Listen to The Writing Life with Ann Kroeker

Episode 2: Rescue Lost Time

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I rolled into my driveway around 9:00 at night, greeted my family, and heated up some soup.

Then I pulled out my phone:

Texts from Charity Singleton Craig, my friend and coauthor. A phone call from her, too. A stream of emails, and on Facebook, an explosion of notifications. What happened?

SURPRISE! A virtual book release party!

Our mischievous, creative, unconventional publisher T. S. Poetry Press decided to try a mischievous, creative, unconventional approach to our book launch. Instead of sending books to the authors first and building anticipation leading up to the scheduled release date of December 1st, they quietly, secretly prepped it and made it available for purchase … without saying a word to us.

Meanwhile, as Charity and I busily moved ahead with plans for a December release, T. S. Poetry Press rounded up our friends online and invited them to a secret launch page on Facebook. I think they were waiting for a few days until either Charity or I figured out the book was available. As expected, at some point on Monday Charity found a link associated with our book and clicked through to Amazon.

There it was. Live. Available to purchase. “Our book is available right now!” Charity texted me while my phone was on mute.

Her inquiry to the publisher served as the mechanism to launch the surprise party—friends across the country and a few in other countries began congratulating us and celebrating with posts and photos that showed cupcakes and balloons! All day long, they inundated our Facebook stream with joy and affection.

“…lots of people are celebrating with us!” Charity texted.

All day long, this unfolded without my knowing it!

I almost missed my own surprise party! Thankfully, Charity kept up with all the notes on Twitter and Facebook and Google+.

Monday evening, after that long day of appointments, I opened my laptop and worked my way through the alerts, retweeting delightful tweets, clicking “like” on Facebook and thanking people and answering questions, laughing and feeling loved and celebrated in the swirl of surprise.

You got me, T. S. Poetry Press.

Thank you for the surprise. Thank you for the celebration. Thank you for making this book a reality. And thank you, Charity Singleton Craig, for sharing the pages of On Being a Writer.

Life is to be fortified by many friendships. To love and to be loved is the greatest happiness of existence.” (Sydney Smith, English clergyman from the 1800s)

Thank you everyone for fortifying my life and bringing me great “happiness of existence”!

The post On Being a Writer – Surprise! appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

My junior year in college, I started scribbling each day’s to-do list the night before. I’d always include “wake up” so I would have the pleasure of marking off one item first thing in the morning: a visual sign of accomplishment.

I’ve always joked about how pathetic it was to include “wake up,” but I needed to see that I made progress.

Decades later, I want to establish some habits, to have a rut to run in, but I’m still the same at my core: I need to see that I’ve made progress.  Over the years I’ve continued using to-do lists to keep track of tasks, and you’d think that adding daily habits to the to-do list (so I can cross them off each day) would lock them in, but for some reason it doesn’t work.

Since January, I’ve been testing a habit-forming concept that marks progress visually: Jerry Seinfeld’s Productivity Secret, also known as “Don’t Break the Chain.” Before recommending it to my blog friends or writing coach clients, I’ve been waiting to see how it works for me, given that forming habits is such a personal struggle.

Guess what? It works.

At least, it works for me. And I heartily recommend it to anyone who struggles with how to form a daily habit.

In a complex, high-tech world, the simplicity of Seinfeld’s “Don’t Break the Chain” approach offers a refreshing alternative to buzzers and gadgets (though supporting apps are available). With this concept in place, I wake up motivated to follow through with the habit and feel pleasantly affirmed once I do.

What’s Seinfeld’s Secret?

Software developer Brad Isaac explains via Lifehacker that Seinfeld shared the idea of “Don’t Break the Chain” with him years ago when they met briefly at a comedy club. Brad asked for some tips, and Seinfield told him his system for ensuring he writes new material every day. A second, more in-depth article offers an explanation for how it’s done. Here’s how I understand it:

