Tess Rosen Writes

I often rely on the written word to pump the brakes in my anxious OCD mind (see previous post). With frequently overlapping thoughts racing around like motorcycles in a globe of death , writing forces me to pluck out one idea at a time and examine it intimately. To pull the motorcyclists aside and say, "Listen, this is clearly an insane career choice... is this really what you want to do with your life?" It's not difficult to understand why writing is commonly used as a therapeutic technique, and why we often feel a profound emotional release when we express ourselves on paper. No one can write as fast as they think, which is particularly true for anyone with an anxiety disorder. Writing forces me to stop the entire stunt show, bring the house lights up, and get real with the motorcyclists zooming around the rickety cage (usually accompanied by heavy metal and extravagant pyrotechnics). It has been a reliable outlet for me since I was a kid, and my mental health has undou...

Happy New Year, readers! First and foremost, I want to thank anyone who laid eyes on any of my blog posts in 2023. Regardless of how consistently I post or how many people end up reading my work, I feel truly honored if my words reach even one person. I'm beside myself to share that, last year, a couple of my posts reached hundreds. What an incredible blessing.  As much as I love writing and the journey to becoming a published writer, it can admittedly be isolating at times. I'm still in the infancy stage of my novel, and I only feel inspired to share my poetry every so often. Sometimes it feels like I'm writing into a void, but I find great comfort in knowing that someone has connected with my writing here or elsewhere. So, if you're reading this post, know that I genuinely appreciate you stopping by.  I'm here today to share another writing process update. It's been a minute, and my process has spun out (in a good way) a little bit recently. Lately, when I...

     The world is a bit of a dumpster fire right now (see last two posts). Nonetheless, amidst all of the burning garbage, my book still needs to be written. Unless one of you wants to write it and give me credit (jk... unless...). I will, of course, continue to share other pieces I write as they come to my heart and mind, but right now I'm focusing on outlining my novel. It's productive and  a welcomed distraction!  As I shared when I started this blog, I want to keep a diary of my writing process, so here's what I've been up to aside from writing emotional poetic prose pieces about antisemitism.      This summer, I decided I would warm up my writing muscles before digging into the novel journey by trying out some techniques on a short story. With this warm-up story, my goal was to practice writing in the same genre as my novel, incorporating multiple perspectives, developing characters, and finding my voice. It was also incredibly valuable in te...

Last week at religious school…  Two seventh grade boys asked if we could take a moment or two  to talk about something that happened at their school that afternoon. Of course. They shared that someone carved a swastika into a bathroom stall – so large that they have to replace the entire wall. I asked them how they felt.  They both muttered, “Really scared.” All I could say was, “That’s fair. I’m so sorry, that’s so awful, and I’m so glad you shared.” And they nodded.  And I nodded. And the rest of the class nodded. Sharing an impromptu moment of silence in a way. We acutely understood each other’s heartache that day; every one of us clearly hearing all the words we didn’t say.  We just needed to feel with each other for a little bit.  To share the pain. To honor it. Then, moments later, they were all back to being seventh graders.  Talking over each other, sitting in inventive positions in their chairs, tossing around fidget toys.  Someone is sud...

Since October 7th, I've been having trouble putting my feelings into words. To be clear, this has never been my problem. In fact, my struggle is usually quite the opposite; I can't shut up about how I'm feeling. Now, in the wake of true horror, the "right" words just won't come.  There is a great deal I'd like to express in regards to this issue, but acknowledging the power of social media is most prevalent for me at the moment. As an emotionally intelligent adult, I know it shouldn't matter. As a millenial, I know how much it does. I've sat down to write this post several times, and each time I back out of the draft and start again. How can I encapsulate what I'm feeling without putting a target on my back? Even if only one person reads this post, one vengeful person is all it takes to put my community at risk. When I recognize that the full scope of my words may be too much for whatever reason, I typically pull back and turn inward. I turn to...

Wrapping up the school year is always emotionally exhausting for everyone involved, but the added pressure of leaving the coworkers and students that I love so much made completing my last year of teaching particularly trying. Many hugs were had, tears were shed, and heartfelt words were exchanged. I spent two straight weeks crying on and off (in and out of the classroom) and taking in every moment I could with the career I had worked so hard to build before setting it aside to chase a dream. I was grateful when summer officially started and I could relax and recover for a few weeks before jumping into my writing. I'm confident that leaving teaching was the best choice for me in this phase of life, but those close to me also know how much I'll miss the parts of the job that kept me going for six years. Hence, the aforementioned emotional departure. All summer long, those same people have been asking me, "How do you think you'll feel when everyone starts going back to s...