February | 2012 | Cathy C. Hall Writes

Raise your hand if you do this: Feel lousy about the one thing you can’t do well and forget a-l-l-l-l-l-l about the tons of things you do really, really well.

Why do we do that? It doesn’t have to be about our writing, but since we’re all about the writing here, we’ll go with that idea. Just for an example.

So for example, why do we get a critique and immediately zero in on the mistakes rather than the parts of the manuscript where we excel? Why do we beat ourselves up over the writing skill that may be lacking, and completely overlook a-l-l-l-l-l the writing skills we’ve worked hard to accomplish?

Sure, we need to make our corrections. But first, how about we give our writing selves a break? How about we look at that manuscript, or article, or short story, and say, “Wow! I really nailed the _____(fill in the blank with your writing talent__.”

Doesn’t that sound like something fun for this Friday? (Raise your hand if you agree.)

I think of myself as a pretty down-to-earth person. Well, except when I’m in my own little world, writing about wild, little imps and zombies. Possibly Bigfoot–though really, I could be right about Bigfoot. Anyway, the point is, in the real world, I’m sort of a cross between somewhat open-minded and cynical.

So I was not expecting to ever see my sorely-missed but definitely-departed friend. It was such an unusual and intense experience that I wrote down everything I could remember. And when Chicken Soup for the Soul had a call out for stories of “signs from beyond, amazing connections and love that doesn’t die,” I knew I had to send in my story.

I received my copies of Chicken Soup for the Soul Messages from Heaven in the mail last week. And the very first copy went to the husband and daughters of my sorely-missed friend. I think they liked the story, although they sounded a bit teary.

Of course, I understood completely. I can’t read that story without tearing up, even after all these months. Because sometimes, things happen that we can’t explain–and the world, and how we see it, is never quite the same.