Since 1980, May 23 has had a special significance in my life, marked by a peaceful, almost meditative activity with my best friend and lifelong companion.
Late spring, usually warm, almost always a sunny day, May 23 is a day I have spent at the barn (with the exception of a few years while I was in college and the barn was 900 miles away).
The morning would begin with a carrot – she would usually find it before I was ready to give it to her, nosing around the pocket of my blue jeans and pushing her heavy head against me until I shared it with her. Then she would munch contentedly, her eyelids at half-mast, as I walked around her with a soft brush, removing the layer of fine dust to reveal the deep red coat underneath.
She would stand with her ears drooping to the sides like an airplane as I bent over each foot with the metal hoof-pick, its red rubber grip long since worn off. Her weight would shift without my even asking, and she would lift the foot and gracefully bend her leg so I could extract the mud, pebbles – and other things – from the triangular space between the hard hoof wall and the soft, sensitive frog.
Three feet cleaned without a hitch, but the fourth – the right rear – was the one for which she had a tradition: as I leaned against her hip and bent to lift her leg below the hock, she would resist and kick the foot back slightly. She never did so maliciously; it was something she had done from the very first time I groomed her, back in 1980 when she was just a baby.
Next, I would pull my wide-toothed metal comb from my tack bag and gently work the knots from small sections of her tail. Without fail, she would swat at flies, the swish-swish sound comforting, although occasionally the heavy hair would catch my bare skin and sting just a little. Section by section I would work my way from the bottom to the top, releasing the knots, removing the burrs and bits of hay, until her tail was thick and flowing like a deep red waterfall.
I repeated the action on her mane, pulling those tiny sections that were long or unruly, my hands marked by blisters if I pulled hairs from the entire length
Brat’s birthday, 2010
of her long, graceful neck.
Ending with a pass through her thin red forelock, I would comb it all to one side and, like an embarrassed teenager, she would snort and shake her head as if to say, “Mom – puh-lease!” Then I’d brush her face with the soft brush and she would lower her head so I could plant a kiss on the small star that marked her forehead – her only marking, an angel’s kiss…
Most May 23rds, I would saddle up and we would take a short ride around the farm. One year, we rode down the long dirt driveway to the pond and the shack, well-hidden from the road. If something rustled in the underbrush, her ears would prick forward, until she realized it was a bird or some other small animal.
We would stand at the barbed-wire fence near the back end of the trail in the woods, where tree line met with hilly pasture, where other horses and cows grazed on the hill. The breeze would lift the strands of her mane as she held her head high, nostrils flaring as she took in their scent, and I could feel the intensity of her beneath me, beneath the saddle.
Then we would ride back to the barn and repeat the grooming process in reverse, ending with the chilly water from the hose washing away the marks from saddle and “horse lather” (an insult to call it mere “sweat”) that marked her body, and leaving her 
coat dark red, with tiny prisms of sunlight gleaming in its luster.
When she was dry – a task accomplished with me standing nearby, holding the thick lead-line in the yard where the grass (and clover) grew thicker than the pasture – I would fish another carrot from the pocket of my tack bag (somehow, she always knew it was there, and would wait patiently until I offered it to her), remove her halter and watch at the fence as she walked, then trotted to a sunny spot in the middle of the paddock.
She would turn, look at me (the horse equivalent of thumbing her nose), and lie down gracefully and groan in ecstasy as she kicked her legs in the air and rolled in the grass and dirt. Twice on the right side, twice on the left, then return to the right side and stand up – grunting as she did so – and shake, sending grass and dust flying in all directions.
Cleanliness is overrated when you’re a horse.
Ah, how I miss that tradition.
Happy Birthday, my dear Brat.
Tags: Beth Hermes, Canton, Georgia, writing prompts
For the past four years I’ve been facilitating creative writing workshops and business writing workshops for folks who know they need or want to communicate through writing, but never thought they had what it takes.
writing shouldn't feel "off-limits"
The problem isn’t that they can’t write (in fact, that’s one of the few rules in my class – no one is allowed to use the word “can’t”), it’s that they don’t have the confidence.
Have you ever met someone who hates to be photographed? It’s not that they are unattractive (I have yet to meet anyone whose face makes me turn away in horror), rather that they are uncomfortable with being judged on their appearance. That they are out in public shows that these folks don’t mind being seen, but their fear is of being seen by themselves.
