Happy Sunday, friends! I’m at the annual conference of the National Association of Social Workers - NJ Chapter for the next few days. I’m excited to be bringing a nice-sized group (7) of Master of Social Work (MSW) students with me from the program in which I teach. It’s a great learning and networking experience for them. For me, it’s an opportunity to show off these amazing students and to help introduce them to the professional social work world. As such, rather than a full essay today, I’d like to share a brief reflection I wrote recently. I hope you enjoy it.
I have an extensive writing process.
I read, and re-read, and re-re-read my essays, fixating on every word choice, every punctuation mark, until I think it's complete. Until it’s good.
No. Better than good.
It’s a hold-over from my hard-core perfectionist days. One of the few times I still hold myself to impossible standards.
Once I finally deem an essay complete, I set it to publish. Sunday morning, 5 a.m., is my usual publication time.
I like to think my readers are enjoying my work over a steaming mug of coffee, beloved pets on their laps or at their feet, children still aslumber.
It's a nice image.
But, my absolute favorite part of the writing process happens just before that.
It occurs after I've scheduled a publication to post, in the nether stages between declaring a piece finished and when it gets into a reader’s hands.
Because, a day or two before the scheduled publication, I always go back and read each piece one final time. Make one final round of edits. I can't resist.
It’s in those moments, when I've been removed from the creative process for a day or three, that I notice the subtle things.
Ways to tighten the language. Recurring themes and motifs I overlooked. Smart turns of phrase to add. Connections I missed. Perhaps a tweak to the title. Or, to the conclusion. I follow my instincts.
I follow my instincts until I hear the singing.
And, Ah! There's the feeling... When I hear my work sing, and everything snaps into place.
And it feels like something beautiful.
Like *I* made something beautiful.
And it feels like something right.
Something true.
That’s the best part. My favorite part.
It’s what I strive to remember when I stumble. When I doubt my words.
When I doubt myself.
I return to my favorite moment.
And I remember, my words can sing.
This Week’s Moment of Unconditional Love
As promised, this week’s Moment of Unconditional Love features the first of two special guests. Today, you’ll meet Scarlett, one of two fabulous Saint Bernards who live with Words over Swords reader and long-time friend, Sarah W. Thanks, Sarah!
Fun facts about Sarah W.:
- I have known Sarah since the age of 16, back when she was still Sarah H.
- Sarah and I went to my senior prom together. Always the popular one, she attended her real boyfriend’s senior prom the evening before.
- I was at Sarah’s wedding to her college sweetheart, to whom I will always refer as Big Matt, because she also has a nephew named Matt. The wedding was a blast. And, we all kept sneaking into the bar to watch the Boston Red Sox play the Cleveland Indians (now the less controversially named Cleveland Guardians) in the American League Division Series. I want to say… 1999, but don’t hold me to that.
- When I orchestrated my own personal “Big Chill” moment in my early-40’s, Sarah, along with a half dozen other high school friends, turned out to support me. She flew nearly 500 miles to get there.
For an all too brief time, from my mid-teens to my early/mid-20s, Sarah was one of my closest friends in the world. Time passes and creates distance, but we’ve managed to remain in touch, though sporadically.
Thanks, Sarah W., for continuing to show up in my life. And, for allowing me to share your big, slobbery, lovable dogs with my readers. 🙏💛
If you want to contribute to the Moment of Unconditional Love, like Sarah has, you can email photos to me at jeffreyafeldman2015@outlook.com. I’ll work those photos into the weekly mix, and just maybe, share a little something special about you, too.
We write quite differently, which is not to say 'wrong' in either sense. I can appreciate that agony over rewriting and editing and process and then being content, sometimes joyous at the outcome. I tend to wing it, rip out a piece and throw it to the wind and see what catches. As I said, neither wrong, neither right, but that is what makes the world turn, and life worth living.
I don't know if I should say this... as I might be encouraging your perfectionism (!!!) but I have been a professional editor/writer for 30 years and I have a tip for you. Of course, you may do this already. My tip is to print the final version on paper and reread. It's an old-school method but it has value :)