OUR WORD - the collective guide to intuitive writing.

Course runs from April 14th-May 26th. Registration opens March 6th and closes April 10th at midnight pacific time.

Why do you write? This is the question we always like to ask. {let your intuition be your guide in answering}

Why don’t you write? Maybe this is the question we should ask. {let your intuition be your guide in answering}.

This is ‘the guide to intuitive writing’ because all writing is intuitive.   This is important to know.   The act of writing is a practice.   Being a writer means sitting down and forming words.   Where do those words come from?

All writing comes from the deepest parts of our bodies and souls.

You can’t be taught to write. But you can practice tuning in to what is already there, or opening up to what longs to come through. Our Word, The Collective Guide to Intuitive Writing:

*is a course about practicing.

*is a course about listening + seeing.

*is a course about weaving life + spiritual practice into your work.

*is a course about creative process.


Our Word is made up of 5 women who happen to {among other things} love and live a writing life. Each of us will guide you through 5 weeks {plus a bonus week} of:

*sharing stories

*offering golden content

*gifting soul-stirring prompts

*sharing creative processes and life practices that inform our work.

*subtle space-holding for your own writing process.

We are not here to make your writing better. We are here to remind you why you write. We are here to remind you that you can and should claim “writer” as a name. This name isn’t something of status and profession. This name is about who you are and what you love to do, this name is about how you live

OUR WORD to you:

- you will be inspired

- you will desire to inspire

- you will be invited to write every.single.day

- you will have the opportunity to awaken your own unique writing way

- you will have access to tools + networking + community for writing beyond this course.

- you will see that your mark in this world is your word.

- you will rise up and call yourself writer. Yes. A Writer. You.

What to expect:

-Diverse content delivered to your cyberdoor daily. Alleluia for inspiring mail!

-Video, audio and prompts. Better entertainment than internet TV, we promise.

-Daily exercises by each writer each morning to wake up your senses and get your wordflow on. To hell with coffee!

-We will get spiritual on your ass. This is about your deepest callings, ok? This is about you and something more than you.


Our Word Writers and what they will bring:

Week 1: MaryBeth: Place

Week 2: Alisha: Truth

Week 3: Isabel: Naming

Week 4: Delia: Embody

Week 5: Rachael: Vision

Week 6: Conversation + Community

In the end {or your new beginning}:

*You will walk away with a new fire around the writing life.

*You will also walk away with a lot of new writing.

*You will be a member into the Our Word alumni writing collective. Big, beautiful, bold things I tell you.

*You will receive a pdf with the contents of the entire course, to revisit and re-experience.

{let's say it again:} You will claim the word: WRITER.

Course runs from April 14th-May 26th. Registration opens March 6th.

Marybeth Bonfiglio

Marybeth Bonfiglio

Writer. Alchemist. Firestarter.

I was raised a good catholic girl in a very old-school Italian family. I am the youngest of seven children. My dad was {and is} a hustlin’ goodfella and my mother a queen of domestic perfection. One taught me how to drink scotch and the other taught me how to make a slow cooked red sauce on Sunday. One taught me how to curse, the other taught me the way to say the Hail Mary. One showed me how to be a rebel; the other showed me how to be a mother. They both gave me the space to sit down and write. And so I started the writing life at age 5. And I haven’t stopped since.

Somewhere on the Other Side I made a blood promise that I would pass on some stories big and small and those stories would be a guide. So that’s that. I tend to think it’s a bad idea to break my promises to spiritual gangsters and outlaws of the Most High. So even when I don’t want to, I still write. Sometimes it’s just in my head. Or on a napkin or back of a receipt. Sometimes I decide the words need to be published. Sometimes I think they are best burnt to ash in the fire. I write to release tension, karma, pain and anger. I write because I love. For me, writing is alchemical. Intentional. Words can transform the world. I write because I want to feel Home. I write because I want to know and unknow. To wind myself up tight and then unravel, unleash, unhindge. I write because I don’t know who I am or what I am in any given moment and the words, the words always are a compass, a map, a lighthouse guiding my way.

I write because I love what I see. Or I hate what I see. And I want to say something about it.

I created this course because I wanted a writing community, a lifeline, a bloodline, a wordline with radical, truth seeking individuals. I wanted to circle with those who write, those who are just about ready to claim the word Writer, those who were born with a W branded into their hearts. I created this so we can lean against each other, rant to each other, read to each other, and hold each other to Our Word when we feel like giving up.

I love the way words bleed out, how they shoot us up with pleasure and pierce our hearts with pain. I love how they can make us cry. I love how they can make us want to do things. Be things. Say things.

