Losing a Beloved Critique Partner
By Sarah Callender | June 13, 2018 |
I lost my critique partner, Janna, two weeks ago. She did not die. She did not break up with me. She did not quit writing. No, Janna literally sailed off into the sunset with her husband and two middle school age daughters on what will be a three-year sailing adventure.
I am very mad at her.
Sure, she tells me we’ll still chat, that we’ll still be able to read each other’s work. But really? I’m going to ask her to read half of my novel as she is navigating fifty-mile ice floes and skinny-hungry polar bears in the Northwest Passage? She’s going to want to read my stuff as she homeschools her daughters and boils water for not-frigid sponge-baths? She’s going to help me identify my plot issues while she’s trying to sail very quickly away from squalls and pirates?
Arrrrgh! Me thinks not.
For the record, I am aware of how pathetic I sound. I hope she is too busy navigating skinny polar bears to read this.
I met Janna in 2001, the same year I started seriously writing fiction. We hit it off right away, but I wasn’t looking for a writing partner, and she wasn’t yet interested in dating writing seriously, so we muddled along as friendly colleagues and then as long-distance friends when she and her husband took a two-and-a-half year honeymoon, cruising the South Pacific on a very small sailboat.
In 2005, Janna started writing chapters of what would be her memoir. At this point, she asked me and two other writer friends if we’d ever want to, you know, exchange phone numbers chunks of our writing and offer feedback to one another.
That went on for a while before the other two writers fell away, and Janna and I found it was just the two of us, shyly blinking at each other, hoping the other would want to be monogamous. And then somehow we did become monogamous! I don’t remember how that happened because my memory is ridiculous, but it happened!
Around that same time, I heard an NPR interview with Ann Patchett and Elizabeth McCracken, discussing their “First Reader” relationship. Patchett explains,
I write for myself first and foremost. And then I write for Elizabeth, and then really nobody after that because while I’m in the process of writing, we’re the only two people I could even imagine reading the work.
I remember feeling startled that Patchett and McCracken were so reliant on each other. What happened if something happened to McCracken? Would Patchett have to stop writing? What if something happened to Patchett? Would McCracken have to stop writing?
What would happen to me if something happened to Janna? Equally important, what would happen to her if something happened to me?
It seemed too risky to put that much faith and trust into a relationship. It seemed crazy and dangerous. Like putting oneself quite close to ice floes and pirates and polar bears.
Shortly after we said our vows became monogamous critique partners, Janna got herself a fabulous agent, got a book deal and, in 2008, published a memoir. While she did that, I wrote thousands of pages of unusable junk, plus (with Janna’s help) a few hundred decent pages that would eventually turn into Book #1.
Janna never left my side. She cheered me on and held my hand as my own fabulous agent pitched Book #1. She consoled me as the millions of encouraging rejections from publishers came rolling in.
She fed me ice chips and administered the epidural through my writing of Book #2 and played cheerleader as millions more encouraging rejections came rolling in.
Now, as I am finishing Book #3, Janna continues to patiently read my work even though I must look like that stuck-inside-the-house housefly, hurling its body against the bay window over and over as it attempts to find its way outside.
At least that’s what Janna was doing. And then she sailed away.
Of course, I knew who and what she was when I married her partnered up with her. Deep, deep down, like 20,000 leagues down, I knew Janna was not someone who could ever stay put, geographically, forever.
But for a while, I thought maybe I could change her, that the longer she and I were writing partners, the more she’d realize it was stupid and uncomfortable to sail all over tarnation, that it was much smarter to live in a house that wouldn’t get chased by pirates. I thought she’d see that the word “landlubber,” had a much sexier ring than “cruising globetrotter.”
Aye, what a squiffy lass I was t’ reckon that!
When I have tried to explain to my husband and my not-writer friends why I feel so adrift without Janna, when I articulate why I would be lying fetal in the middle of an indie bookstore Amazon’s warehouse without Janna’s words of wisdom, I can tell these not-writers just don’t get it.
But Ann Patchett and Elizabeth McCracken do. I bet many of you lovelies do too.
We must search for these beloved beta readers, critique partners and cheerleaders because we need people who coax our best work from us, who encourage us to keep going, to keep honing, to keep improving our stories. And our writing partners need us to do the same for them.
It’s hard to find a partner who is the holy trinity: beta reader, critique partner and cheerleader, but I lucked out when I started working with Janna.
Which is why I’m so mad at her for leaving.
But then! Just the other day, I received a text from her.
