GOOD, BETTER, BEST.
Never let it rest
Until your “good” is “better”
And your “better”, “best”.
There's good, solid advice in that little poem my dad used to recite to me whenever I would become discouraged.
The reason I came to WDC was to learn and improve my writing skill, hone my craft, and develop my voice.
Sounds simple enough, right?
For someone who is as shy as I, this was daunting enough to cause anxiety of nightmarish proportions. I’m talking shortness of breath and heart pounding discomfort whenever I realized I had an email. I would torture myself with hand wringing questions: Is it a review? Is it favorable? What if it's unfavorable? It could be loaded with wonderful advice. Will it be encouraging? What if it’s harsh? Worse yet, what if it's discouraging? What if my writing is so bad that it pisses someone off enough for him or her to write me a scathing email?
In the beginning, I would wait a day or more before reading any email. Of course my biggest fear was realized pretty early on. I did indeed receive a harsh, discouraging, unfavorable review, devoid of encouragement or advice.
Close your mouth; it's all right. I'm still here.
Matter of fact, I am grateful to that unkind person because, even though I thought I would die when I read it, even though I cried my shy little heart out, I learned something. (No, not about writing, because, as I said, it was devoid of any possible writing lessons.) Looking back at it, I note spelling and punctuation errors. (HA!)
Back in the time of Watergate, a man named G. Gordon Liddy offered a wonderful response when asked about his involvement in the crime: “Things that don’t destroy me, make me stronger.” I latched onto that quote, knowing I would need it someday. Well, I didn’t need it in this case, but I did smile at the notion. I realized the sun still shone in the sky, and the earth didn’t open up and swallow me whole.
The lessons I learned from facing my nightmare are multifaceted: I learned that I love to write more than I hate to be criticized. I learned that it didn’t kill me. I learned that it inspired me to improve. By golly, it did make me stronger!
As if that was not enough, the added bonus was that my fears dissolved, because the worst had already happened. Nowadays, when I receive an email that is clearly a statement or review about something I have written, I rub my hands together in anticipation, lick my lips, and click to open it to the exclusion of all else.
Most reviewers here and elsewhere are readers who sincerely want the best for everyone. They offer words of wisdom, encouragement, insight, and good natured edits. Some even go so far as to instruct. They notice and applaud growth, nudging me closer and closer to success. I don’t know how it ever occurred to me to try and live without them. Those wonderful angels I once considered to be fearsome, help me develop that voice I want so much to train, that skill I want so much to perfect, and that craft I want so much to hone.
I lift my cuppa coffee to them each and every time I write – and to that one angry monster who unintentionally made me stronger.
Here's to ya!"
|  | War  (NPL)
What happens when the boy becomes a man? (Words when I was 12. Music when I was 15)
#1802221 by Carol St.Ann   |
POETRY PUBLISHED
My BOOKS & NOVELS
CHILDRENS" STORIES
SHORT STORIES (Mostly Contest Entries)
| | A Fish Story (E)
Steve tried to teach me to fish. Epistolic tale excerpted from my novel, Behind the Wall.
#1433571 by Carol St.Ann |
TRUE STORIES FROM MY LIFE
BLOGS
ON WRITING:
COMMUNITY:
 |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
