I've been writing speeches, papers, Science Projects, newspaper articles, and a plethora of other things for longer than I care to think about. I was around 11 when I started writing and giving speeches. One thing sticks out.
My dad saying, "keep at it."
I would write a draft of a speech and take it to him and he would point out the good points and then he ALWAYS asked what made it unique from any other speech.
"What makes this great?"
I would trek off to my room and pout for a bit and then dig deeper for the 'zing'. Sometimes it would take a while, but eventually something would emerge. Here's the deal though. If he would not have asked me the hard questions, I would not have put my whole heart into it. See, telling me there WAS more MADE more.
I can't say it was pleasant, or warm and fuzzy, or exciting. Many times it was painful. Digging deeper hurt. Telling myself what I've written is okay but not great is difficult. Having someone else tell me is even harder.
A few months ago after I completed a book (which I was ready to publish), an experienced editor read parts of it. I expected her to come back and say, "it was just great!" Know what she said?
"Now, don't get me wrong...it's good," with a smile. "It's just not great." Smile again. "I think you can do better. Just slow it down a little. Take more pauses between writing the chapters. Rest and let it settle. Take time to let the greatness emerge."
Really? A lot of research went into this book...lots of difficult translating from ancient texts. Didn't she realize that? Didn't she know how hard I worked?
Discouraged, I put the book aside.
I hated it.
I loathed the process.
I didn't want anyone else to read it.
Ever.
Then I heard my dad's voice in my head saying, "keep AT IT." Dig deeper. Dig until it hurts. Put your heart into it.
I haven't touched it for six months, but I think I'm about to read the first chapter again. So, back to my room I go.
Mull and wait.
Slow it down.
Think and pause.
Let it rest and settle.
I WILL come. I know it will because I am keeping at it.
My dad saying, "keep at it."
I would write a draft of a speech and take it to him and he would point out the good points and then he ALWAYS asked what made it unique from any other speech.
"What makes this great?"
I would trek off to my room and pout for a bit and then dig deeper for the 'zing'. Sometimes it would take a while, but eventually something would emerge. Here's the deal though. If he would not have asked me the hard questions, I would not have put my whole heart into it. See, telling me there WAS more MADE more.
I can't say it was pleasant, or warm and fuzzy, or exciting. Many times it was painful. Digging deeper hurt. Telling myself what I've written is okay but not great is difficult. Having someone else tell me is even harder.
A few months ago after I completed a book (which I was ready to publish), an experienced editor read parts of it. I expected her to come back and say, "it was just great!" Know what she said?
"Now, don't get me wrong...it's good," with a smile. "It's just not great." Smile again. "I think you can do better. Just slow it down a little. Take more pauses between writing the chapters. Rest and let it settle. Take time to let the greatness emerge."
Really? A lot of research went into this book...lots of difficult translating from ancient texts. Didn't she realize that? Didn't she know how hard I worked?
Discouraged, I put the book aside.
I hated it.
I loathed the process.
I didn't want anyone else to read it.
Ever.
Then I heard my dad's voice in my head saying, "keep AT IT." Dig deeper. Dig until it hurts. Put your heart into it.
I haven't touched it for six months, but I think I'm about to read the first chapter again. So, back to my room I go.
Mull and wait.
Slow it down.
Think and pause.
Let it rest and settle.
I WILL come. I know it will because I am keeping at it.
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