I think we need to schedule a phone call just bc we can. When is good for youse? Tomorrow or Friday? I’ll call you. If I don’t it means I don’t have service but I suspect I will!
At the appointed hour, I waited nervously by my charging cell phone.
And then it rang! Janna and I talked about her stuff and my stuff, and it was like she was just a few puny blocks away. Only she had the view of dolphins swimming alongside her boat, and I had the view of my houseplants that needed watering and my windows that needed washing. Otherwise, things felt no different.
Until mid conversation, Janna interrupted herself. “Crap!” she said. “Wind’spickingupI’llcallyouback.”
Yes. The wind was picking up. She needed to help her husband and daughters sail their home up the Canadian coast. And I needed to Windex my windows.
But true to her word, sure enough, after just a matter of minutes, Janna did call back. Right after the wind died down. After my windows were again clear and clean enough to see the peonies in our front yard opening to receive the warmth of Seattle springtime sunshine. It’s really no only a little different having her gone. And I know this to be true: Me matey will return afore I know it.
Your turn! What positive experiences have you had with a beta reader or a critique partner and why was it so positive? Or, why did a beta reader or critique partner relationship not work out so well? Where or how did you meet your critique partner? Sailing through the Northwest Passage: dream or nightmare? And last but not least, do ye ‘ave a fav’rit pirate sayin’?
Thank you, devoted WU community, for reading and commenting. You are an invaluable part of my support team.
And, if you want to experience the cruising life from the comfort of your sofa, follow Janna’s blog.
Polar bear photo compliments of Flickr’s Smudge 9000.
[coffee]
A Middle Grade novelist (and Middle School English teacher), Sarah Callender lives in Seattle with her family. Because Sarah dislikes cleaning anything that will just get messy again, she tidies the house and weeds the yard only when absolutely necessary. This allows her time to focus on her true–and somewhat fraught–passions: writing, Abe Lincoln, and Tony’s Chocolonely chocolate bars. Equally passionate about mental health advocacy, Sarah is a member of The Stability Network. Sarah’s first novel, LUCY IN BETWEEN, will be published by Margaret Ferguson Books/Holiday House in 2026.
Sarah, this was fabulous and painfully relatable. I met my critique partner-in-chief at a Meetup writers’ group for women. It wasn’t a good fit for either of us, so we broke off and started meeting just the two of us. This writing relationship has been going on upwards of 7 years now. We meet twice a week and after an hour therapy session on life, we get down to business. I don’t know how I could write without her and yet, and yet, we’re both facing possible moves in the not-to-distant future. Your post gives me hope that even if we’re on opposite ends of the country, even opposite ends of the world, our partnership will endure. Here’s hoping your relationship with your wandering writer will continue as well.
Oh my gosh, Densie. Thank you for the empathy! And yes, even before Janna hit the road/ocean, she moved from Seattle to Bainbridge Island (just a ferry ride away from Seattle) about a year ago. I was even worried about that! But it turned out to be 100% fine. We’d either find a place to meet in the middle, or we’d Skype or do a phone chat. While nothing compares to face-to-face, technology makes all the different. If your partner has at least a landline 😊 you’ll be just fine.
But I do understand. It’s a unique relationship … and I love your “how we met” story. It’s impossible to replicate. And I haven’t heard from Janna is four days so of course I’m assuming “polar bear attack.” Just kidding. Kind of. Not really.
Thanks, Densie, for sharing your words here! Everything will be just fine … just different.
Pirates?
Ahem. Well, um, funny about that. I am looking for a critique partner too. After twenty published books you wouldn’t think that would be so hard to find, would you? Still.
I hasten to add that I am married. Anyone looking for that other kind of partner should swipe left. And…I hesitate to say this…I am a lifelong sailor. However, I do not own a boat or any longer cruise or race. I got that out of my system. Besides, my wife and kids get seasick.
My current fiction is literary/commercial. There’s a precise category for you. My WIP is one I’m writing non-sequentially. There are gem-like scenes and gaping holes. I’ll bet that’s shocking. Still, anyone who likes jigsaw puzzles should enjoy anticipating how my fragments will fit together. I do have a grand plan, though. I want kids…sorry, what I mean to say is that I do have an overall narrative structure and intent in mind.
Not that I am suggesting an hour at a wine bar. No, no. Please. I’m just saying. You are not the only one feeling cast adrift. It’s brutal out there on the critique partner scene. Needle in a haystack. Diamond in the sand. I understand how you feel.