1. Pick a Habit: Decide on a habit you’d like to establish. Something simple. Something you want to do daily. Something you can actually accomplish every day. I recommend absolutely no more than two habits when starting out. Better to attend to one or two and really lock those in than to try four, feel overwhelmed, and give up. Let’s say you want to write 500 words every day. That’s doable.
2. Calendar: Purchase or print off a one-year calendar for that habit (or download a supporting app, though visual people will benefit from having the calendar posted where they can see it as a reminder). One calendar per habit. Print one for your 500 words and write that at the top.
3. Post the Calendar: Hang up your calendar where you see it, as a reminder to follow through with the habit by end of day. You can see why the app may not work as well—out of sight, out of mind.
4. Marker: Buy a big marker in a color of your choice (Seinfeld recommended red, but anything bold would work). If you’re using an app, you won’t need the marker. Also, the app may come in handy if you travel a lot.
5. Daily X: When you complete the habit, mark a big X on that day. The next day, be sure the tips of the X touch the previous day’s X. After two days—certainly by day four or five—you’ll start to create a satisfying chain effect.
6. Don’t Break the Chain: Now your goal is to mark an X every single day, so you don’t break the chain of X’s. Something about seeing that continuous chain offers visual and internal satisfaction, reinforcing the habit.

“Don’t Break the Chain” Resources

• A young man named Charlie McDonnell created a short video in 2012 explaining how he stays motivated to create a video every day using Seinfeld’s “Don’t Break the Chain” technique.
• Karen Kavett has designed some nice “Don’t Break the Chain” calendars (here’s a set for 2014, with color options so each habit can have its own color per your whim). I wish hers had squares, though, as it’s easier to make an X in a box.
• At CalendarLabs.com, you can pick your favorite calendar to download and print. Scroll down to find some full-year calendars (and some have the days in boxes).
• Download the extremely simple Android “Seinfeld Calendar” app or iPhone equivalent (such as the Don’t Break the Chain app).
• Chain Calendar and Don’t Break the Chain require signup to track your habits online.

Consider developing a system for marking sick days or vacations when a habit like “Wipe kitchen counters” will not be performed. Perhaps you’ll draw an outline around the calendar’s box so that you still create connections to the X. Or you could draw an “A” for “absent” and let the bottom of the A touch the bottom of the X. In any case, it’s smart to build in a plan that accommodates real life.

Someday you won’t be sick or on vacation…someday you’ll feel ornery or overwhelmed and fail to do the thing you set out to do. Someday you’ll get busy and just plain forget about it. On that day, you won’t outline the box or draw an A for “absent.” On that day, you’ll leave that square blank and the chain will show a gap.

On that day, you’ll break the chain.

But you know, it’s human to feel ornery, overwhelmed, busy and forgetful. And it’ll be a break, but it’s not the end. Don’t stare at that broken chain and feel like you’ve failed. Don’t rip down the calendar and give up.

Instead, pick up the habit again the next day and start a new chain. See if you can create a longer streak than before. You can see from my calendars that I’ve done that. A new day can be the start of a new chain, and I still find satisfaction looking back at those long stretches before I missed a day.

If habits are hard for you to form, give the Seinfeld Secret a try. Pick a habit, maybe two (but no more than two until you establish a solid month of X’s) and then Don’t Break the Chain.

The post How to Form a Daily Habit: Don’t Break the Chain appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Until 2001, my mom thought our genealogy traced to England and Germany, but that year she and her brother discovered to their surprise that the ancestors they presumed were English actually came from Scotland.

After tracing our family name to Kirkcudbright, where Robert Burns visited the Selkirk Inn and offered the famous “Selkirk Grace” (offered at the beginning of Burns Suppers), Mom began to refer to him as “Bobbie” Burns. Aye, once we knew we were Scottish, we felt a level of familiarity with Scotland’s national poet.

That year, Mom and her brother flew to Scotland and traipsed the countryside visiting cemeteries, museums, castles and libraries in search of more clues. Before long, they met distant relatives who called them “cousins” and welcomed them into their homes, shared stories, invited them to dinner and served them cookies.

While sitting behind a small church by the Kirkcudbright harbor, surrounded by “a host of golden daffodils,” Mom wrote in her journal, “Are we drawn to this place because our roots are here? Or because it is so charming?” And my uncle felt such a draw to Scotland after that first trip, he returned many times over the years, staying for weeks at a time. He became such a regular, the locals greeted him by name when he stepped into the pub for a drink.

