Category Archives: Writings

Reading Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood stretches me as a writer. The nonfiction details—the facial scar that distorts a killer’s face like a mosaic mirror—shake me out of my comfort zone. The freedom to write exactly as one sees it, in a way that evokes images as sharply as bleu cheese tastes, is a fantasyContinue reading “Permission To Be Messy”

I got invited to a birthday party! This fruit of my labor is crisp and sweet—especially since there was no guarantee such an invite would ever come. You see, I want to belong. And when we moved to Georgia, it was important to me that, in addition to family, I’d develop my own friendships—ones thatContinue reading “I’ll Get You, My Pretty!”

Night off. See you tomorrow! Love, Jaclynn

Previous Large bay windows and prominently trimmed storefronts told me I’d entered a more communal part of the city. Then came the bars—one after another—many with bouncers out front. I turned right and found a parking spot tucked in the dark, just beyond the reach of a streetlamp. I stayed there for a moment, watchingContinue reading “Running From the Devil (Book Part 35)”

“Do parents have fun?” Evelyn asked during our five-minute bedtime check-in. Her rapid-fire questions ranged from wondering whether I thought she’d ever have kids (I don’t know), to the three things she wants most in life: to do all the things there are to do, to stay a kid “so I don’t have to payContinue reading “Have You Tried the Trunk?”

I feel like myself. More and more, the balloon of me expands—and I hope it continues to like the everness of the universe. Dave just offered me cold boiled peanuts. As a joke. Our friends bought the extra-large Styrofoam cup of them today at Dickey Farms—the same place we picked through the “rejected” peaches andContinue reading “From Impossible to Possible”

Tomorrow’s breakfast has expanded from making biscuits and gravy to eggs Benedict and sourdough pancakes. Oooh, we even have leftover homemade whipped cream in a glass Tupperware, locked and loaded for a sugary flapjack topping. I feel cluttered and can’t think clearly. I need to rattle the pennies out of my brain, a good old-fashionedContinue reading “Plant Lover’s Unite”

I make chores fun. Or—shall I say—tolerable? After scrubbing black char from the stove’s surface, wiping up espresso grounds, and slogging slimy bread and cereal bits toward the sink drain, I reach a point. A threshold. The kind that says, “Nay! No more!” like a bloodied warrior in the middle of a Medieval battle. Then,Continue reading “The Bonus Round”

I’m beyond help. Every turn is a dead end, and I’m screaming at the idiocracy, the tailspinning, the too-muchness I feel. I think what I need is space. I don’t watch the news, barely skim the headlines, and yet I still feel bombarded. At dinner, the crawl across the restaurant’s TV hooked me like aContinue reading “Unwinding the Shoulds”