One further thought: I suspect your ocean-crossing critique partner misses you as much as you miss her. I hope her squalls and water spouts are few and that the clear-sky, twelve-knot-breeze days are many. For both of you.
This is the best, Benjamin. Thank you for the giggles. And yes! When Janna had to get off the phone, there was an eleven-knot breeze kicking up. Oy. I don’t even know what that means, but oy. I probably should have taken out a life insurance policy for Janna.
Thank you for your empathy too. It really is so tough to find that right match. Years ago, I was in a critique group with six people, and it was dysfunction-junction! One of the people had serious anger issues and the others hated my writing (or loved their own too much to want to help with mine). Not a good fit. But I didn’t have anything to compare it to. And now I do.
I am now singing Matchmaker, matchmaker make me a match, find me a find, catch me a catch. I wish for you the perfect match. Keep us posted!
And for now, sow your wild oats. 🙃
A five knot breeze is light. Boat don’t go too fast. A fifteen knot breeze is lively. Boat heels over on its side. Crew scrambles to windward.
Eight to twelve knots is ideal, ask me. Smooth sailing.
My deepest sympathy for your (perceived) loss.
I lost my own writing partner long before we published, but because we were not writing in a way that we needed that kind of feedback. We’d get together, read each other’s pages, get some valuable time off and girl talk – but not comment on the writing.
We’re still the best of friends. I think I got too confident of my own choices at the same time she felt that way about hers – and we had stopped feeding back because it just didn’t work. Curiously, it could have been my decision to self-publish – while she’s still firmly in the traditional camp – that finished the writing part of the relationship. I lost the ability to listen to tales of woe about agents (she got one, the agent died!) and submissions, and she had no interest in my formatting problems.
So, rather than let all that damage our personal relationship, we let the writing part go – and are each other’s ardent supporter still.
Our lunches are great. Did you have those?
Glad you still have what you need.
This is beautiful, Alicia. Thank you!
I was just talking to a not-writer friend about how, even in our late forties, friendships can be complicated. They can also evolve (or devolve) over time. As you know! I love that your partnership did change into something that really works. It reminds me of the way some of my friendships with other moms evolved when their kids when to private school and my own went to public school. It sounds funny, but that kind of thing (like self publishing vs. traditional publishing) can force some distance.
I hope you have been able to find your tribe of supporters elsewhere? I know you are a gem! Thank you for sharing. Happy formatting, dear Alicia.
I might still be looking for representation except for one thing: with markets shrinking, I am pretty sure that I could not entice it with a main character (of 3) with a chronic illness. I feared the dreaded, “Well written – but not for us right now,” response I’ve received before, when the main character in my mystery novel was a young Mexican-American woman engineer.
Supporters come slowly for indie mainstream writers, but some of the reviews have been amazing. I’ll find the tribe; not sure when. Meanwhile, I’m working on the second book in the trilogy.
Sarah, you made me laugh and cry all at once. I miss a couple of my writing partners something fierce. But I’ve discovered that distance does not make the heart grow fonder, but rather forgetful. You’re lucky that Janna makes phone calls. I *hate* talking on the phone. You need to reel her in with a juicy steak–she’ll be sick of salmon after a few months.
Thank you for this beautiful essay and I hope Janna has internet in those chilly waters she’s navigating with her family to read this. Wishing you both a safe journey and into the safe harbor of each others’ arms.
Oh, this is beautiful, Vijaya. Thank you! And your comment about steak vs. salmon made me laugh. Janna’s husband doesn’t eat meat but she LOVES a good steak. You’re right … I wasn’t able to change her, but maybe her longing for a burger will bring her home sooner than expected.
I love the point you raise about phone “meetings.” I hadn’t thought about that–the problem that can arise when one form of communication isn’t as satisfying for all involved. I hope that you’ve been able to find someone new … or that you are peacefully and successfully humming along solo. I know you are a fabulous and committed critique partner. Anyone would be so fortunate to be your mate.
Thank you, as always, for your beautiful words!
❤️
Thank you Sarah. And I do have one writing partner here in SC who is a gem and I’m building my writing community here by mentoring others.
This is so sweet and sad. To have loved and lost…etc.
I am not monogamous, though I might like to be. I exchange with different people for different projects. But I would love to find a Janna, a writing soulmate, a completely symbiotic relationship, forsaking all others.
I loved this, Erin. Thank you for making me laugh. I do think it’s great that you can date a bunch of people at once. As we know, it’s hard to find a partner that can satisfy all of our needs. 😬
Happy dating! I’ll live vicariously through you and your escapades.
