Author: Judy L Mohr

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Can’t is an evil word… It shouldn’t exist.

The word can't is a word that needs to disappear from people's vocabulary. It's an evil word, on so many levels.

But for me, the word can't is a challenge that my brain subconsciously accepts, for good or bad. If I hear the word can't, my brain goes, "Watch me!"

Most of the time, it's a good thing, because it's not about focusing on limits, but accepting that the solution on how to do something will be made up of strategies that might be a bit oddball. But everything can be done, even if we don't know how. However, there have been times when I heard that horrible little word, and I got myself into big trouble.

"You can't get lost." And it wasn't just a 2-hours drive in the wrong direction. I totaled the boss's car.

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The “Was” Edit

When editing a manuscript, one should always be looking at ways to tighten the writing and language used. There are many tricks that one can employ. One of my favorite ways is to do what is known as a "Was" edit.

This editing technique is incredibly simple. Search for every instance of is/are/was/were and ask yourself if can you reword that sentence to remove that instance of was-type words.

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My Mother at Butterfly Creek

Letter to my mother…

When my mother was still alive, there were times that I could guarantee that she felt under appreciated. And it was always worse come Mother's Day.

Let's face it. I rarely called, and when I did, the conversations were not something that I wanted to stay engaged for—not for hours on end. And I never visited. For many years, she lived in Auckland while I lived in Christchurch. She and dad did eventually move to the South Island, but even then, it was a 3-hour drive away. It took planning... and I sucked at it. (I still suck at that particular side of things with dad, rarely seeing him.) And I never sent presents or cards.

But I loved my mother dearly. She had such an influence on the way I see the world. One of her many sayings pops into my head on a daily basis. She was always in my thoughts, even if I don't tell her that.

This letter was my pathetic attempt to tell my mother how much she meant to me.

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