When I am in doubt about my writing, ie almost always, I try to remember this short poem by Sean Thomas Dougherty titled Why Bother? Because right now, there is / someone / out there with / a wound / in the exact shape / of your words. Your words are the exact shape of many wounds James, thank goodness you bother. xoxo
Yes and yes and yes! So good to know that all of us have self-doubt at times and that our words touch people anyway. I'll remember this poem next spring when our field is full of frittilaries and violets. Thank you, James.
Wonderful poem, James! I love the synchronicity between your writing of it and Alex's prompt. And oh, I'm right there with that 8-year-old poet, trembling and reading, and I am SO there, adding to that thunderous applause... then and now!
Deep gratitude to you for these words and for modeling this showing up thing. Time and time again, when writers I like are vulnerable on the page, I feel a little empowered in my own way.
If our unfurling lasts only a brief moment, let it be wild beauty, a bright light. Even if only for a day, let us dazzle the skies. Keep writing, my friend. Keep dazzling those skies.
I had just closed the Substack window on my computer having decided not to share a poem and then I received this email. I believe it is telling me to go back and hit Send to everyone now.
I'm reading this on Mother's day morning, thinking about all the care givers out there - including you! You are surely holding your mother in your heart, as are many others.
This is just lovely! I happened to stumble across your long-ago podcast interview with Eric Zimmer yesterday, and so I got to hear a little bit about your grade-school courage as a writer . . . love this poem, loved the interview. Thank you for the beauty you put into the world.
"What I do is enough", now there's a mantra to try and live by. Thank you for sharing your words and vulnerability with us today, James. I wasn't quite as brave as you at 8, but I remember a similar moment of joyous recognition when my English teacher told me, at 14, that I should become a writer (based on the short story I'd just written for class), not knowing that it was my fondest wish and secret dream.
When I am in doubt about my writing, ie almost always, I try to remember this short poem by Sean Thomas Dougherty titled Why Bother? Because right now, there is / someone / out there with / a wound / in the exact shape / of your words. Your words are the exact shape of many wounds James, thank goodness you bother. xoxo
Yes and yes and yes! So good to know that all of us have self-doubt at times and that our words touch people anyway. I'll remember this poem next spring when our field is full of frittilaries and violets. Thank you, James.
Wonderful poem, James! I love the synchronicity between your writing of it and Alex's prompt. And oh, I'm right there with that 8-year-old poet, trembling and reading, and I am SO there, adding to that thunderous applause... then and now!
Deep gratitude to you for these words and for modeling this showing up thing. Time and time again, when writers I like are vulnerable on the page, I feel a little empowered in my own way.
If our unfurling lasts only a brief moment, let it be wild beauty, a bright light. Even if only for a day, let us dazzle the skies. Keep writing, my friend. Keep dazzling those skies.
I had just closed the Substack window on my computer having decided not to share a poem and then I received this email. I believe it is telling me to go back and hit Send to everyone now.
"Feel the fear and do it anyway!"
I'm reading this on Mother's day morning, thinking about all the care givers out there - including you! You are surely holding your mother in your heart, as are many others.
All I can say is, thank heaven for Mrs. Brown!!!
I’d love to hear the poem recited by the 8 year old you.
Your words continue to be beautiful, encouraging and so inspiring to so many. ❤️🙏❤️
This is just lovely! I happened to stumble across your long-ago podcast interview with Eric Zimmer yesterday, and so I got to hear a little bit about your grade-school courage as a writer . . . love this poem, loved the interview. Thank you for the beauty you put into the world.
"It was all I had to give..." wow.
Yours is a struggle we all share, and I thank you for giving voice to that struggle. It’s more than enough.
Beautiful and so touching. Thank you for this, James. I needed this message today. Your work is such a gift.
I love these parallel stories James 💛
Soothing reassuring words of grace and comfort. I love and admire your gentle ways, my friend!
Beautiful poem and essay. Thank you for sharing your story, which is very helpful to me personally.
"What I do is enough", now there's a mantra to try and live by. Thank you for sharing your words and vulnerability with us today, James. I wasn't quite as brave as you at 8, but I remember a similar moment of joyous recognition when my English teacher told me, at 14, that I should become a writer (based on the short story I'd just written for class), not knowing that it was my fondest wish and secret dream.