Finding a trusted friend who knows what you are striving for, knows good from bad, and knows how to tell you which is which, is a gift beyond price.
Amen to that, Ed! If I had a dollar for every time I texted Janna this message: WWIDWY? I would have a billion dollars.
It’s all about the trust right? I think there has to be at least one person who will always tell me the truth about my writing. It’s just so tough to be objective, and so difficult to always trust myself and my stories.
Thank you for your comment. Happy writing to you!
I laughed and cried reading this. Decades ago, I met my *dream* CP. We were both green/newbies, attending a writing conference for the first time. We started talking, found we were both on the same wavelength on all things writing and life – and *poof* we became best-writing-friends. (At that time neither of us knew other writers, so having someone to hold hands with while navigating the dark publishing alleyways was wonderful.) We began exchanging work, attended many more writing conferences and even did some co-writing. We’d spend hours on the phone discussing writing, publishing and WIPs, plus spent many weekends at each other’s houses. We could finish each other’s sentences and had equally thick skin so we could critique honestly but always with the sense of making the work better. And geez, were we masterful brainstormers! While one novel we co-wrote finalled in the RWA Golden Heart, we both went on to publish individually. Unfortunately, life things happened, we both took breaks from writing…and while I’m back in the writing saddle, she’s not. :( For a while, it felt crippling to write without her – but that’s gotten better with time. We still keep in touch, but not as often. I’ve tried a few writing groups, but I prefer to critique one-to-one. That said, a group can satisfy the need to be in the company of other writers. Sarah, I hope you and your friend sail through this period swiftly.
Oh, Kathy. This really can feel crippling! It’s a relationship like no other, and I’m so sorry that things have shifted in her writing life (and therefore in yours).
Do you think she’ll ever go back to writing? You (and she) are clearly gifted and dedicated … I wonder if she’ll get the itch again. I suppose some writers step away and never return, but she was really in deep.
Thank you for your empathy and your well wishes. I’m sending you the same!
xo!
Will she ever go back? After all this time, I’m guessing no and hoping I’m wrong. ;) Thanks for such a timely post, Sarah. Onward and upward, eh?
Yes. Always onward and upward! :)
Sarah, I’ve been waiting for your prose, for your sense of humor, for you realistic take on life–and here it all is, and yet I won’t weep for you, because though you might then feel sad, your smart, on-point brain will come right back for a reason not to. Write, Woman. And if I was blessed with a CP like you, my windows would never feel a cold stream of Windex. My cell phone would be on speed dial, though I don’t think that’s a thing. I’m a lonely writer. So think of it this way, like I do–every word you create is your friend. Well, mostly. Beth
I love this comment, Beth. And I have been thinking about this idea all day … that our words are our friends. I love that. It makes me want to treat them more tenderly instead of saying not-so-nice things to them. :)
Are you a lonely writer or an alone writer? It certainly is a lonely gig–that’s just one of many reasons I love you and WU! Thank you for your always thoughtful and joyful words, Beth.
Thanks for this, Sarah. I’m not lonely. Not at all. I love writing, it’s my drug of choice!! I’m here any time you need me, Beth
Ha, absolutely! I feel exactly the same (about drug of choice and being here for you). 😊
Sarah, thanks much for this unique entertainment. I laughed; I cried; I sympathized. My writing partner is a phone call away and a never-failing source of encouragement. I hope I am the same for her.
Meanwhile, I feel a cartoon coming on. It shows a skinny polar bear with a patch over one eye and a parrot on what passes for a polar bear’s shoulder. The parrot is cleverly doing the parrot shuffle with its feet to stay away from the polar bear’s jaws.
Anna! I can just picture the parrot’s expression … are you an artist? If so, get on it! If not, fake it! I’m so glad you have a critique partner who’s a keeper. It’s invaluable, no?
(After you draw the cartoon, you should probably start drafting a children’s picture book story to go along with it.)
Happy writing!
HI Sarah,
you are so blessed to still have your writing partner a phone call and email away. I lost mine when he climbed a mountain and didn’t come back. I felt adrift for a very long time, terrified I wouldn’t be able to continue a novel he so heavily influenced. As I edit now, I ask myself, “What would John say?” I recently attended a workshop and found a new critique partner. Although different from John, she offers insights I need and appreciate. I continue to strive to meet other writers and find other members of my “tribe.”
Debra
Debra. I wish you could have heard my gasp when I read your words. I am so sorry. What a huge and horrible loss. It’s heartbreaking.
