Month: July 2026

1000 Words

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I have a shelf full of writing craft books. 

The newest one to add to my collection is 1000 Words: A Writer’s Guide to Staying Creative, Focused, and Productive All Year Round by Jami Attenberg. 

1000 Words is a collection of short pieces, including “wisdom and inspiration from more than fifty beloved writers.” 

The title of the book comes from Ms. Attenberg’s annual summer event in which writers commit to writing 1000 words a day for two consecutive weeks. There is a whole online community that not only participates but also encourages and supports each other. 

Generally, I do not write 1000 words a day. (That’s about 4 typed, double-spaced pages.)  

Once in a blue moon, the words flow and my body cooperates long enough for me to write four pages in one sitting.

But not usually.

And certainly not this summer, with my world no longer as I knew it since my dad passed away.

Still, writing inspiration never hurts. Especially now when I haven’t written much more than these weekly blog posts and my columns for MomsLA.com . 

Here then are some of the passages that resonated with me:

“Four Truths: 1) We can’t finish what we don’t start.
2) The only way to the end is through.
3) It’s important to celebrate our accomplishments.
4) We must forgive ourselves for that which we have simply not done yet.”

“Your creative self is composed of your brain, your heart, and your time. To protect your creativity, you must tend to them all.”

“Respecting your creativity is respecting yourself.”

“So write the thing that you want to see in the world. You’re the only one who can.” 

“There is only one you, your voice is singular, and if you do not write these 1000 words no one will ever know what you have to say. You absolutely must have faith in yourself, that what you need to talk about is important, and that a reader will care about it.” 

“Above all, do not feel intimidated or discouraged. You have written before, and you will write again. You write because you love it and because it’s important to you and because you have something to say.” 

“Write what you can, when you can.
“Write when the urge strikes you, but also, be disciplined. Carve out time in your day to write. Fight for that time for yourself. You can find holes in your schedule. They exist. And soon enough you will fill them with words.” 

“… making art of any kind is an act of optimism. To make art is to traffic in beliefs. The belief that you have something to say, that it’s important to say it. And also the belief that someone specific might want to witness it in some way and gain something from it.”

“Whatever it is you’re working on, whatever it is you’re dreaming about, whatever path you’re trying to carve out for yourself, whatever electricity you’re trying to generate, whatever voice you’re trying to draw out of yourself, whatever way you’re trying to connect with people, whatever you’re trying to communicate with the world, whatever fire you are trying to start this morning today this week forever and ever, you can fucking do it.” 

Friends, have you read 1000 Words and/or have you participated in the 1000 Words Summer Challenge? I’d love to know.

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

On a Scale Of …

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
Image Credit: Streetlight Magazine

Back in May, I had shared the good news that my personal essay, “On a Scale Of…” had won first place in the 2026 Streetlight Essay/Memoir Contest. (In case you missed it, you can read that blog post here.)

This week, friends, I’m pleased to share Streetlight’s 2026 Summer Issue is now available online. And, included in the Summer Issue is my award-winning essay. 

Here’s an excerpt:

“I do not like that pain scale. I like it even less than I liked the 4, 3, 2, 1 grading scale.
“I think most people living with chronic pain feel the same way I do and regard that chart as an incomplete and inaccurate way to describe pain. That scale does not take into account the pain tolerance many chronic illness patients naturally develop over time. I have lived with regular pain for over a decade. I’m certain that to an extent I have grown numb to some minor pains, and I have grown more tolerant of other pains. I have to, if I’m going to get out of bed and do anything during the day.”

You can click here to read my essay in its entirety. 

Spoonie Friends, I’m curious. How do you handle the pain scale when you’re at one of your doctor’s appointments? Let me know in the comments. 

The Non-Rules for Writing When You Live with a Chronic Illness

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
A screenshot of my published essay on The Brevity Blog

“So what happens when you’re chronically ill and you can’t sit upright at a desk? Or you can’t always write at the same time every day? What happens when one day you can’t remember the name of the tool people use for eating and twirling spaghetti though you remember the scene in Disney’s Little Mermaid when Ariel used it to brush her hair?
“What happens is we make our own ‘rules.’ (And maybe we don’t call them rules. How about — Suggestions? Techniques? Process? Routine?) We expand the definition of writing.”

The paragraphs above are an excerpt taken from my essay, “The Non-Rules for Writing When You Live with a Chronic Illness.” I’m pleased to share my essay has been published on The Brevity Blog. The essay has resonated with readers — you’ll see several comments on the post itself. I have also received DMs and an email from readers. And really, that’s all I could ever hope for — that something I wrote touched a reader and made a reader feel seen. (You can click here to read my essay in its entirety.) 

One more thing:

Thank you, my dear friends. After last week’s post about the passing of my dad (you can read it here), so many of you reached out with comments, emails, DMs, and texts. Several of my close friends sent cards in the mail. Your kind words brought tears to my eyes and truly touched me. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you for your support. Thank you for holding my family in your hearts. Thank you for being here with me. I am truly grateful.

In Loving Memory of My Dad

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
One of my favorite photos of my dad.
Look at the smile on his face as he held our son the night he was born.

My world has grown dimmer and less funny. 

My dad passed away last week, on Friday, June 26th.

Throughout his hospital stay, my dad continued being himself. When asked by a doctor how he was feeling, my dad — who was hooked up to all sorts of monitors and had IVs in his arms — said, “I’ve been better.”

Another time he complained about his lunch not being what he ordered. “I asked for tuna on white. This is wheat.” 

Days later, he would receive a tuna sandwich on white bread, eating only half of it. On another day, I held the small cola can while my dad took baby sips from the straw, and we joked that finally he was allowed to have soda on a daily basis. And at another lunchtime, I fed him diced peaches. 

A friend of mine has told me my dad was such a brave man. He was very clear on what he wanted and what he didn’t. He wanted to die with dignity, on his terms, and we did everything we could to make sure that happened. 

This blog post has taken me quite a while to write. I keep crying, thinking of my dad in that hospital bed. Thinking of the empty recliner in my parents’ home. Thinking I will never again buy him a Father’s Day card. (This year he opened his Father’s Day card in the hospital.)

My dad had a hard start to life. Things could have gone really differently for him. 

Instead he met my mom, and it’s a story he loved to tell:
“Do you know what the first word your mother ever said to me was? She told me ‘no.’”

They had me, and on their first wedding anniversary, they brought me home from the hospital.
“That year, I got out of taking your mom out to dinner,” he joked each year on their wedding anniversary.

The passing of my dad has left our family with a list of No’s. 

No more dirty jokes. (Here’s one he loved telling: “Want to hear a dirty joke? A white horse fell in the mud.”)

No more mischievousness. (When our son was a little guy, my dad loved teaching him “poems,” including “Beans beans the magical fruit, the more you eat the more you toot…”)

No more out-of-the-blue hearts texted to my phone.

No more hearing my dad say, “Hey Suri” instead of “Hey Siri.”

Ten years ago, to celebrate my dad’s 70th birthday, I wrote him a special blog post — “10 Reasons Why I Love My Daddy.” You can click here to read that post, and see some family photos.