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Few things have compared to the astonished delight I felt when I opened the front door to an unexpected ring. A man stood on my front porch clutching a  a Happy 40th Birthday Mylar balloon in the midst of several colorful plain ones. After he determined I was indeed Sharon Lippincott, he confidently stepped into the living room and began singing the Happy Birthday song. Then he handed me the bouquet, bowed, and left. What a sweet surprise! Though the attached card had two names, I knew my sister-in-law had outdone herself, and my gratitude lives on. The standard balloons were dead within a day or two, but that Mylar one seemed destined to live forever. At first I felt a warm glow every time I saw it. But sentimentality didn’t last much longer than the standard balloons. Soon the glamor of that birthday faded. I’d had such hopes that turning forty would magically bring new levels of respect and success, and it didn’t take long to realize that nothing had changed, nor would it, at least ...

There are lots of ways to add energy to your prose. One of the simplest is to break your habit of using puny phrases such as “there are.” How can I rephrase that first sentence to add more power to it? Here are a few of many alternatives: Would you like to add energy to your prose? One of the best ways to add energy to your prose is … Your prose will be  more compelling if you … Readers won’t be able to tear their eyes away when you energize your prose with these simple techniques. A more typical example for lifestory and memoir writers describes a living room: It was painted pale green. There was a sofa along the end wall. It was flanked by end tables . That description reads like a bullet list Let’s try again: End tables flanked the sofa set against the end wall in the pale green living room. I’d like to know more details about the sofa, like it's color and style, but at least this second description artfully combines the bullet-list sentences into a single flowing one.  Ph...

When asked how he went about carving such magnificent statues, Michelangelo is said to have explained that he simply looked at the block of marble, saw the statue within, and chipped away everything that wasn't part of it.  That parable has a lesson for life writers. Most of us have been accustomed to thinking of the task of writing a story as one of creating something from nothing, or transforming intangible memories into a tangible record. We struggle to find the pieces, to find a way of connecting them … writing is hard work, often intimidating and easy to put off.  There is another way to look at it: Life itself is a story, and Story is the operating system our brains use. When you sit down to write a story, that story is already complete, whole and perfect. Your task as the writer is to look at the vast chunk of story encasing the one you propose to tell and chip away everything that isn't part of your perfect story.  The first step in this process is to write an initial d...

I traded posts with Mari L. McCarthy today. Please visit her site to read mine. — Sharon As an advisor in journaling, I emphasize journaling for therapy, or what I call Journaling for the Health of It ™ . I've discovered the extraordinary truth that journal writing can help you accomplish just about anything you want. As I proudly proclaim on my Create Write Now Facebook page, "Daily Journal Writing Therapy to become whole and healthy both inside and out is just about the coolest thing I can think of!" Nonetheless, the actual practice of journaling often involves good old memoir-type writing. Not always, by any means, but at times looking back on your past with your pen in hand can be extraordinarily productive. Since it's the New Year, I'd like to suggest a simple process of reflection that will help you turn again to the future with renewed confidence and faith. First, flipping back through your past, identify the times that stand out as having been exceptional...

I look down the length of my snow covered drive and feel tired at the sight. I’m home alone this week, and the job is all mine, to do or ignore. The drive is 100 feet long, steeply sloping and wide. True, there are only three inches of fluffy snow. True, I could let it go, but it will only get worse if it snows more, which it probably will. True, I don’t have to do the whole thing. Even a little will be an improvement. I have no idea where to begin ... . As you can see from the photo above, I did finish, and in the process, I remembered several important lessons: Let the project tell you how it wants to be done. I paused at the bottom of the steps and listened. to my inner sense of things and to the driveway.“First things first,” I heard. “Shovel along the side so you can at least get down to the mailbox.” I did that. Then I heard “Do one scrape across the middle right there.” The next instruction was Now work your way down almost to the street. You can manage that.” Yes. I could manag...

Flash #1 A few weeks ago on her Writing Through Life blog Amber Starfire invited readers to join her in an experiment beginning TODAY . She’s asking people to journal for one week on the computer, one week by hand, and one week both ways. We’ll report back on our experiences, and why we prefer one way or the other. Click here to read more about it and sign up, and subscribe to her blog to stay tuned for reports on this research along with totally terrific tips on journaling. Flash #2 I am offering Writing for the Health of It as a teleclass, beginning on January 18. This class is sponsored by Story Circle Network . Sign up and learn about exciting research results showing how five main modes of life writing work together to improve both physical and emotional health. Details are here . If you’re interested, don’t delay — only a couple of spots remain. Story Circle classes are open only to women. I’ll be posting information about future dates and study options on my main web...

In a frenzy of activity to clear my space for the New Year, I whip out my dust rag and go to work in the living room. How I'd like to get rid of this clutter, I think, dusting away. For a moment I seriously entertain the thought of getting a big box from the garage and … what? That thought stymies me. What could I do with this stuff? I ponder the hand thrown pottery vase. Mother gave me that for my birthday one year. It's gorgeous. It's exactly the kind of pottery I most love, natural earth colors. I feel the potter's love each time I glance at it. I feel connected to earth and to Mother. She's long gone, but her spirit lingers in that vase. Likewise with the pewter-washed copper candelabra next to it. It's a cunningly crafted item, old, hand-worked, slightly off-balance. I don't even remember when I got that. Did she give it to me, or was it part of the loot I scored when Daddy cleared out her stuff? I recall that trip, packing boxes, stabbed with the knife...