Quiet Reassurance

It was 1:30 a.m. as I shut down my computer. I had completed a mammoth writing project and was finally headed to bed. It had been a crazy week of juggling—well, everything.

/writing-essentials/”>Writing Essentials.

Problem: My brain wouldn’t turn off. It kept hashing out, in gerbil-on-a-wheel mode, ways I could or should have:

  • communicated my point better in that article
  • added this and that to my grocery list
  • picked up from the library what I needed for my next project
  • gotten to all my errands
  • completed that project due in two days
  • followed up on those phone calls for that other project

And, oh yeah, our church small group is tomorrow night. At our house. Our messy house. Groan.

My husband took my hand. “What’s wrong?”

“I just— It’s all— Tell me a story.”

“A story? Really? Why?”

“I just need a story.”

“What kind?”

“A happy one. Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet live through the blustery day.”

In the craziness of deadlines, pitching ideas, interviewing, and creating articles and stories, I often forget that my writing exists to meet a need. To give hope. To provide an escape. To tell a story.

Writing needs to be reader focused. Not deadline focused. Deadlines are important, but in the midst of their crazy lives, readers need an escape and a quiet reassurance.

Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh?” he whispered.

“Yes, Piglet?”

“Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s hand. “I just wanted to be sure of you.”

— A.A. Milne (Winnie-the-Pooh)


  1. says

    Even though I write mostly for myself, my husband often reassures me in similar ways. As I approach a NaNoWriMo deadline two days away with 10,000 words yet to write, my Piglet quietly closes the door behind him as he leaves a cup of hot tea on my desk. We are blessed.

  2. Shauna Hess Viele says

    Oh Leilani. You spoke words from my heart. I’m a bit like that hamster on the wheel too. And like, Pooh, I frequently need to reach out for a hand “just to be sure.” Thanks for sharing.

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