I’ve never been there myself, so I’ve had to find and form my connection to Scotland in other ways. The photos and stories my mom and uncle share provide a starting point, of course, but I’ve seen again and again how poetry crosses time and space to link heart and mind and place to person, so I recently perused the Scottish Poetry Library’s list of poets, in search of some links. The collection reminded me how many classic poets come from Scotland, such as Sir Walter Scott, Lord Byron, Robert Louis Stevenson, George MacDonald, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Scotland came to me on Poetry at Work Day, via Twitter, when the Scottish Parliament shared a poem by Edwin Morgan, written for opening of the Scottish Parliament building in 2004. And the Young Reporters for the Environment introduced me to several more contemporary Scottish poets, such as Hugh MacDiarmid, Sorley Maclean, and Iain Crichton Smith.

One of those mentioned, Norman MacCaig, offers a poetic glimpse of Scotland in his poem, “Assynt and Edinburgh”:

Assynt and Edinburgh

From the corner of Scotland I know so well
I see Edinburgh sprawling like seven cats
on its seven hills beside the Firth of Forth.

And when I’m in Edinburgh I walk
amongst the mountains and lochs of that corner
that looks across the Minch to the Hebrides.

Two places I belong to as though I was born
in both of them.

They make every day a birthday,
giving me gifts wrapped in the ribbons of memory.
I store them away, greedy as a miser.

Robert Louis Stevenson penned this poem far from his homeland, remembering the land of his birth:

To S. R. Crockett (On receiving a Dedication)

Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying,

Blows the wind on the moors to-day and now,

Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying,

My heart remembers how!

Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places,

Standing stones on the vacant wine-red moor,

Hills of sheep, and the howes of the silent vanished races,

And winds, austere and pure:

Be it granted me to behold you again in dying,

Hills of home! and to hear again the call;

Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying,

And hear no more at all.

But “Bobbie” Burns is the one I feel I must attend to, and I’m sorry I missed the Burns Supper hosted by our local Scottish Society here in the States to commemorate Burns Night, January 25. I’m reminded Burns penned the poem we sing on New Year’s Eve, Auld Lang Syne and the classic poem “A Red, Red Rose”:

A Red, Red Rose

O my Luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.

As fair are thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my Dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my Dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve!
And fare thee weel, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile!

Lingering on the lochs and moors of Scotland, if only through verse, I sense the love of the land and language, the pride in the people and poets. Then I stumble on this brief poem from George MacDonald, and I hear the words all the way from Scotland, across time and space, linking poet and place to person.

The Shortest and Sweetest of Songs

Come
Home.

* * *

Originally published at Tweetspeak Poetry; published here under a Creative Commons license. Photo by Moyan_Brenn, Creative Commons, via Flickr.

The post Coming Home to Scotland – The Poetry of Place appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

__________________________

One of my daughters started babysitting for a morning moms’ meeting. The first week, a woman came up to her and asked if she was Ann Kroeker’s daughter. When my daughter said she was, the woman said, “Your mom spoke to our group years ago, and I’ll never forget what she said.”

My daughter expected to hear a profound quote so powerful and life-changing, it was worth holding onto for seven years.

The woman smiled. “She said sleep deprivation is a classic torture technique, so if you’re a young mom feeling like you’re being tortured…you are!”

My daughter laughed as she told me the story later that day.

“You had no idea I was so very wise, did you?” I remarked. She laughed again. My “wisdom” was cracking her up.

For the record, my daughter added that the woman insisted my message helped her get through the early, exhausting days of parenthood, realizing that if she felt like she was being tortured by late-night feedings and lack of sleep, it wasn’t her imagination. Hearing that, I’m glad I talked about torture that day (it was, by the way, just one small point in a larger presentation).

I remember with a shiver those lonely, depressing, sleep-deprived, mush-mind days. Back then, I told people my mind felt no more lively than a bowl of cold, congealed oatmeal. I began to fear I’d never write again. As you can imagine, writers need functioning minds to do their job. Bowls of cold oatmeal offer little to the world.

Author Kimberlee Conway Ireton knows this feeling. When she felt her mind dissolving to mush and her emotions going haywire while her newborn twins consumed every waking (and sleeping) moment, her psychological health waned. She felt like she was cracking up.

