If you need a boost of confidence for your writing life, tune in to Irene Latham. She has started a Tuesday series on YouTube called “2-Minute Writing Tip Tuesday”. On her website, she has a quiz “What Kind of Writer Are You?” Take a minute to take the test for yourself. I did it twice and both times…
If you’re a Wolf, then you can stop trying to write highly personal essays that don’t feel natural to you. That’s not your strong suit. Write the fun thing, the thing you know your audience will love!
You can stretch yourself by taking time away from your community for rest and reflection. Give yourself an opportunity to develop new ideas before jumping into the next new, exciting thing.
Go ahead, give the world something to howl about!
Who doesn’t love a wolf writer! My favorite part of this is “You’re a great starter AND a great teacher!” I know it’s silly to be so excited to find out I am who I want to be. In fact, my One Little Word this year is Enough. I somehow knew it was time to stop questioning myself, my authenticity, my ability to connect people through writing. But it’s kinda fun to take these silly quizzes and find affirmation.
What kind of writer are you? What kind of writer do you want to be?
I participated in a few of the prompts in Ethical ELA Open Write this week. I wrote this poem using paint chip colors. (guacamole, candlelit beige, vining ivy, ancient copper)
Some Days it’s Enough to Wake Up
Finding my fingers
dipped–
green like guacamole–
in the soil of my life.You place a candle on the table,
a small flicker of light
blessing the moment,
like vining ivy on a brick wall
tangles in on itself but never falls.We are becoming
ancient copper,
stained hands
that have worked too long
in this soil.We woke up alive today.
Margaret Simon, draft
That’s enough
for now.
Reflections on the Teche 
Absolutely beautiful poem. Your work is always soulful. “…stained hands/ that have worked too long/ in this soil. Your OLW is Enough. Mine is Abundance, and I find abundance in this poem. I took the “What Kind of Writer Are You?” quiz twice, answering once with my heart and once with my head (being honest about my daily habits right now). With my heart, I am a spider; with my head, I am a worker bee. Both seemed appropriate, and I am happy to fall somewhere in between. Not as majestic as a wolf, though! Thanks for sharing this abundance today.
I see your worker bee writer on social media and ask myself “should I be doing that?” It’s one of those things I need to get braver about. Your brave (and abundance) is inspiring!
I’m a wolf, too! I love that we’re in the same PF pack!
Your poem resonates so much, Margaret, especially the lines
“We woke up alive today.
That’s enough
for now.”
So true on so many days as of late. 🙂
Oh my gosh – I love this. Your poem is so powerful! Can I come and have tea with you? Amazing. Thank you!
I just bought Illuminate and Blessen. Can’t wait to read them!
Thanks!
Me again! I just took the quiz – I’m a whale! Thanks for the connections – I get so much from other people’s ideas!
I loved your first stanza so much I kept rereading it. I didn’t want to leave it, but the rest of the poem offered even more to think about.
“Finding my fingers
dipped–
green like guacamole–
in the soil of my life.”
When I took the quiz I came out a whale. At first I wasn’t sure that fit me, but there must be something in there I should pay attention to.
Irene is a whale too. So yes something’s there.
Writing from paint chips brings so much flavor into your poem, Margaret. Not many can make ‘guacamole’ taste in a new way! I think you are a wolf, and have always loved what you share, from yourself & with your students. This “enough” is so special.
Apparently I am a worker bee… hmm, I guess that means I should be working more? Love the way you worked in the paint chip colors… and enough!
Sometime when I take these kinds of tests, I answer with what I think I should rather than where I am at the moment. Thanks for buzzing around this hive!
Wonderful! I usually catch up with my yahoo videos on the weekends…and here I am. So, I can’t wait to take the quiz. Love how the quiz affirmed you and your word for ’22 and informed this beautiful poem of luscious images…those green fingers and ancient copper…blessing…candle. All so wonderful and strong. Whoo hooo! There’s my howl.
Paint chip poetry is always fun. You’ve woven your colors into your poem so naturally. I love your final stanzas. Knowing when to say “Enough” isn’t my strong suit, so this is a good reminder for me. Thank you!
It’s beautiful to get confirmation that you are who you want to be, Wolf Margaret! Your ivy grows where it will, confident that it will never fall. Did Laura (Shovan) have a month of paint chip colors? Your poem is making a little memory bell ring.
It was one of her first years. Pantone colors?
You are definitely a wolf! I LOVE the ending of your poem. (Time to get my paint chip poetry box out!!)
I, you, we–I like how this one grew like vining ivy towards enough. I turn out to be a wolf too, which doesn’t feel quite right–I WANT to write “highly personal essays that” DO “feel natural to you”! But I agree that you really are a wolf type. Very nice post, Margaret.
I feel your teacher/mother wolf is howling for you. Highly personal can often be deeply universal.
What a rich and fun post Margaret! I love the metaphors in your poem particularly in the first stanza. And how right your “enough” feels at the end–thanks for this deep breath and ending with a warm glow, lovey!
Your one word holds such depth and you used it to summarize your thoughts in this lovely poem, Margaret. Everything you do dips into the soil of your personal and professional lives. Margaret, I personally do not think you have to question yourself and your authenticity. Your work has always been stellar.
Thanks, Carol. I think it’s a part of the creative soul to question. I appreciate your support.
In that regard, you are correct.
Yes, some days that is enough. Ruth, thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
Beautiful, Margaret. You, and your words, are enough. (I especially loved that tangle of vining ivy that never falls.)