HeyJaredWriting Elizabeth
A writer and solo mom’s messy take on writing full-time and raising teens after my daughter’s years in leukemia treatment. Challenging polished survival stories, exploring the raw reality of getting through, and building a writing career along the way.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 4
- Latest publication
- Aug 13, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 11, 2026
Latest issues
Staying Hot 4 Failure (opens the original)
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I’m fortunate to be part of a weekly accountability group in which we are endlessly hot for rejections, and so this, of course, is for them.A few weeks ago, on my way home from seeing one of my best friends in Vermont, I stopped to visit my friend Abby in Upstate New York. “How are you?” she asked as I settled onto her couch. Her dog Olive stretched, front paws going out in front of her splayed and perfect, then laid on her side in the sun.“Ahaha.” I laughed. I was good. Fine! Terrified. “Well…”
Memento Mori (opens the original)
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For Rae, for the matcha lemonade conversation yesterday.What I remember most from the months of my pregnancy with Jack is learning all the ways I would inevitably fail my child. Safety protocols outlined every hazard in my home and outside it, and every parenting book and class was a crash-course in all the ways it would be up to me to protect my kids from a world that was bound and determined to kill them. From the outset, our biological instinct and the messaging we’re delivered is: at all cos
Creative Risks Are A Collective Good (opens the original)
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This post was scheduled to go out next week, but I’m in Vermont visiting family and friends, many of whom are writers and educators. Our conversations have centered around creativity and AI and how we’re all adapting (or revolting against) this changing world, and it felt like the right time to hit post. This one’s for you, G.When The Sheep Detectives released in theaters, I went to see it thrice in one month. I became the movie’s unofficial evangelist: I bought bulk tickets for showings at my l
Hot Girls Write At Tire City (opens the original)
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Ten days ago, I blew a tire. It was only the third flat of my life, and by far the least dramatic— one minute I was driving, thinking about Jack’s permit test, and the next there was a low rumble, a stutter in the wheel. I eased onto the shoulder, and Jack swapped the flat for the donut, delighted with himself. Then I dropped him home, grabbed my laptop, and, with many complaining voice notes to friends, drove over to my favorite tire center.Tire City sits on a fenced lot just off the highway ou
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