HeyJaredSilver and Sovereign with Rosie Pryor
These field notes are permission slips for women who are done outsourcing their okayness and who are ready to lead, create, and live unapologetically.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 4
- Latest publication
- Sep 20, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 4, 2026
Latest issues
A Trip To The Thrift Store (opens the original)
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Start a new page with your favorite writing implement and this prompt. Today my _____ was ______. OR just Today _________.Fill in the blanks, but don’t hold them too sacred. Be honest even if it’s not cute. Keep going until you’ve squeezed it all out. Smile easy when you look down at your work. Drink. Pulp included. Thank you to Nathaniel for gifting our writing group with this prompt last week. Its simplicity struck something open in me.Saturday, Sept 18Today I took my time. Today the moon is a
Aging and Anxiety (opens the original)
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I didn’t want to have to tell you this. I’m supposed to be better. I’m supposed to have more figured out. Yet here I am. Everything I thought I knew is hot pink sand sifting through my hands. I try to tighten, lock the space between my fingers. Make it stop. I can’t. There is this OCD thing I do that involves “checking.” I open my photos and look through the past 2 summers of my face being tan. I zoom into my forehead and cheeks, looking for signs of my current hyperpigmentation. Inspecting for
When The Flowers Speak (opens the original)
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She told me she was purple. I didn’t know whether that meant in the afterlife or the parallel universe or the color of her soul or the hues she’d illuminate in this world to let me know she’s ok in the next. I only know my purple sensor is alight and set to “input.” The morning of July 5 was an itchy restless. I felt unsettled in the apartment. I was thinking of her, and the last morning she sat with me while I wrote my Morning Pages. I accidentally saw some of her black hair in the place she us
The Man With An Unexpected Gift (opens the original)
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You never know what golden threads will be tied to a tragedy. I didn’t want to leave her side even for a second that day. I had a massage scheduled that afternoon, but something told me not to cancel. I drove the whole way without music. Every song was about missing or losing or loving someone. Wind, sun through the moonroof, all that could be tolerated. I was 15 minutes late by the time I parked. He knew I’d had a call that held me up. I burst into the dark room at the end of the corridor. He w
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