Jessica Golden Author and Speaker

I believe in

visceral content,

writing that is

instinctive,

deeply held in the heart,

cut out of us with

intention.

Welcome to Visceral Content,

Born into a family who declared that “You should never let the truth get in the way of a good story,” Jessica Golden is oddly compelled to write the truth, or at least her perception of it which invariably changes with each line written. Golden takes readers on a journey inward to discover how all of our stories inevitably have the power to connect the disparate elements that create us.

Follow the journey.

I started teaching almost eight weeks ago for our local K-12 school, English for 7th - 12th grades. Yes, if you are counting, that is a total of six preps, which accounts for the lack of rest, writing, and posting lately. I feel as if I took a deep d

This morning, I walked and cried, and walked and raged, and just walked until I was spent and curled up in a pile of cottonwoods. I found one broad enough to lay upon, my cheek nestled against its smooth surface. The air and wind and time had planed

I am absolutely one of those New Year, new beginnings, kind of people. Notebook in hand, you will usually find me making lists of goals, a series of wanted manifestations, and a map towards my spiritual center, a guide to help me return when I am los

We had over forty below last week, and then forty above this week, which is a perfect recipe for ice. As I admired the crystals formed on cheatgrass and sagebrush, slid along slick paths, and watched the creek break open in front of me, I kept pictur

Paul Simon sings about a man who’d like to rewrite the endings of his life. I used to think I wanted a life rewritten, something different, less painful then the one I’ve found myself in at times. I used to think it’d be worth it, t

I was blessed by perfect skies as I traveled to my hometown of Muskegon, Michigan.

I started on the road from Ten Sleep about 3am, driving the two and half hours to the Cody airport under a crisp, clear, pitch black sky filled with an almost full C

Grateful to find these voices..a few of my own thoughts after reading them.

I’ve wanted to kill someone, take justice and distribute it to myself without asking for permission from a world that can’t or won’t make some things right

Some people are having big family get togethers, some are hosting a few renegades, odds and ends compiled from friends, hired hands, and a bachelor or two. There will be homes where meals are slaved over for two days. Turkeys browned and rolls steami

A bevy of doves sunning themselves on the power line above me suddenly burst into flight. As the last wing beat into the air, I saw a bit of fluff descending. Such a precarious little moment, this soft down floating through the air.

I am filled wit

I’m grateful for the opportunity provided by the WY Arts Council to attend the Women Writing the West conference in Oklahoma City. I received a professional development grant that paid for 50% of the total costs, traded labor for a registration

Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg and owlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble

Walking through the trees, after a rain or a heavy dew, I am afforded the opportunity to catch the sun against an array of spiderwebs. Each web fills me with a sense of wonder. One minute, I see every radial, delicate dew drops strung along each th

There are times when we feel the torrential downpour of change and there are moments when we witness it in a tiny drop of water resting before it falls.

This morning mist is rising from foothills and meadows, the deep rain from the storm last night

Of course the stories are incredibly painful. . . . Naming things, breaking through taboos and denial is the most dangerous, terrifying and crucial work. This has to happen in spite of political climates or coercions, in spite of careers being won or

As summer draws to an end, I can feel the shift palpably coming between seasons. Oddly, it isn’t the colors changing, or the flowers dying on their stems, or even the chilly mornings that are serving as the real hallmarks of Autumn. It’

I was out for a hike, wandered over to a spot along the creek where a fallen tree crossed over the water. Impulsively, I climbed out to the middle to sit in a little arm and do some serious thinking while the water flowed under me. But, it broke ju

Lennie said quietly, "It ain't no lie. We're gonna do it. Gonna get a little place an' live on the fatta the lan'.” ― John Steinbeck, Of Mice and Men

I read recently that trauma survivors live with a diminished sense of confidence in thei