I love how the more I write the more I want to write.

I love how much I want to share all this with you. I want you to always know that you are a writer if want to be. So just write. Yes. Let’s just do this. I’ll be here. I give you My Word.

Alisha Sommer

Alisha Sommer

Writer. Truth-Teller. Beacon.

I am Alisha Sommer, wife to my husband, and mommy to my 3 babes. I drink coffee and wine. I love fresh-baked bread, a golden sun, and the smell of the sea. I am sensitive but strong. I believe that almost any ill can be cured with a good hug. Seven years ago, bulimia and a diagnosis of Bipolar II Disorder left me feeling dead. Marriage and children (and the lessons that come with them) brought me back to life. So did writing.

I remember sitting on the patio of our small two-bedroom apartment holding a coffee mug in one hand and rubbing a taught round belly with the other. Nothing felt like it was the way it should have been. I had been struggling with depression, with the bitter loneliness of Chicago winters, with the uncertainty of my future. There I was, married with one young child and another on the way, with no idea of who I was a person—as a woman. I dove back into journaling, waking up at 5:30 every morning to scribble whatever lay on my heart. Four years later, writing is not just something that I like to do (and something I’ve always done), it is my breath. I must do it in order to live.

This writing thing is not really about writing though. I mean, it is about writing, but when you really look at it, what you are doing every time you sit down to write is re-discovering yourself. You find out what turns you on, what turns you off. You remember the dreams you left behind and the dreams that you no longer want to carry. You unravel to the point where sometimes all that remains are the bones stripped of their flesh. Then you write some more to pull the muscles back together. And you keep doing it all over again just to get to the truest essence of you.

I write to find out the truth about myself and this world. So much of what we believe about ourselves and the people around us are not based upon the knowledge of our own souls, but upon the stories given to us by others. Sometimes those stores aren’t good enough and then we flounder about this earth with no firm footing. Discovering our own truth gives us roots—gives us the sacred ground from which we grow.

I write because a life unexpressed is not a life worth living. I spent so much of my life silenced, living a hollow life. Writing gives me a way to say all of those things that I never had the guts to say out loud. I practice on the paper what I should have said last time and what I will say next time. I find my voice and learn how to use it. I fill in all those empty spaces around the heart.

I’m finding out that this duo of Truth and Voice helps me navigate this journey of re-discovery with Purpose. With Clarity. With Intention. With Love. With Vulnerability. With the strength and conviction that I find only through writing my words. There is no other way for me.

This is why I write:

I write because it makes me feel free. I write because it soothes my soul. I write because I want to change the world. I write for all of the times I never felt heard. I write for connection and meaning. I write to live.

Isabel Abbott

Isabel Abbott

Writer. Lover. Explorer.

i am a writer, a matchmaker and map maker and myth translator. an activist, a living room dancer, and a builder of messy and real and beautiful things. i live in a small apartment in the city. i dream of mexico. i am happy reading bones and baking pie. i love coffee, and the late night sounds of my alley cat, and the call of wild devotion, and heat.

i am not, i suppose, particularly interested in the romantic or mystical notions and ideals of writing. i don’t know much about courting or seducing the muse. i don’t find chosen suffering or the angst of art to be that sexy. i like the doing the work part. i like the showing up and sitting down and seeing what happens part. i like the clean space of no ideas and a blank page, and the rush or slow liquid line of words that come to fill them. i love the in and out of writing, like a needle and thread, pushing and pulling at pieces of fabric, stitching something together.

i write lists. and letters. medical anthropology, myth, and essays. and a daily seven. i have been published in journals and magazines, books and anthologies and online, and i am proud of my work and i also don’t particularly care. i know that my writing comes from my living, and my loving of this world. and my living and legion heart is understood and made new by my writing. this is how it is for me.

i write because words, my words, our words, mean something, in all their many forms and faces. writing as art. writing as protest. writing as expression and exploration. as anchoring and navigating, mining and deep sea diving. writing as listening and as speaking. as a place and space where the ordinary, the quotidian, can co-exist and even fall in deep love with the sudden heartbreak, the staggering loss, the trauma, the pure rush of luck. so i write to name my own self and the world around me, which is to define and differentiate and create, and i write to remember how it is, that i am, the world is, always and already whole. really, this is it. i write because i can, because i want to, because i love. this is enough for me. it is everything.

and i give you my word, that whatever your own reasons and ways, whatever the hunger is that makes you seek and give voice to your words, i will show up at this table with you. we can be here together this way, feasting on all the things, those that are broken and lost and those forever found.

Cathleen Delia Mulrooney

Cathleen Delia Mulrooney

Writer. Teacher. Stargazer.

