An Aspiring Author's Poem
A writer, on writing! This
is a very popular genre, did you know? This poem is by a very talented
writer whose work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Huffington Post Chicago, Imperfect Parent, Cup of Comfort for New Mothers, Washington Post Online, and various others. She is working on her first novel and you can read more (including this fantastic poem!) at http://amysuenathan.com/
An Aspiring Author's Poem
By Amy Sue Nathan
I read a book I didn't like,
gave it to a writer-friend,
She didn't like it either,
neither made it to the end.
We both enjoyed the prologue,
then it fell apart,
We dug deep to understand
and prayed to find some heart.
We spoke of missing cadence,
of light and fluffy prose,
Was there a thread we both had missed?
Still, neither of us knows.
The lesson in the book we closed,
was as strong as any other,
How we would like our own work read,
and to be unlike another.
So when an author drops a thread,
I learn to pick up mine.
If I read too many words,
I learn how to refine.
When characters do not ring true,
Or dialogue is stilted,
My own mistakes jump off the page,
and my loves are often jilted.
We pushed the book aside that day,
continued with our lunch,
But in our sad agreement
was a buried hunch.
Only with a writer can the worst book
in a while,
be the source of conversation,
a lesson and a smile.
An Aspiring Author's Poem
By Amy Sue Nathan
I read a book I didn't like,
gave it to a writer-friend,
She didn't like it either,
neither made it to the end.
We both enjoyed the prologue,
then it fell apart,
We dug deep to understand
and prayed to find some heart.
We spoke of missing cadence,
of light and fluffy prose,
Was there a thread we both had missed?
Still, neither of us knows.
The lesson in the book we closed,
was as strong as any other,
How we would like our own work read,
and to be unlike another.
So when an author drops a thread,
I learn to pick up mine.
If I read too many words,
I learn how to refine.
When characters do not ring true,
Or dialogue is stilted,
My own mistakes jump off the page,
and my loves are often jilted.
We pushed the book aside that day,
continued with our lunch,
But in our sad agreement
was a buried hunch.
Only with a writer can the worst book
in a while,
be the source of conversation,
a lesson and a smile.
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