Yet, her book Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis provides concrete evidence that even during the darkest times of her postpartum struggles, she could write and laugh. The “Grace Notes” she faithfully scribbled down reflect word artistry and the eyes and heart of a poet. The jokes interspersed reveal the humor that lifted her sagging spirit.

Margie, her spiritual advisor, asks “where has God been meeting you.” Kimberlee says she is grateful for laughter. She tells some stories and she starts laughing so hard she’s crying. “Oh man,” Kimberlee says, “I have to stop laughing. I’m going to pee my pants.” Then she remembers another story that makes her laugh even more. Margie’s laughing, too, and says, “[D]on’t you see God?”

“God?”

“Yes, God!” Margie exclaims. “I see God in all of this laughter. So clearly. I see his delight in your laughter…It’s still Easter. I think it’s just perfect that this season of laughter in your life is happening during Easter.”

…I tell Margie, “Anne Lamott says that laughter is carbonated holiness.”

“I like that,” she says, and smiles. “Carbonated holiness. Yes.”(47, 48)

Throughout the book, Kimberlee is open about details associated with pregnancy and nursing mom issues and describes gadgets including the breast pump, nipple cream, and the “baby hugger” support system she wore during pregnancy. Her husband sees her putting on this contraption and says he’s going to miss these days. She knows how unattractive she must appear at that moment. She makes a face at him.

I pull the baby hugger’s suspenders over my shoulders and down to my belly. It’s a bit of a stretch, even for the elastic. When I fasten the suspenders to the girdle, the velcro doesn’t hold. The suspenders fly up and hit me in the face.

Doug laughs again. “Yep,” he says, “I am definitely going to miss this.” (72)

She deals with problems far more serious than being thwacked in the face by elastic suspenders (and teased by her husband). [SPOILER] She deals with health complications during the pregnancy and a neonatal emergency after the twins’ birth, adding stress to an already stressful situation. She and her husband carry this anxiety with them into life at home caring for twins and two older kids.

As her subtitle states, Kimberlee was hit hard. Her depression is complicated by her desire to succeed as a writer (and her inability to do so). She declares quite honestly that she dreams of being a bestselling author (which seems unlikely given that her first book is, in her words, “tanking”). Consumed by 24/7 demands of feeding, changing, nurturing two newborn twins and two older children, Kimberlee wonders if her writing life may be lost forever.

Her fears intensify far beyond the baby blues. Kimberlee’s story reveals a mom in the midst of postpartum depression unable to recognize her need for medical intervention. Though she seems to have revealed to family and friends glimpses of the mounting anxiety she carried, I’m guessing no one knew how bad it was.

Tears drop onto my hand, onto Ben’s little swaddled back. How do I hold those things in tension? The goodness of my life, the many gifts I have, and the fact that I still find my life so difficult? And the most sobering fact that it could easily be so much harder?

…My tears fall harder, and my heart feels like it’s cracking right open and all the fear and unfairness and suffering is leaking out my eyes. And then, it fills my mouth, and I want to scream, but I can’t—I’ll wake my almost-sleeping babies, I’ll scare Jack and Jane who are in the living room waiting for me to read to them—so it erupts in a silent scream of pain, anger, anguish, as if I could rid myself of those things simply by opening my mouth wide enough, by crying hard enough. (Ireton 194, 195)

Thankfully she has help. Her husband, her mom, her sister, her spiritual director, and her friends step in and help carry her burdens in tangible ways, listening, bringing her meals, and keeping her laughing and praying. This network of support impressed me, as does the way they steer Kimberlee to truth in a way that does not offend or seem trite. As fear almost paralyzes her, she clings to threads of faith.

Life is precious, each moment a gift, and my best self—the self that I long to live out all the time—believes that God holds each moment, eternally present before Him, and when we stand before Him face to face, we will get those moments back, purified and perfected. We will. And if we don’t, God will have something even better for us—something more than all we can ask or imagine.

I believe. Oh help my unbelief.

Oh Jesus, cast out my fear. (177)

[PROBABLY THE BIGGEST SPOILER] Finally, fortunately, after months of sleep deprivation and postpartum hormonal flux, she gets the medication she needs to balance out her system. The twins start also to sleep through the night.