How long ago did this happen? And how long did it take you to start writing again? I know having John’s voice in your head isn’t at all the same as having his actual voice commenting on your work, but I love that you can still read with his eye. Still, I’m so sorry to hear about this tragedy.
You are brave! And I love that you have taken the plunge and started working with a different-but-valuable partner. You really inspire me. Thank you for sharing, sweet Debra.
What a delightful post, Sarah. Not for you, of course, as I could feel the pain of your feelings about your sailing-away writing partner, but much of it made me smile.
Avast ye Mateys, er you’ll be dancing the hempen jig.
The closest I’ve had to a single writing critique partner is my friend Laura Castoro. We met early in he career, just after she sold her first historical novel to Dell, and we laughed that it took longer for the book to come out than to have a baby. We both belonged to a small writers’ group and lived near each other, so we became close friends. She went on to publish many more books before I published my first fiction, but she was always encouraging me and supporting me, and I may not have persevered had it not been for her having my back. We are still good friends, but we don’t exchange work to read.
In the years since I have been writing more than just feature stories and columns – and I won’t say how many years – I have belonged to two great critique groups. The one in which I met Laura, and another in Omaha, NE, where I met some writers who knew how to give the best kind of feedback. We didn’t have rules in either group, but we had one major guideline. Point out what worked in the scene or story, then point out what did not, and BE KIND
Out of the NE group, I have stayed in contact with a published author, Cathy Richmond, and she has been a good beta reader. We are also support partners, helping each other with marketing.
Currently, I don’t have a writers’ group or critique partner, and I am looking for one or both.
Dear Maryann,
I do not know what the hempen jig is, but I do know I would love it! I’ll see if YouTube can teach me.
And thank you for all of these details … I think it’s great for others to see how these relationships can come and go, or at least morph into slightly different relationships. That’s comforting to know. We are (ideally) always growing and changing and needing different things at various stages. It makes sense that we would seek and need a variety of writing partners as long as they are constructive, encouraging and kind. If only all humans adopted those guidelines!
Thanks for sharing the details of your writing journey. I don’t know anyone’s whose is short and straight (and if I did, I probably wouldn’t like her very much). :)
Happy searching, Maryann!
I always enjoy your essays, Sarah. This one is a gem, and I think you are lucky to have found an enduring friendship with your critique partner.
Other than the not-so-wonderful critique sessions I experienced in college creative writing classes, I have never been in any kind of critique group or had a partner. Finding the right match seems key!
Thank you, dear S.K. I am lucky and you are right … it’s all about the right match. Reading your comment made me realize that, I think, college made me shy away from critique groups. There was never enough humility or good listening going on. And so much stubbornness! And everyone thought they were so awesome. It was scary and exhausting. And I felt the opposite of awesome.
I wonder where all of those awesome people are these days …
Happy writing, Ms. S.K. Thanks so much for your encouragement.
Sarah, I’m mad at Janna too. I hope she gets chapped lips. But I hope even more you guys will be able to find a way to work between the waves, or maybe find a simpatico stand-in sailor who’s in port now. Not easy, I know. I haven’t had a lot of writing partners, but right now I’m yet again doing a “final” (clouds and cats laugh) edit on a collaborative novel with a pal of mine I met online years ago.
I edited his first novel, and years later (and for a couple of years in the work, sigh) we labored together on our spectacularly unpublished current novel, and the exchanges, insights and painful puns have been gratifying and educational.
Thanks for a post that averages at least two smiles and 1.5 nods of the head every paragraph.
Oh, my favorite pirate saying is “I understand the Beef Bourguignon is quite good here.”
We should start a We’re Mad at Janna club. I’ll make signs. The problem is, Janna is really hard to be mad at for more than a few seconds. It can be a brief club and then we can all go out, Janna included, and play shuffleboard and make smoothies.
Spectacularly Unpublished. That’s what I am! I bet I can find someone who will make me a t-shirt that says that very thing.
You’re a peach. And the pirates that live in your parts are very polite and sophisticated. They must be the kind that fled Sausalito and headed inland where life is simpler and beef is so ,much better.
Thank you, Tom. Happy writing.
I confess to something weird here. I saw the title of the post in my inbox “Losing a Beloved Critique Partner” and thought maybe it would bring me words of comfort or inspiration. You see, I lost my dog yesterday. For real. And although it seems very strange to want to click on a post about a critique partner, today I’ll take my solace where I can find it.
Instead, you made me smile and for a brief time took me out of my grief. It is a great post and I thank you for the distraction. And when I am in a different head space I will read it again and remember that I could definitely use a critique partner if I’m ever going to get my memoir off the ground.