I’ve been a writer and story-collector my entire life, and now, I am a college writing instructor, working to help my students hone their skills and find inspiration within the academic sphere. I also teach a writing course for women, which I created to connect women to the stories of their physical journeys and body experiences. I’ve always believed that when a group of women come together to share the truth of their lives, selves, and histories, it opens the way for personal and collective shifts.

My writing has been published in a variety of magazines and anthologies, online and in print. I won a Division of the Arts state grant as an Emerging Artist in Fiction and I give public readings and performances of poetry, personal essay, and fiction whenever I can. I have an MFA in creative writing from Goddard College and am working deeply on a revision of my novel, while also writing a series of non-fiction essays and vignettes. Not to mention, I'm having a distracting (but entirely enjoyable) secret-writing-affair with my book of carnival-sideshow poetry.

I am loving life while deeply grieving my mother's death two years ago. I am recklessly friendly and intensely introverted. I am a creative-wanderer, book-enthusiast, loyal-friend, bathtub-devotee, curious-adventurer, and cynical-romantic. I am a part-time single mom of three and a part-time solo woman--a watery Cancer sun sign and a fiery Aries rising--always, always, always a contradiction. I have a cat named Frida Kahlo, a steadily-growing tattoo collection, and a shameless obsession with the moon.

Voices rise up in me and I let them echo through my head--the saintly and the wicked word. There is a sacrament of the word, of the life made word, of the flesh made word, and this is the only ritual I fully trust now. Pen to page, pushing ink. I am a storyteller of memory and imagination--truth and lies. I write the faded scraps, the bits of lace, and the heat of touch across my skin. I write what I've lost and what others forget to remember--I write to tell stories of the orphaned photographs, the letters never sent, the creation-stories of feather and bone. Writing is my love, my quiet survival, my fierce delight, and my literary rebirth. I write for the sacred hearts, wilting blooms, and miraculous wings.

Rachael Rice

Rachael Rice

Artist. Teacher. Dreamer.

While my background is in the field of art education, I started out as an English major. Growing up in a mid-western family, early on I began to –



Actually, here’s my deal: I started out as a pile of hydrogen and helium before it went supernova and carbon showed up. Fast forward like ten billion years and now I am a teacher, but not in a classroom. I’m an artist: a slut of all media. I’m a mother to a few thousand children none of whom passed through my birth canal. I have seen some heavy shit in my life, and I’m pretty sure my soul signed up for all of it. I spend most of my time figuring out what I’m going to eat, making things with my hands, and becoming acquainted with the nature of my true essence. I write about business, purpose, “mental illness” [superpowers] and fortunately, despite being pretty cute and fairly gifted, decided long ago it was more important to be of service than to be “somebody.” I believe all relationships are assignments. And sometimes, under cover of stars, gazing at my beloved, I wonder if art is the only thing that truly matters.

Writing is a conversation with myself about the things that matter most. Uh, to me anyway. It’s so closely tied to my need for imagery, to illustration, lettering, journaling, drawing, scribbling. Like many writers, it’s a way to get clear on how I feel and what I think. And anyway, words are FUCKED UP, right? How can words be funny (hippopotamus, Fresca, canoodle) and also be so lyrical (desultory, elixir, penumbra) – I mean, how can the word LOVELY be more beautiful than the word BEAUTIFUL?

It’s crazy! How can I spew a bunch of squiggly-ass shapes onto a page and you MAGICALLY UNDERSTAND THEM and can SEE WHAT’S IN MY BRAIN?!

That’s just psychedelic, a miracle. And I dig miracles. In this way, writing makes me happy. The origin of the word “miracle” comes from the Sanskrit word for smile.


What they're saying:::

Whether you are a writer, want to be or think you couldn't possibly ever be, this is THE course for you. I must admit to a severe wobble about handing what I felt was so much money over but, once the course started, those women earned every penny (cent!?) and gave me so much more. It's one of the best things I have ever gifted myself. The process can be a struggle but to persevere brings such joy and such a flow of words you'll feel un-dammed. You'll find yourself not just writing but living this course till it sits in the marrow of your bones. All this in the best kind of mutually supportive and inspiring online community that helps you write things you didn't even know were inside you, waiting to spring out.

-Nina, Our Word, Fall 2013

Words will never be able to describe just how utterly grateful I am to have been part of such a beautiful group of women. The teachers set the content but we all learned from one another. My core was ripped wide open and filled with truth, love and most importantly light! This course is a life altering, magical essence that everyone needs in their life. Thank you ladies, thank you!

Shawna, Our Word Spring 2013