Essays

Heidi J. Kellam

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What We Have Learned

I write about all the messy (and fun) parts of relationships:

  • dating 💐
  • sex 🫦
  • marriage 💍
  • divorce 💔
  • parenting 👩🏼‍🍼

I mostly write for divorced mothers, like me, so that they can laugh or rage along, but also for anyone awed by the ridiculousness of dating in midlife.

Since I’m currently pitching my book, Without You, a memoir about intergenerational divorce and poverty, I also write about class struggles and what it’s like to write traumatic personal narratives.

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A small round café table beside a rain-speckled window holds a single stemless wine glass filled halfway with deep red wine, a square black notebook, and a neatly folded linen napkin. On the notebook’s cover rests a hotel key card and a lipstick-smeared cocktail stirrer, suggesting an unfinished story. Outside the window, the city is softly blurred into colorful evening bokeh—neon signs, car lights, and wet pavement glistening. Warm interior lighting contrasts with the cool, rainy twilight beyond, creating a sophisticated, slightly mischievous mood. Photographic realism, captured from a low, intimate angle with shallow depth of field, the composition leans on the rule of thirds, inviting the viewer into the charged pause between dating encounters and private reflection.

Dating

An open silver laptop sits on a clean oak table, its screen displaying a minimalist newsletter layout with a bold headline and a scattering of article previews, all out of focus enough to avoid legibility. Next to the laptop, a stack of printed essay drafts—some neatly clipped, others slightly skewed—shows red pen marks, circles, and question marks along the margins. A slim passport with a worn cover peeks from beneath the stack, and a subway ticket lies askew nearby. Late-morning window light falls diagonally across the table, casting crisp, intelligent shadows and creating a gentle sheen on the laptop’s metallic surface. Photographic realism, shot from a three-quarter angle with moderate depth of field, the mood is modern, ambitious, and cosmopolitan, subtly suggesting the link between the personal website and a Substack-based writing life.

Travel

A minimalist corkboard fills the frame, pinned with overlapping index cards, yellowed ticket stubs, and torn pieces of paper, each covered in typed and handwritten fragments about love, money, travel, and heartbreak. A thin red thread connects several notes labeled with bold words like “divorce,” “sex,” and “poverty,” forming an almost map-like pattern. The board hangs on a smooth white wall above a sleek walnut console table holding a single, closed laptop and a small brass desk lamp. Warm, directional lamplight creates dramatic side lighting, emphasizing texture in the paper and casting crisp, thoughtful shadows. Photographic realism, shot straight-on with sharp focus throughout, the mood is smart, slightly playful, and analytical, suggesting a sophisticated mind mapping complex human relationships.

Writing

Comments made on my Essays

A small round café table beside a rain-speckled window holds a single stemless wine glass filled halfway with deep red wine, a square black notebook, and a neatly folded linen napkin. On the notebook’s cover rests a hotel key card and a lipstick-smeared cocktail stirrer, suggesting an unfinished story. Outside the window, the city is softly blurred into colorful evening bokeh—neon signs, car lights, and wet pavement glistening. Warm interior lighting contrasts with the cool, rainy twilight beyond, creating a sophisticated, slightly mischievous mood. Photographic realism, captured from a low, intimate angle with shallow depth of field, the composition leans on the rule of thirds, inviting the viewer into the charged pause between dating encounters and private reflection.

Emilie G.

“Full-body goosebumps at the ending ❤️ So good, my friend!”

An open silver laptop sits on a clean oak table, its screen displaying a minimalist newsletter layout with a bold headline and a scattering of article previews, all out of focus enough to avoid legibility. Next to the laptop, a stack of printed essay drafts—some neatly clipped, others slightly skewed—shows red pen marks, circles, and question marks along the margins. A slim passport with a worn cover peeks from beneath the stack, and a subway ticket lies askew nearby. Late-morning window light falls diagonally across the table, casting crisp, intelligent shadows and creating a gentle sheen on the laptop’s metallic surface. Photographic realism, shot from a three-quarter angle with moderate depth of field, the mood is modern, ambitious, and cosmopolitan, subtly suggesting the link between the personal website and a Substack-based writing life.

Esme R.

“This is so beautifully interwoven 🧡 your stories help redirect the fear of the unknown into magical curiosity, and ultimately make me feel braver!”

A minimalist corkboard fills the frame, pinned with overlapping index cards, yellowed ticket stubs, and torn pieces of paper, each covered in typed and handwritten fragments about love, money, travel, and heartbreak. A thin red thread connects several notes labeled with bold words like “divorce,” “sex,” and “poverty,” forming an almost map-like pattern. The board hangs on a smooth white wall above a sleek walnut console table holding a single, closed laptop and a small brass desk lamp. Warm, directional lamplight creates dramatic side lighting, emphasizing texture in the paper and casting crisp, thoughtful shadows. Photographic realism, shot straight-on with sharp focus throughout, the mood is smart, slightly playful, and analytical, suggesting a sophisticated mind mapping complex human relationships.

Scott G.

“A compelling look at what we’re willing and not willing to sacrifice to fulfill our reason for being. Thanks, Heidi.”

A well-worn hardcover notebook lies open on an antique wooden desk, its creamy pages filled with looping handwritten sentences, crossed-out phrases, and margin notes in different ink colors. A slim black fountain pen with a gleaming gold nib rests diagonally across the center crease. Beside it, a heavy ceramic mug with a subtle celadon glaze shows a faint lipstick edge, half-full with dark coffee. Soft morning light filters through sheer curtains, creating gentle highlights on the pen and casting long, quiet shadows across the page. In the blurred background, stacked paperbacks and a small potted ivy suggest a thoughtful writer’s corner. Photographic realism, shot at eye level with a shallow depth of field, intimate and contemplative, evoking the private work of crafting personal essays.

Kristine L.

“Oh, how I can relate to this. Excellent!”