Time To Simplify

Am I trying to do too much? To keep up with too much? Am I trying too hard to compete in a world that demands the death of everything opposed to it in order to achieve the heights of its offerings?

If my life were to end today, would I die fulfilled? Or, like most people, would I realize I wasted my life in useless pursuit of approval, money, recognition, knowledge, or achievement? Or worse yet, in endless periods of doomscrolling on Instagram?

What if my child were to die—God forbid—all my children, suddenly snatched from me in an unpreventable twist of fate? Would I lay them to rest knowing that I maximized the time we spent together? Or did I squander it with a sea of endless distractions, all given higher priority than the seemingly mundane request from my four-year-old to join him on the floor with his Matchbox cars? The very same four-year-old who, just today, October 18, 2025, rode his pedal bike unassisted for the first time.

When I think about day-to-day life as a family of four, I find myself often deep in the red in terms of energy and patience. But if my children were taken from me, and I stood helplessly peering into the void as my children’s caskets were lowered to their final depth, the sounds of their voices filling my home forever silenced, would I believe that I had spent the time we had together wisely? Or would I trade everything I selfishly put ahead of them, and everything I’d ever acquired, to relive even the hardest and least memorable day we all shared together, one more time?

I am the king of justifications. I can imagine a scenario in my mind that justifies even the most obscenely unnecessary expenditure. I can just as easily justify the time I spend away from my children as necessary and, in fact, really for their benefit. But are those justifications just lies I’m telling myself to excuse trading the most valuable minutes of my life for meaningless pursuits? Minutes in which my children live fully in my view, together with me in our shared home. When our lives are so intertwined that it’s essentially one life with four heartbeats. Am I trading the unpromised few years in which this is true for things that are merely demanding, albeit satisfying—however fleeting that satisfaction may be?

I want to live each day as a father first. With intention. Deliberately. On purpose. And I want to live these days in the present—mindfully aware of the things that excite my children and bring them joy. The things that weigh heavy on their minds. I want to know where their fears lie dormant and where I can provide them with the tools to face those fears head-on.

Is it time to prune my priorities and the things that drain my time and energy, so that if I were ever forced to bear the unthinkable, I would bear it with the knowledge that, in the all-too-brief time we shared, nothing was left on the table and nothing was taken for granted?

Better still, I should become ruthless in auditing my own time and distractions, holding each one to account for the theft of those precious few moments in life, so those I hold closest are no longer last in line for my undivided attention. So that those in my life most deserving are no longer left to fight over the fumes remaining in my fuel tank, hoping to get a moment of uninterrupted time.

Not that I become desperate for their attention, but that when they ask for mine, they know they have it. And in that moment, they are my entire world—the width and breadth of my consciousness.

Criticism And The Human Condition

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Why does the slightest criticism when it comes to writing make us cringe. Not so much with an essay, letter to an editor, or a check at the grocery story. But, for some reason, criticism for a work of fiction cuts us at a core level. Why? I believe it is because if we are writing honestly, we are releasing little bits about ourselves; who we are, a little at a time to see how the world responds to it. It’s kind of like an ashamed patient saying, “I have this friends who says it hurts when he/she…” Then, gauging by how the doctor responds, perhaps a bit more truth gets leaked.

It’s not that criticism regarding style, sentence construction, description or narrative is so difficult to listen to. After all, most writers I know are their own biggest critics and already believe their writing sucks on a mechanical level. It is that each character in a work of fiction is a representation of ourselves that we are gauging the world’s reaction to. Are they accepting or did they gasp in horror?

So, if you are a fiction writer who fears criticism then be encouraged. You are in the company of the greatest writers of all time, who, in spite of their fears wrote honestly and created the works of literary genius by which all other writing is judged. If the criticism cuts deeply, you are probably on the right track. Keep up the good work.

Tread boldly and make no apologies for it!

Writing Tip: How To Detect And Correct Nominalizations

A nominalization is a noun you’ve created from a verb or adjective.

Nominalization: The screeching unnerved the rookie.

Screeching is a noun form of the verb to screech. This sentence is weak because readers don’t know who is screeching. When you use the verb to screech you giver yourself room to identify the noisemaker.

Better: The uncooperative suspect screeched, unnerving the rookie.

Nominalizations contain up to three elements. Sometimes you see only one or two of them; other times, all three appear.

  1. A word such as a, an, the, his, her, these, or several.
  2. A noun such as utilization, sadness or taking. This is the only element that always appears in nominalizations.
  3. The word of.

Nominalization: The last step was the collection of the victim’s dust bunnies.

Here the verb to collect has become the noun collection. This sentence is vague because it doesn’t specify who is collecting the evidence. All becomes clear when you use the verb to collect as well as a specific subject.

Better: The forensics team collected the victim’s dust bunnies just before leaving the scene.

Now let’s do an examination of–oops, I mean let’s examine–a nominalization with two elements.

Nominalization: The senior citizen responded to the would-be robber with an exclamation: “Get your hands off my dentures!”

Here the verb to exclaim has become the noun exclamation. Let’s improve the sentence.

Better: The senior citizen exclaimed to the would-be robber, “Get your hands off my dentures!”

Finally, here’s a nominalization with just one element.

Nominalization: Happiness was evident after the clown was arrested.

The sentence is poor because it fails to mention who is happy.

Better: The detective was happy after she arrested the clown.

Nouns that end in -tion and -ing are often nominalizations. Even the word nominalization is a nominalization (it comes from the verb to nominalize).

WHY SHOULD YOU AVOID NOMINALIZATIONS

  1. Nominalizations allow you to omit the subject. When you don’t say who is doing the action, your sentences become vague.
  2. Nominalizations often force you to use weak verbs. Vague subjects go hand in hand with weak verbs such as to be and to do. Although these verbs are integral parts of English, your writing can get rather monotonous if every sentence contains a was or were.
  3. Nominalizations are often wordy. When you reword nominalizations, your sentences usually become more concise.

WHEN IT’S OKAY TO USE NOMINALIZATIONS

You should use a specific subject in most cases. However, a nominalization is acceptable if you don’t know who is doing the action, or if the subject is unimportant.

The disappearance of every rat in town puzzled the police.

Paraphrased from The Curious Case Of The Misplaced Modifier by Bonnie Trenga ISBN: 978-1-58297-561-2