If a teacher told me to revise, I thought that meant my writing was a broken-down car that needed to go to the repair shop. I felt insulted. I didn't realize the teacher was saying, 'Make it shine. It's worth it.' Now I see revision as a beautiful word of hope. It's a new vision of something. It means you don't have to be perfect the first time. What a relief!
Anyone who says, “Here’s my address, write me a poem,” deserves something in reply. So I’ll tell you a secret instead: poems hide. In the bottoms of our shoes, they are sleeping. They are the shadows drifting across our ceilings the moment before we wake up. What we have to do is live in a way that lets us find them.
I think the job of writing and literature is to encourage each one of us to believe that we're living in a story.
The writing of Kathleen McGookey shines more brightly than most fine things we feel pleasure to read. Celebrate it!
I'm writing mostly to thank you for living you eighty years and to tell you I love you and think of you often.
