Just

One of the important things when you are a writer is to ask for feedback. It’s easier to ask for than receive, but a trusted friend can show you things to which you are blind. That was the case recently. The final reader of my novel’s draft showed me how often I use the word “just.” He was just a parish priest … it was just something he felt he should say… the examples seemed endless, and I’ve been thinking about the word ever since.

“Just” is a filler, a way to put something into a sentence to downplay whatever it is describing. It reveals a timidity of heart. Rather than say something boldly, instead of saying some thing or some one is important, “just” keeps us from getting carried away and saying what we really mean.

While it will be a hard habit to break, the effort is worth it. I want to speak boldly and not discount the people who, and moments that, matter.

It wasn’t just a conversation with my son, it was a conversation that will change things forever.

It’s not just a (stream, wave, or beautiful sunset), it’s a reminder that we live in an incredible world filled with beauty.

She wasn’t just a teacher, she was a person who devoted her life to touching the lives of others.

It’s not just a book, it’s a song of a soul sung for others who might be stirred by its melody.

Stripping away the clutter of our language and the pillows surrounding our tender hearts reveals who we are and what we care about. No wonder so few do it.

Just a thought.