Writer-phobia is a similar affliction. We write notes to ourselves, we write emails, and we certainly write posts on a variety of social media platforms (let me share that the one time you absolutely should not write is after imbibing heavily then Googling your former-significant-other). So why is it that people feel inhibited when it comes to writing a piece that means something to them?
Perhaps it stems from trying to be something they’re not.
Let’s use the example of photo-phobes once more: they may despise photos of themselves because they pose or plaster a forced smile for the camera. In other words, they aren’t expressing themselves in a way that is genuine.
When writing, somehow the specter of our long-forgotten high school English teacher emerges in front of us and starts spouting rules of grammar, punctuation and spelling. And that specter makes us revert back to stiff, formal styles of writing that come across like a false smile or an unnatural pose in a photo.
Might I suggest you write down on an index card a handful of your most favorite words and phrases, and sprinkle your writing with those. Your finished piece will “sound” more like you – because you are writing in your own, authentic “voice.”
If you are finding it difficult to come up with your words and phrases, enlist the help of someone with whom you spend a lot of time, someone who knows you well. Or maybe “quiz” several people in your circle, asking them to come up with a word or phrase they associate with you.
Then, before you post or send (or whatever you’re going to do), read it aloud and see if it “fits.” Chances are, if it feels uncomfortable to you, it will to your readers as well. But if it sounds like you speaking, you’re all set.
I use this method when I interview people for their bios or blogs. Watching their body language when they speak about themselves or their companies, I’ll see what “lights them up” when they’re talking – and that is what makes th difference between a dry-as-toast bio and one that is fun and full of life.
One… Two… Three… WRITE!
Beth Hermes will be facilitating two new 8-week Creative Writing workshops beginning Tuesday, April 2, 2013. The first is Tuesdays from 10:30 am – 12 noon at the Kennesaw State University OLLI program – open to senior adults ages 55+. Call 770-423-6765 or 1-800-869-1151 to register.
The second will take place at FoxTale Book Shoppe in Woodstock, Tuesdays from 6 pm – 7:30 pm. Call 770-516-9989, or visit their website to register.
Both classes run Tuesday, April 2 through Tuesday, May 21, 2013.
Tags: Beth Hermes, Canton, classes, Georgia, success, Write Every Day
I am the fortunate facilitator for a number of writing courses whose students include individuals with lifetimes of backgrounds in fields other than writing, and ranging in age from a ninth grade student to retirees who are genteel enough not to reveal their ages. 
With a mere eight weeks to assist them in extracting their stories from their memories and sharing them both on paper and aloud with the class, we start writing on the very first day. I remind them that this isn’t a theory class, but a writing class, so having them listen to me speak does no good without putting what is discussed during the lecture into practice.
I warm them up with a white board full of notes. They furiously copy things into their notebooks: my name, the name of the course, my email address and phone number, as well as the topics for each of the eight weeks of study.
Then we do a little exercise that includes them providing a brief introduction: name, where they came from (because it’s rare in Georgia to find anyone who was born here), their family, career background, why they chose this course.
Finally, I announce it’s time to write, and I must admit that I get a little thrill seeing all those deer-in-the-headlights looks of terror.
I reassure them that they’ve already told us a story, when they shared their introductions, and that they are each more than capable of writing a brief story or essay.
Groans, eye-rolls, heavy sighs ensue, then I “soften” and say, “How about we answer some questions first?”
Nods. Smiles. Sighs of relief.
I ask eight or ten questions – sometimes more, depending on my mood – and ask for a volunteer to share what they’ve written, reading each question in the form of a statement. For example, if I asked the name of their elementary school, they would say, “I was in the first grade at Midwestern City Elementary School;” followed by my question about who their teacher was, and they would read, “My teacher was Mrs. Smith;” and so on.
By the time we’ve gone all the way around the room, they’ve shared a nice little eight- or ten-line story and I smile. “Congratulations,” I say. “You have just written your first memoir.”
We all write, but writing well takes commitment. I encourage my students to make their tools available at all times: a comfortable writing pen, a notebook or journal that appeals to them. Their task is to jot down thoughts as they come to mind, with a commitment to longer and longer “jot sessions” each day.
Writing your story is a commitment to the relationship you have with yourself, I remind them.
Without fail, they have each WED their writing (although sometimes it could be more of a “WaED”): they Write (almost) Every Day.
Tags: Beth Hermes, Canton, Georgia, professional writer, Write Every Day, writing
What’s your weakest link?