She’s medicated. She’s rested. She’s back. She’s believing. She’s writing.

She’s going to make it.

[END OF SPOILER] Kimberlee’s humor throughout the book offers occasional respites from the weight of her struggle, but it’s scary at times to read about her fears and anxiety, her soul-echoing emptiness.

Nevertheless, I recommend that people read this book to better understand postpartum depression and how it sets in and grows. And if you know someone with a newborn, especially twins, assume that she is sleep-deprived and needs your help in practical ways. She may also need you to discern her level of anxiety and depression.

When you drive over to drop off a meal and rock the baby, bring her a copy of Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis, as well. Leave it with her. It’s a sobering read, but her humor and quality writing make the topic accessible. Later, ask if she feels like Kimberlee. And if she sort of deflects it with humor, shrugs a little, or breaks out in tears, get her help. Pick up the phone and make the appointment for her, if need be. Help her load the kid(s) into the car and drive her to the doctor’s office, for her to get a diagnosis.

Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis is a reminder that postpartum depression is no laughing matter. It’s more like torture. Kimberlee handled it with humor and grace, but she struggled and suffered, and no one needs to feel that, carry that, try to survive that alone.

Kimberlee writes for two online organizations I’m part of: The High Calling and  Tweetspeak Poetry. As an editor of her work, I can assure you Kimberlee’s got her mind back. And her faith. But she needed people to step in and help her see what to do.

You can be that person for someone like Kimberlee. Let her story change other women’s stories. Maybe even your own.

* * * * *

BOOK GIVEAWAY!

If you would like a copy of Cracking Up for yourself or to give away, I’m going to send my copy to one lucky commenter. If for some reason you don’t want to be in the drawing (maybe you already have the book, for example), let me know (but feel free to leave a comment anyway!). To be included in the drawing, leave your comment (with some way to contact you) by 8:00 p.m. ET Friday, December 20, 2013. I’ll do the random drawing and announce the winner on Saturday, December 21.

________________

Work Cited:

Conway Ireton, Kimberlee. Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis. Seattle, WA: Mason Lewis, 2013. Print.

The post Book Response – Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

On Wednesday my phone alerted me to an appointment. I glanced at the time: 2:00 p.m. What did I schedule at two o’clock on the day before Thanksgiving?

I swiped the screen to check my calendar.

Ah. It thought I was supposed to be sitting at my computer for what had been known for the past 12 weeks as “office hours.” I forgot to tell my phone that “office hours” are over.

For these past three months, I’ve facilitated (along with Charity Singleton Craig) a Tweetspeak online workshop comprised of a vibrant group of writers who, in community, explored 12 essential elements of their writing lives.

Over the weeks, we read and responded to writing submissions, developing deep respect and affection for every person in the group as creatives, writers, and friends. Each Wednesday afternoon at two o’clock Eastern Time, those of us who were available would gather online in our private workshop space to interact (via message threads), about writing, about life, about struggles and questions or ideas and solutions, or about all of the above.

People would come and go as their schedules allowed. Some members couldn’t break away to join that discussion time due to work or obligations, so they dropped in later at their convenience to continue the conversation with more questions, more ideas.

We’ve drawn inspiration and energy from each other. We’ve experimented and made discoveries. We’ve dreamed big and taken risks. We’ve built trust.

After enjoying each other so much for so long, it’s hard to step away from the online space where we developed these relationships, but I look forward to what’s next for each person. After all, the end of one thing is the beginning of another. In the blocks of time that have opened up now that the workshop has ended, we can begin projects that we’d been toying with but didn’t have time for. We can actively pursue goals and finish manuscripts. We can start living the writing life not just hypothetically in workshop discussions, but in earnest.

As we begin new things, we’ll keep tabs on each other, celebrating someone’s byline and waving at each other through social media.

I’m delighted to have helped facilitate this rich, playful, productive time together.

I’m honored to have traveled alongside these writers on this leg of their journey.

And I’m thankful, so thankful, for each one of them.

