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.