounding headache and a little Love Is Blind have kept me from writing.Actually, I have kept me from writing. I thought if I…
Space Jammin’ Season
It’s settled. Instead of plopping my butt down and filling cupped hands to the brim with acorn clusters, I’m buying a—wait. I watched a…
The Sweetness of Not Knowing Better
I thrust my hand into my pocket—into my cheetah-print, thick and soft sweater with large hanging front pockets like Grandpa’s robe. It felt like…
Seeing Saturn Clearly
Unfortunately, I cared about being cool. Calvin Klein and Doc Martens swaggered their denims and waffle-shaped soles across the maroon-and-yellow-speckled floors of my high…
Shattering A Illusion (Book Part 36)
Previous I’m often assaulted by my own physiology. The external world is my puppet master — its thick, hairy hand pulling at my strings…
Falling Into Fall
Anna, Lori, Melissa, and I met at noon at Fogata’s Street Tacos for book club. Since I’d chosen The Godfather, I also got to…
Bunkering For Fall
I’m picking up my crystal ball, looking at a past moment, and my body’s showing the score. A quickness in my chest, the image…
Supernatural Design
When there’s no one else around, I perform supernatural acts. Never when they’re watching—always right after their head turns. Earlier, I tipped the mustard…
Hulk Hoganing Mayonnaise
It happened. I lost my Enter key. For months, it hung on by a teensy hinge that, multiple times a day, I had to…
Realizing the Real
In noticing countries confused with cities and cities confused with America, I knew it was time to step in and help Evelyn with geography.…
Starter Underwold
I’m as close to being a drug dealer as I’ve ever been. At approximately 8:03 p.m. EST, headlights flooded the driveway, and I handed…
Stroke By Stroke
My second favorite plant is peeking over the top of my laptop. Two leaves of a mustard green with white-gray spots tremble as I…
Macaroni-Sized Frog Droppings
Standing in front of our paused 65-inch TV, I begin painting a scene for two little girls having a sleepover. The portrait features a…
Parents Do Cry
I analyze my writing chops and determine they’re good. Maybe too good, I think, quickly scanning the first few sentences of Reedsy’s past contest…
Before the Habit, There’s an Identity
I’ve read Atomic Habits twice—once in English and once in Spanish. I love it. The author’s ability to break habits (wanted or unwanted) into…
The Entry Point
This is the second part to my writing contest entry. If you didn’t read yesterday’s post, start there. Thanks! There’s a sauna-like breath painting…
It Could Just Be The Wind
At the tail end of my to-do someday list is to enter writing contests. Not today, and likely not tomorrow, but someday. The monthly…
The Spell Caster’s Final Dance
To squeak open that door again, I pull back. It’s cool, and iron routed in a bow-like curvature—too impressive, too stately for a lowly…
Staying in the Game
The Mariners are one game away from the World Series. And here we are in the second inning: Logan Gilbert is shaky, the infield…
The Space Between Being Seen and Feeling Selfish
I met Paul in graduate school when he was overworked and burned out at Microsoft. Now, years after his retirement, he’s flown to New…
The Ride to You
Thieves and vandals don’t exist in Middle Georgia. On the corner of N. Dugger Avenue and W. Cruselle Street sits Bob’s, its sign printed…
Focusing Expectations
The binoculars—double the size of a normal pair—sit lying on the entryway bench. Brought outside yesterday after a “Is that a deer?” moment with…
The Windshield and the Bug
I don’t like my writing tonight. It feels stale, like I’ve said the same thing too many times. I can feel myself pressing down…
Directing It Just So
Negotiating which pot to transplant the Dieffenbachia cutting into was taking too long, so Paula and I abandoned it and headed inside to help…
A Little Bit of Monica
I couldn’t help myself—the rote “The client …” fumbled off my fingers without thought. Those therapeutic progress notes must be subconsciously tapping me on…
The Ride I’m On
We’re on a three-lane highway—Dave driving, Evelyn racing cars on her tablet, and me in the passenger seat. An army-green Corvette, followed by a…
Calling it In
There once was a man from Nantucket. Just kidding, there wasn’t. I’m calling it an early one, so I’ll see you tomorrow. Love, Jaclynn
A Memory Made Sky
I send my mind on a sabbatical, open its bank, and browse the files. I pick up this one every few months—it’s of a…
Except This
In my back pocket, I have a ripcord—a one-way pass to dialing it in. To slack, to slap hands and say, “Bruh,” before dropping…
All Out, All the Time
I’m seated on the couch, pace the kitchen, take cups of water to Evelyn and her friend at the swingset, and grind beans for…
The Pleaser’s Rebellion: Writing with Vigor
Taking it easy on the page—like coasting in the final thirty feet of a roller coaster track—when writing is no longer a behavior I…
The Web of Belongingness
From my front porch coffee spot, I can hear more than see the construction workers’ antics over at Keith’s. A scream resembling Tarzan’s call…
A Mediocre Life
Is that the same lady with a baby caught on camera at the Mariners’ game last night? I ask myself this about the woman…
Finding the Sweet Spot
“Why do you have to write?” Evelyn asks, trying to understand what punishment might befall me if I don’t. For her, “have to” means…
Our Eight-Legged Roomie
I dug up a four-inch high sassafras plant from the edge of our yard. Anyone with the app Seek can basically be a botanist,…
Concrete Calm
I’m reaching a deeper sense of peace. It’s like slipping farther beneath the surface of water—colder, darker, a chill wrapping around you. There’s a…
Community Theatre Obsesser
“Just not front and center” — that was Dave’s only request about his seat for the upcoming Addams Family show. We’d already been charmed…
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Going On 40 