_______________________

The Writing Life workshop was made possible through Tweetspeak Poetry. Though this workshop has ended, Tweetspeak offers a variety of workshops throughout the year, so check in from time to time or follow them on Facebook to see what’s planned. And Tweetspeak is committed to helping writers become who they really are by creating ongoing opportunities for writers to learn, play, and grow. so jump in and try a writing prompt or take a virtual literary tour. Explore this literary community for inspiration to start living your own writing life right now. 

The post The 2013 Writing Life Workshop appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Writing and Editing Workshops

We’d turn in a poem to the teacher, who collected them all and passed out copies for us to read and annotate so we could offer our peers helpful input. On the day of the workshop, we critiqued the poems out loud, pointing out what worked (and what didn’t), trying to explain why it worked (or didn’t).

In a poorly managed class where the professor allowed negative, disrespectful remarks to dominate, the workshop process disheartened many young, inexperienced writers. Too much negativity discourages a person taking creative risks—all too often that new author will conclude she must not have what it takes and years may pass before she picks up a pen or sits at the keyboard to try writing again.

If handled well by the instructor, however, the workshop offered invaluable input, making us (and our work) stronger, helping students identify their strengths while pointing to areas in need of tweaking.

A few years ago, Professor J.C. Schaap announced to his creative writing students that their stories would undergo a writing workshop. As their work rolled in, several students included e-mails telling him that they were scared, witless. To prepare them, he set up a trial run using an anonymous piece from his files. At first, the students were reluctant to say anything negative. But someone spotted a scene in the story that seemed unrealistic and hesitantly pointed it out. That first comment opened up the rest of the class, and Schaap reported that “condemnation starting rolling down like justice is supposed to. Right before my eyes, a bandwagon appeared.” He continued:

There was a hangin’ coming, I knew, so I told the madding crowd that next week—when their own workshopping begins—the same darn thing is likely to happen, only they’ll be looking at the actual writer, not thinking of her in the abstract, because next week the writers R US or whatever.

That quieted the mob into stony silence.

Teaching can be fun. If it wasn’t, I’d quit in a minute.

“So,” one of them says, meekly, “when we’re done, can we have a hug line?”

Positive, Constructive Critique

Anyone involved in writing and editing should remember we’re helping people become stronger writers. Our critique should be constructive, followed up by specific encouragement…and perhaps, when appropriate, a hug.

When evaluating and editing someone’s work, I focus on the positive as much as possible. Staying upbeat and honest throughout the process, I hope to earn the writer’s trust. Then, when I find spots where writers can tighten their work, they will take the risk to strip away excess, like sections that slow the pace so much that the reader’s eyes glaze over. When the excess disappears, the heart of the story, essay or poem emerges. Isn’t that what we’re all looking for? The heart? The life? The pulse of a piece?

Welcome Editorial Input

I’m not just an editor handing out suggestions to artists; I’m also a writer. I’ve held red pens in my hand to mark papers and I’ve stared at the red marks of others covering my own submissions, so I know both sides. I try to receive input with grace and humility from the editor evaluating my work, just as I try to offer it with kindness and respect when editing others. Sometimes the input hits hard; sometimes it hurts. I prefer a gentler approach, but I need the input any way it comes, so I’ve developed a thick skin and dig in to improve the work.

Though we may cringe in fear during the editorial or workshop process, deep down I think we welcome critique—especially specific, insightful, kind suggestions—because we yearn to improve. We hold out our ideas, stories, poetry—our very heart—to peers or editors to find out what they think. We do so trembling sometimes, scared witless. But we do it so that our writing comes to life, accepting the critique in order to grow.

Handle Writers with Respect

Teachers, editors, and peers will do well to remember that this feels risky to every writer, but they have the honor of participating in another person’s growth as that writer reaches out with his art to readers…to the world.

I’m reminded of an Emily Dickinson poem:

This is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me,
–The simple news that Nature told,
With tender majesty.
Her message is committed
To hands I cannot see;
For love of her, sweet countrymen,
Judge tenderly of me!

Writers have to develop a thick skin and deal with critique, even criticism. But when handling the words of others, whether in the form of a poem, post or story, we would do well to assume that they would like our input followed up by a “hug line” and that their heart’s cry is: “Judge tenderly of me!”

Only a few spots left for The Writing Life, an online writing workshop led by Charity Singleton Craig and me. Starts the first week in September—sign up now. 

Modified post from the archives.

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