New Writers

For years in September, my wife would buy me as many tulips as I was old. 61 tulips, 62 tulips and so on. But as I got older and older, there was no more room in our garden.
I love tulips. You stick them in the ground and maybe give them a little bone meal and in the spring – the strongest possible yellows and reds and pinks and bi-colors.
Some new writers are like that. You give them a few lessons: Show, don’t tell; Write what you know – and all of a sudden they surpass you – me – in ability. I’ve seen it again and again. In prison and in the community. Writers blossoming into full color with little help from me.

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8 responses to “New Writers

  1. Oh, but without the right gardener the bulb lays dormant, without bloom; it’s richness forever hidden.

  2. You’re right, Ed, that David’s response is highly poetic (in spite of the grammatical error!). Perhaps he’s more of a writer than he thinks. But he’s hit the nail on its head, you know; I think he’s referring to encouragement.

  3. That’s why I don’t blog. Bad “shmammar” trips up the reader and slows the reading process. Life is too short. It’s the same for sentence fragments. That said, everything has its place.

    Manuel

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