In my line of work, I encounter many folks who approach me with a "What can you do for me?" line of thinking: They want me to help them publish their book ideas. And I'll admit - what's in it for me is often the thought at the back of my mind, as well, when we're initially talking about a book project: What does this idea add to the field? Who will read it? How will it sell?
Every now and then, though, I meet a potential author with whom I connect with right away, and even though our ultimate goal remains the same -- publish a book that's a hit and sells like crazy! -- along the way, we realize that we like each other and have a lot more in common than simply a manuscript.
This month one of my would-be authors, who has also become a friend, asked me to write something for her blog. "But I'm not a teacher!" I protested...as all those yucky self-doubt voices filling my writer-brain. She flipped the script, used words that I've said to countless hesitant authors: "You need to put your writing into the world more often because your voice needs to be heard."
Isn't that wonderful? An author who tells her editor she needs to publish her words. It's amazing how many times I've said this to others...yet neglect to say it to myself.
Even more wonderful: an author who publishers her editor's words.
So I wrote it! And she published it!
Here's a snippet from the post, which came from a conversation about my relationship with poetry. It appears as part of the TeachWriteChat blog's Poetry Ponderings series for National Poetry Month. I'm honored to join the dynamic, smart, super-engaged teachers who write for this blog each week. Writing is crucial and so challenging - and these folks are the ones teaching our kids how to do it well. They're amazing.
Becoming a Poetry Person
I have a confession: I’m not really a poetry person.
Or at least I haven’t been for the first 40-some years of my life. Poetry intimidated me. The time I spent studying it in high school and college felt stodgy, stifled, snobbish. I couldn’t relate to much of what I’d read, so I stopped trying to “get it.”
Just over a year ago, however, with anxiety levels increasing and attention span decreasing, my colleague—who really IS a poetry person—casually mentioned (right after I explained why I’d switched from coffee to chamomile tea), “You know, I have a feeling you’d like Mary Oliver.” Poetry newb here responded, “Hmm, she sounds nice. Could you introduce us sometime?” My dear colleague didn’t laugh. Instead, she laid on my desk two collections of the most beautiful writing I’ve ever encountered. And she was right: I do like Mary Oliver. A lot.
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