For me, it’s math. I’m comfortable with things like balancing my checkbook, figuring a generous tip at a restaurant, even calculating the gas mileage on my car. But “higher math” – not so much.
I’m a word girl, and I can figure out all the technical accessories that allow for easier reading – things like ellipses, commas, even the correct use of a 
colon and semicolon (“dot over dot” and “dot over comma” to my math friends).
It blows my mind when I meet someone who doesn’t know – or care – about the proper use of an apostrophe (possessive, NOT plural!), but can recite the rules for dividing fractions without breaking a sweat.
In an October, 2012, article in The Atlantic, studies revealed that 82 percent of college freshmen were reading below grade level in 2006. Further research revealed that these students were struggling with reading because they were unable to write well – as in, express themselves in coherent, well-structured sentences and paragraphs.
The article went on to cite a 2007 study reported by The Nation’s Report Card, which revealed that only 1 percent of high school seniors were able to write what could be considered a sophisticated essay.
Part of the problem, the report stated, is our growing emphasis on technical knowledge – math, science, computer skills and the like. With future employers (and parents) demanding improved scores in math and science, student test scores have improved significantly in those subjects over the past decade.
The lack of interest in a liberal arts education on the part of employers and parents – thus, students – means fewer students are performing as well in “soft subjects” such as social studies and language arts. That helps make sense of the trend away from print materials such as books and newspapers, particularly as these become more readily available online.
To me, there’s something decadent about the written word, and the trend away from writing and reading seems akin to removing chocolate or wine from my diet forever.
Could I live without wine or chocolate? Of course I could.
But life is so much sweeter with a decadent dessert or a fine wine made with loving care by someone who has taken the time to perfect their craft.
Much like the written word.
Tags: Beth Hermes, Canton, communication, Georgia, professional writer, Write Every Day, writing
For New Year’s Eve, my husband and I went to dinner with friends. During the toast, one of our friends asked if we could share our New Year’s Resolutions, because she hadn’t made any yet and wanted to see what we were thinking.
Funny thing is, none of us at the table make resolutions – not for New Year’s, anyway. (That’s the result of my very last New Year’s Resolution, circa 1997: “Stop Making New Year’s Resolutions”)
What I’ve been doing for years is making a list of things I might like to do, see, improve, etc. in the future – not necessarily in the upcoming calendar year. Some of the items on the list might be baby
Find the beauty in every day
steps toward a goal I have for years from now (make regular contributions to my retirement fund), while others might be ways to feel better long-term (eat at home at least 4 nights per week).
Some people call this a “bucket list” or simply a list of goals. Whatever works for you (I’m thinking “resolution” is about the least popular word in January). Whatever it is, make it positive rather than negative, make it attainable, and make it fun.
Here are some examples that are on my list every year:
Read a new book every month. I’ve discovered some fabulous authors this way, as well as stretched outside of my “go-to” genres to find some wonderful new ideas.
Start every day looking for the positive. Smiling at myself in the mirror and telling myself my hair looks good or my biceps look stronger or my eyes are bright (or sometimes just “open”) has a significant impact on the rest of my day. It carries over into my interactions with people and tasks I have to complete as well, allowing me to find a silver lining in something that may have appeared bleak at first glance. Looking for the good reveals more good!
Spending quality time _________. Fill in the blank on this one. I’ve spent quality time playing board games with my kids, discovering new recipes to try at home, walking with my dogs, grooming my horse. I lost my horse last year, which made me appreciate how important the “spending quality time” promise is – we never know when we won’t have it anymore. (I think she appreciated the quality time I spent as well; she spent her last days here on earth knowing she was loved!)
Plant a garden. Some years it has been flowers, some years it’s been vegetables. For the past two years it’s been patio gardens. There’s nothing quite so sweet as seeing a hummingbird feeding at a flower you’ve planted, or taking a bite of a sunshine-warmed tomato straight off the vine.
And what’s on the list for this year?
Write every day. In my profession, this one is a given. But it doesn’t have to be all work. Writing is therapeutic.
Laugh more. With the students in my writing classes, this one will be a cake walk!
Don’t carry anything that doesn’t belong to me. I’m learning how to create boundaries this year that allow me to be empathetic without giving up a piece of myself. So often, we jump on a bandwagon before we know where it’s going – and I’m done with that.
Spend more time with the roof down. My convertible is my everyday vacation. If it’s warm enough and not raining, the roof is down. (Of course, the ancillary to this is wear sunscreen).
