Jude Jones (they/them)

@authorjude.bsky.social

125 Followers 165 Following

Non-binary former academic, current creative writer. Newsletter “Everything is Temporary” at https://noneverything.substack.com Editor of forthcoming lit mag “Tiny Memoir” at https://tinymemoir.substack.com

I am allergic to my mother. This is a discovery I make in my late 20s,
Text that reads “I circled the coffee shop in search of a stranger's object worth writing about. Next to every customer I saw the same things: phone, computer, coffee. Headphones, charger, bag. Finally, something different: a fat notebook, in my imagination brimming with exciting words. The cover off-white with an intricate lilac flower pattern, I wanted so much to open it and read. I hoped it wasn't just an agenda full of boring to do lists. In my head, I filled it with a writer's dreams.” with the word “search” highlighted.
Text, superimposed on a photo of a book open to show defaced pages, reads as follows: "Bad mothering: permission to write. I'm reading Elissa Altman's Permission - a book that is both about memoir and a memoir in and of itself - and I feel bad defacing the book so much with my own writing, but it has me inspired and at least I'm writing pencil."
A picture of the Eiffel Tower with “Coming soon: Tiny Memoir” underneath
Sheep (s). When we moved to the UK, my English grades trailed behind my math grades as I tried to catch up my writing to native proficiency. I remember once being lauded for completing a big written project all by myself. “We know your parents didn’t help you”, the teacher said, because I’d written “sheeps” instead of “sheep”. I had to choose between pretending I thought “sheeps” was correct, and admitting a parent had helped me, after all. By: Jude Jones
Text that reads “I can spend all day doing seemingly nothing and still be completely exahusted by 9pm, or sometimes 6pm. I don't know which of my many diagnoses to blame - or which of my many medications to blame for this unwanted side effect. I do best when I have one thing I need to get done that day, and I focus all my energy towards not messing it up. For example, today was taking my kitten to the vet. I also managed to pick up an important medication from the pharmacy, write a short story as well as a micro-story, and get ice cream with my husband. Oh and I fed the cat and cleaned her litterbox, as I always do. And remembered to take my meds on time in the morning. So I guess I didn't do nothing today, after all I think I also submitted my new story to a journal or two. So it was really a perfectly well-rounded day, and yet. I didn't go for a walk. I didn't lie on my acupuncture mat. I didn't play with the cat properly just half-heartedly). I can add all sorts of things I didn't do. I suppose the list of things I didn't do is completely infinite by its very nature of needing to encapsulate every single I could have done today. I didn't set up my new medication device that will make my days easier once it's set up. But I did read a lot of interesting writing about chronic illness, accepting limitations, serious mental illness, and creativity. I supported other people's work online, felt in community with other writers, and held in my hand the magazine that contained my first piece of creative nonfiction. Refreshed my email far too many times looking for a response of some kind - even a rejection - from the other magazines.” with the word “side” highlighted.
Text that reads “But all my writing should then have a trigger warning, since I'm writing from the perspective of someone with - let's put it delicately - "mental health challenges", or persistent suicidal ideation, or terrible coping mechanisms that involve fantasizing about running away and disappearing.” with “challenges” highlighted.
Text that reads “Oh my goodness, have I forgotten how to write? I am stuck on this theme of race and yet I don't really want to write about it. Ooh. Maybe that's the feeling I need to lean in to”
Text that reads “doesn't it sound desperate that I'm still thinking about this decades later? Oh well, who cares. I can write them for the sake of writing them; no-one has to see.” with the word “desperate” highlighted
Text that reads “Our first night together did not go well. Even though she reassured me strenuously that she didn't mind snorers, in the middle of the night I found her rushing out of the room looking like a ghost with her sheet trailing behind her. I vaguely remember her coming back to grab her pillow, in what I perceived to be a furious manner, and me whispering "are you ok?", words that fell silently between us in the dark. "It wasn't you", she assured me vehemently in the morning. I just had nightmares...really bad nightmares...and felt safer sleeping under the camera in” with the word “whispering” highlighted.
A copy of the book “Notes to John” by Joan Didion held in a white hand against the backdrop of a sunny cafe with lounger chairs.
Text that reads: "The jokes in the show manage to be simultaneously conventional (e.g., hapless boyfriend doesn’t say the right thing to defend girlfriend’s honor) and academically amusing (same scene, different interpretation: nerdy boyfriend debates a very specific aspect of physics while totally oblivious that this is not the socially normative response, but really, we’re quite curious about the physics)."