Outside my window a storm is threatening rise, a deep-throated frog somewhere, croaks a

greeting. I can’t see him, but I can hear him.

I just finished listening to Garrison Keillor’s Writer’s Almanac on NPR. I listen as often

as possible, reminded there’s a history to my craft. This isn’t some original feat I’m


There have been times when feedback seemed crucial to what I did. I needed someone else to

say that what I wrote was fine. Permission to keep going perhaps.

That changed somewhere along the line and I began writing for myself. Just to finish a

project, I thought. Then to write what I wanted to read. I learned to enjoy the craft for

what it brought to me. What it still brings and what I learn daily.

Feedback is nice when I get it, but no longer necessary to keep me going.

Still, I have to remind myself at times, the story won’t produce itself. Without me sitting in the chair, working on it, nothing gets done.


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