Rather than “resolve” (which by its nature implies that something needs to be fixed and is therefore currently broken), Aspire, Inspire and Enjoy!
Happy New Year!
Tags: Beth Hermes, Canton, success
Do you have a certain word that you would consider to be a favorite? Maybe it’s one that you use often, or one that sounds cool and you’d like to use more often, or one that people hear and say, “hey, that’s Beth’s word!”
I have a few words that I try to sprinkle into speech every so often. One of those is “cacophony,” because it so aptly describes noise, chaos, a lot of stuff going on. When I hear that word, I’m reminded of the Band Room before a concert back in high school, with all of the horns blowing, the strings practicing scales and the intermittent slide of the trombone (which I swear John played simply because he liked being the center of attention!)
But my favorite word, by far, is “serendipity.”
Look at it – say it. Whether you whisper it or shout it, “serendipity” glides off the tongue and hints at something magical.
“Serendipity” is when we recognize those things that come together that either help us on our way or give us direction. Perhaps we were looking for “a sign” that we were following the right path; serendipity is that sign.
Maybe we were just discussing a friend we haven’t heard from in awhile, and all of a sudden they call or you receive a letter or email from them. Or we’re thinking about something, and that very thing crosses your path (in my life, this thing is often a subject, which I then find mentioned in books, articles or a television interview). Or we’re feeling wistful, remembering a favorite toy or book or song from years ago, and we stumble across that very thing at some time during the day.
Serendipity isn’t just that thing happening; it is our taking notice of its occurrence, and our recognition of its significance to that moment, or our to our lives.
Serendipity is that piece of the puzzle we didn’t know was missing, but that that sets our hearts racing just a little bit faster when we find it and it fits. It has meaning, even if we aren’t sure why.
People have different words for it:
Synchronicity is similar, in that things are lining up and occurring with clockwork precision. To me, though, synchronicity implies that several things must line up exactly in order for the recognition to occur – like the teeth on a set of gears that line up and turn with the precision to keep time on a clock. Its very name synchronicity is the combination of syn – meaning same, and chron – meaning time.
With serendipity, the things don’t have to appear at the same time, the occurrences don’t have to fall in a single day or a single time, as implied by synchronicity. Although I do believe the two terms are related. After all, it takes synchronicity for two people – who perhaps share a common goal or vision – to meet and discover their similar interest.
Coincidence is the word preferred by many to explain two or more things happening at the same time that cause the observer to pause, take note, perhaps smile. Two friends of mine who had not seen one another in years, found each other giving birth to their firstborn children in the same hospital on the same day. When they told me, they used words like, “what are the odds?” and “isn’t that a coincidence?”
In my mind, coincidence is the word used by those much more cynical than I am. Coincidence implies chance, a scientific occurrence that can be explained by algorithms, formulas and graphs. Coincidence also is recognized by more than one. If several people had listened to the conversation with my two friends, they also might be prompted to say, “what a coincidence!”
But serendipity takes my breath away. To me, it is the events of the universe swirling away, and random bits of seemingly unrelated events latch on over a period of time. One or two might stick on the first swirl, others will show up later, that would not have made sense or “fit” at the earlier time.
Think what you may, serendipity gives me answers to the question, “What is the meaning of life?” When I come across another piece to the puzzle – another incidence of serendipity – it’s like a guidepost for me that I am making the right choices, doing the right thing, meeting the right people.
Serendipity is the pinch of salt that gives flavor to the “cosmic soup” which is my life.
Tags: Beth Hermes, Canton, Georgia, professional writer, writing
I’m not sure who coined the saying, “Time flies when you’re having fun,” but it seems to fly regardless of enjoyment level these days, although I suppose the “busy-ness” of the last few months would certainly earn a tick-mark in the “fun” column.
Fun is not so much a dictionary definition as a personal one. What one considers “fun” might be torture to another. I mentioned in my last post that I’m none too keen on risk-taking or thrill rides – my husband enjoys riding roller coasters but steers clear of horseback riding, while I’m the complete opposite.
Since August, fun activities for me have included participating in the Decatur Book Festival for the first time as a novelist, facilitating a workshop for high school seniors on working with their project mentors, meeting with the sisterhood of my monthly mastermind group, facilitating several writing workshops and going on a ghost walk with the Junior League of Gwinnett & North Fulton.
