I shared a very touching moment yesterday. I belong to a writers group that meets at our local library on Monday afternoons. The core group of about a dozen members includes high school kids to retirees.
Two weeks ago (we didn't meet last week because of Memorial Day) one of the older ladies read a poem she had written, and I based a blog on an idea that I got from the poem.
In my article, I quoted two verses from the poem. My main concern was that she might be put out because I used her material without asking first. After the group broke up, the woman came up to me and proceeded to tell me how much it meant to her as a person and a writer that her words had an impact on another person and writer, particularly one of my "ah-hem" caliber.
It never occurred to me how proud and happy I made her. We talked about how a writer most often never knows how something they've written may affect other people. That's the true motivation and inspiration that gets a writer up in the morning to keep making these strange little marks on a blank piece of paper.
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