Deborah. I am so sorry for the loss of your dear pup. Dogs are as much a part of the family (and sometimes even more so) than human family members, and I know the hole must feel terribly huge. Your house must be so quiet too. :(
We got a pup three years ago, and I think I tell him I love him about fifty times a day. I might also tell him (in a quiet voice) that he is my favorite family member. And I am terrified that he will, someday, die. There is nothing–nothing–better than a dog. All this to say … I feel big sadness for what you must be going through. Here’s a big, empathetic hug!
Thank you for taking the time to comment.
❤️🌈❤️
:)
Thank you, Sarah. I hugged her and told her I loved her all the time too and that she was my best girl ever. We have another rescue, who was approx. 12 when we rescued him, a terrier mix with cataracts and three legs, who is such a comfort to us now, but yes, the house is very quiet. Cisco is now 13 and I tell him constantly how much I love him and he better have lots more years left in him because I can’t go through this again so soon. I will never stop rescuing dogs, but it tears your heart out to lose them, the price of the unconditional love and joy they bring to our lives.
I’m very much looking forward to reading your books when they are published, and I have no doubt they will be. Your voice is funny and quirky and wholly relatable (if we can still use that word).
Oh, you are a saint. My sister rescued a blind dog with various other special needs … and the gifts he gives her are abundant. Your pups are so lucky to have found you (and vice versa). My nose just started tingling because pre-crying, but I pulled myself together. :)
I will be thinking of you!
And thank you for the sweet words of encouragement. Write that memoir of yours!
I read the first couple of lines and cheered “Sarah’s back!!” I love your writing. I’m glad you and your partner are able to maintain your relationship across the oceans. I made the hard decision to leave my critique group–four insightful creative women. But I was discouraged with myself, impatient, tired of discussing. After working solo for a year, I’m preparing the ARC of my middle grade novel to self-publish (I still cringe when I write that word, but it’s now or never). Always looking forward to your next post as soon as I finish your current one! Mary
Thank you, Mary! But why do you cringe? I think that’s fabulous! I have finally realized, after all of these years, that I am a middle grade writer. I’m not sure why it took me so long to realize that, but now that I have, I am having so much fun.
It sounds like it was a good decision to part ways … has it been OK on your own? Clearly you have been productive! Let me know when you have your book all ready to go. :)
Thank YOU for sharing. No more cringing from you.
xo,
s
I enjoyed reading your humorous tale–so glad it had a happy ending. I enjoyed it so much that I felt compelled to share my own.
As a writer with dyslexia, you probably can understand how heavily I lean on my beta readers, critique group, cheerleaders.
When I fell in love with writing (in my teens), my mom was my cheerleader. She weeded out the misspellings and the grammar errors like a pro.
When I became serious about writing, I was blessed to find a writing group. When that group folded I found another one. Now that that group is no more I work with a skilled beta reader–who is much more than a mere beta reader.
Each step along this journey I thought, oh, no, if I lose her (them), that’s it I’ll never be able to write again. Never.
But I’m slowly starting to realizing that, when in need, the wonderous, amazing universe delivers.
Keep writing and keep the faith.
Oh my gosh, Leanne, I completely agree that we are given what we need (and who we need) when we need it. That’s not to say that it’s easy to go through these transitions, but good things happen when we are on a good path.
Thank you for sharing. And I LOVE that you are a writer who has dyslexia. What an inspiration you are to me … have you found ways to be an encouragement and inspiration to others with dyslexia? I hope so.
Happy writing to you, and thank you for sharing this wisdom.
😊
I haven’t read all of the above comments but they seem mostly pretty inspiring and happy endingish. My story is a bit different. My dearest friends (a couple) and skilled readers moved across the world (everywhere is across the world when you live in Hawaii) for his job and for other reasons. They were the glue that held our writing group together as well as the founders of the Kauai Writers Conference. In one fell swoop I lost dear friends, readers, writing group and the group of us who formed the Kauai Writers Conference committee. That kind of leadership is not easy to find. Maybe everything happens for a reason. Maybe not. But what I’ve learned is that you can find a solution for everything that happens. Mine is, get to work and write, write, write. The friends, readers and writing group will show up right on time and the conference is being done by others and frees my time up to write (how we all complained about the time required to develop the conference and how none of us had time to write.) Meanwhile, I’m halfway through my second draft and steaming ahead, open to all things possible. By the way, the conference lineup looks fantastic for November. Check it out. Thanks for a great post, Sarah.