Those are just a few of the highlights that made it onto the project calendar. But there was also preparing the first batch of homemade chicken soup of the season, finally cleaning out the attic space that is accessible through my office, waiting in the carpool lane several times each week for my son to emerge from his Robotics Club meetings, and driving to the airport in rush-hour traffic to pick up my husband following several of his out-of-state business trips.
Some of you may be scratching your heads about now: how can cleaning out the attic or sitting in traffic be “fun”? (Heck, some of you probably thought I was nuts because I thought all the writing stuff was “fun”).
When I’m busy, accomplishing certain tasks gives me a rush of satisfaction that increases the “fun factor” of an otherwise daunting or dreaded task.
Cleaning out the attic space made my office feel lighter, and I am more inspired sitting at the desk that is five steps away from the previously messy space. Seeing the smile on my son’s face and hearing him chatter happily
about the latest success with his team’s robot warms my heart. And seeing my husband after a week or two makes battling the traffic worth the effort.
Fun, I’ve discovered, has less to do with the doing than with the satisfaction and sense of accomplishment afterward.
Looking back, I almost don’t remember moment-to-moment of August or September, but I’ve accomplished a lot in the last two months, and I’m satisfied with the results.
Tags: Beth Hermes, Blog-writing, Georgia, professional writer, success, writing
Let me preface this post by stating that I have a very cautious personality, so rafting was never high on my to-do list. I’ve ridden horses for decades, which struck some of my boat-mates as crazy, since horses have minds of their own… but I might argue that the river does as well. At least I can understand a horse, walk up to it, rub its nose, decide from its response whether it had a mind to cooperate or aim for the first low-growing tree limb.
A river has no psyche… or so I thought.
My palms began sweating profusely as we climbed the hill from the parking lot to the check-in counter, so when I settled into my helmet and life jacket and we learned about proper oar handling from one of the instructors, I felt certain that my sweaty palms meant one of my raft-mates (likely my husband) would lose a couple of teeth – or an eye!
Strapped into an impossibly tight life jacket and barely able to breathe, I felt claustrophobic and nearly chickened out. There was a play table in the lobby with a bunch of Lincoln Logs, and I thought I could have a pretty good fort assembled by the time my team returned from the river…
Having converted me from sometime-exerciser to someone addicted to daily workouts, my Boot Camp instructor, Stacy Ward, handed me a yellow wrist band etched with the words, “I Can Do This,” with the advice to glance at it each time I felt my resolve starting to melt. I put it on my left wrist, the side I’d be looking at as one of the left-side paddlers.
At the river’s edge, we were introduced to our guide, Jesse, who encouraged us to “get acquainted with our raft” by jumping into the chilly water while hanging onto the ropes. I informed Jesse that I was a “river virgin” and scared out of my mind, and he assured me I’d have a pleasant experience.
We boarded the raft, and I was told to sit with one “cheek” on the edge of the raft, and the other on the “seat” then wedge one foot under the side edge and the other under the “seat” in front of me. Jesse had me sit in the back – probably so he could grab my life vest if I passed out.
Like lemmings heading toward a cliff, the entrance to the river was filled with rubber rafts of five or six people and a guide, all headed down a 4.5-level rapid. Our raft went down sideways and I began to scream, resulting in a mouth and nose full of water. (It was the last time I screamed on the river).
After the butterflies (and probably a bunch of parasites I picked up from the gallons I swallowed in that first dip) settled down, I focused on the river ahead and Jesse’s instructions to “paddle forward” or “two strokes back” or – most important – “get down – paddles up!” (I was good at that one – even did it a few times without prompting!)
By the time we reached the calm water where the rest of my raft-mates ditched for a leisurely swim, I had bonded with the raft and decided to stay put. And I must say, even the last bit of rapids, where we hit our final 4.5-rated water, was exhilarating, even fun.
We climbed back on the bus and I removed my helmet, unfastened the straps to my impossibly tight life jacket and took my first deep breath in more than two hours. “I did it!” I smiled and handed the wrist band back to Stacy, thanking her for the reminder that boosted my confidence throughout the ride.
I don’t even like the log flume ride at Six Flags, so I was certain I would not like whitewater rafting – and I’m not saying I’ll volunteer to go on another trip anytime soon. But I’m grateful for the feeling of accomplishment, of doing something I feared, leaving the river with wobbly knees and a smile on my face.
Anything else you’re interested in is not going to happen if you can’t breathe the air and drink the water. Don’t sit this one out. Do something. You are by accident of fate alive at an absolutely critical moment in the history of our planet. ~ Carl Sagan
Though tempted by the Lincoln Logs in the lobby, I’m glad I didn’t sit this one out!
