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A MFA creative writing student & freelance content writer. A mom to one cat, two teenage boys & numerous plants. www.elliejacobson.com

The words I wish I could say to her face to face

Photo by Stefan Gogov on Unsplash

Dear Mom,

Since the day you left this world, I have whispered, journaled, and prayed these words to you. I now send these words out into the universe.

My Words

Please tell me you’re okay. Tell me you’re at peace wherever you are. Where are you? I can’t do this without you.

You were my best friend, my protector, my confidant. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better daughter.

Since I can remember, you told me stories about grandma. I barely knew the “real” her, before she was in a nursing home for nearly a decade.

Whenever we would hear a mourning dove coo in…


The winning combination of 23 articles with increased followers found in a supportive writing community

Photo by Chad Greiter on Unsplash

Stairs: a series of steps or flights of steps for passing from one level to another — defined by Merriam-Webster

When I was young, my grandma and I were on an escalator at the mall. I don’t quite remember what caused us to fall down the escalator. I just remember the sensation of falling down and deciding then I would never step foot on an escalator again. Of course, I did when I was older, but for many years I refused. I was scared. Fear held me back.

This challenge forced me out of my comfort zone to get past…


A writer, one part content blended with one part creative

A photo of the author, Ellie Jacobson
A photo of the author, Ellie Jacobson
Photo by the author

My name is Ellie Jacobson, which you probably gathered by the article title. I’m also part Irish so excuse my sarcasm.

My life

I grew up in the ’70s and the ’80s (the best time I tell ya!). I was born and raised by the most wonderful (not sarcasm) Mom with red hair on the East Side of St. Paul in Minnesota. She was the youngest of 10 so my life was filled with uncles, aunts, and endless cousins (some I haven’t met yet sadly).

When I was 20, I attended St. Catherine University where I changed my major about four times…


Celebrating the transition from surviving to thriving as a family

View from the inside of a vehicle. Thankful for Time Away by Ellie Jacobson
View from the inside of a vehicle. Thankful for Time Away by Ellie Jacobson
Photo by Beth Easton from Pexels

“Vacation is the action of leaving something one previously occupied. “

— Oxford Languages

It has been three years since my family went on a vacation. I had to go through my photos to verify it’s been that long because that seemed wrong. No wonder we have been on each other’s last nerves lately.

I thought back over the last few years. Covid overshadowed my medical issues the previous year. In 2019, I started experiencing vertigo, where I couldn’t move my head without the room spinning upside down. I was afraid to drive.

After being tested over and over for…


How freewriting and time away aided in my writing dilemma

Lightbulb, making a decisions about which book to write by Ellie Jacobson
Lightbulb, making a decisions about which book to write by Ellie Jacobson
Photo by Ameen Fahmy on Unsplash

In one of my Novel Journey posts, “Two Book Ideas: Decisions, Decisions,” I shared my conflict about deciding between two novel ideas and which one I should write first. I received excellent feedback from Louise Foerster. Go with what excites you the most. Go with the book idea you can’t stop thinking about. So I’ve decided to go with my original book idea.

I made this decision during a recent four-day vacation with my family. I always carry a notebook wherever I go (plus jogging down ideas on my cellphone) and Lanie, my book one idea protagonist, would not let…


Is it really a dream or a nightmare

A piece of paper with the word Dream on it. My Dream Job, a short story by Ellie Jacobson
A piece of paper with the word Dream on it. My Dream Job, a short story by Ellie Jacobson
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

I collect their dreams as they sleep. It is my dream job. I swear, it doesn’t hurt. At least, I don’t think it does. They don’t scream or cry. A state of oblivion surrounds them. When they wake, they wonder why they can’t remember their dreams.

How many dreams can one person have? It’s my right to take a few, to live again through their forgotten dreams. I enjoy knowing they created the dream and I get to live it.

Some nights I collect a nightmare. It’s not by accident. I need to feel their pain, not just their hopes.

Ellie Jacobson

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