Tags: Beth Hermes, Canton, Georgia, success, writing
The Internet has brought so many wonderful things: instant access to information, near-immediate communication with anyone in the world, the opportunity for individuals to share whatever crosses their mind at any given time.
At the same time, these same things that are wonderful also have a downside, particularly because the code of ethics we embrace as members of the Society of Professional Journalists (SPJ) and that we were taught in Journalism School doesn’t exist for a large number of bloggers.
When I facilitate blog-writing workshops for individuals and small businesses, ethics and etiquette always are on the syllabus. With the number of emotion-filled blogs appearing in growing numbers, this is the perfect time to remind current and potential bloggers and blog-readers alike about blogging basics and their relationship to fact-based journalism.
The following is a condensed version of the Journalistic Code of Ethics (source: Society of Professional Journalists. For thefull version, visit www.spj.org/ethicscode.asp):
- Seek Truth and Report It - “Journalists should be honest, fair and courageous in gathering, reporting and interpreting information.”
- Minimize Harm – “Ethical journalists treat sources, subjects and colleagues as human beings deserving of respect.”
- Act Independently – “Journalists should be free of obligation to any interest other than the public’s right to know.”
- Be Accountable – “Journalists are accountable to their readers, listeners, viewers and each other.”
What is a blog?
A blog (combination of the words “Web” and “log”) is essentially an online diary. As with a traditional diary entry, blogs are filled with personal observations, individual perspectives, opinions and conjecture. Blogs may include facts, but generally speaking, the more emotion-charged a blog entry is, the less reliable those facts become.
Tags: Beth Hermes, Blog-writing, Canton, Georgia, professional writer
As a self-proclaimed wordsmith, I find that, as I age, I become more persnickety when people use certain words or phrases. A
Don't Should On Me
few examples:
- A myriad of – sure, it has become common to use it this way, but have you ever seen a “myriad”? The dictionary definition defines “myriad” as “ten thousand.” You wouldn’t say, “a ten thousand of,” now, would you? No – it’s myriad, plain and simple. That’s it. Cut out the “a” and “of” – they’re over-used anyway.
- In lieu – (when you mean “in light”) – “in lieu” means “instead”; “in light” means that something has been revealed that changes an opinion or makes the facts clear. “In light of this evidence, we find the defendant not guilty.”
- Due to the fact that… – this one irritates me because of Item 17 of Strunk & White’s “Elementary Principles of Composition” – Omit Needless Words. Why would you use five words when you can use one or two? Because or because of…
- Myself or I when you mean Me. “The presentation will be given by Carol and myself (or Carol and I).” Break it down, like you did in high school English class: “The presentation will be given by Carol/The presentation will be given by myself/I.” (does anyone else hear fingernails on a chalkboard??) Correction: “The presentation will be given by Carol and me.”
Another word that bothers me is “should.” I know it shouldn’t, but it does. When someone tells me I should do something, it rubs me wrong.
When people find out I’m a writer, I often hear, “you should write my life story.” (No – YOU may write it, if it is that compelling. After all, no one knows you better than you do). Because I freelance, people tell me I should sign with an agency. “You’re talented – you should be making a lot more money!” (Thanks. I know I must be frugal, but being strictly freelance allows me to set a schedule that includes research and projects that may yield income in the future).
I’m not the only one bothered by the “shoulds” – I’ve met several people recently whose blood pressure rises when someone tells them they “should” be doing something. “You should do it this way.” “You should be doing XX by now.”
Dictionary.com defines “should” as “must” – and no capable adult appreciates being told what they “must” do. Another definition is making a statement that is “less blunt or direct” than using the word “would” alone, as in: “I should think you would apologize.” (Another way to say this is, “I think you should apologize.”)
Perhaps it comes off as judgment – and I’ve been on such a live-and-let-live soapbox recently that the “shoulds” are at odds with my mantra.
While it may be just an attempt at offering constructive criticism, thinking your statement through before speaking might save the listener from some serious chafing.
The next time you find yourself “should-ing” someone, consider perhaps a more diplomatic phrase, such as, “might I suggest…” and “maybe you could…”
If you haven’t tried cutting the “shoulds” out of your vocabulary, maybe you should…
Tags: Beth Hermes, Canton, communication, Georgia, professional writer, writing
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