e sick feeling that overwhelmed me once I realized what I had done. "What was I thinking?" That was just it, I wasn't thinking. My written words were out there. There was no retrieving them out of the mailbox. There was no rewrite. I felt naked and ashamed because my written response could be taken out of context and hurt someoneWriting is an artistic release. Cyberspace allows millions of pairs of eyes to review your words. The opportunity to express your opinion and send it clear across the world is the ultimate in free speech. With the privilege of public expression also comes the responsibility of choosing your words carefully. Speaking is less deliberate. Unless your words are recorded, you can rebound from a faux pas with either good humor, a silver tongue, or groveling for forgiveness. Unlike speaking, the written word can either be your badge of honor or the nail in your coffin.

Bad writing is like a reality television show: the first showing is bad enough, but the reruns are like recurring nightmares. Be careful what you write. In ninth grade, I was jotting down a note to my friend because the lecture in class was incredibly boring and I said so in those exact words. Before I knew it, the paper on which I was composing was snatched from my desk by the teacher who recited its contents to the class. That episode left some scar tissue on my psyche. Apparently, time heals wounds because I forgot and committed a worse breach of trust later in life when a relative e-mailed me asking me a very personal question about another family member. Once I typed in my unrestrained opinion and pushed the "send" button, my stomach sank from the sick feeling that overwhelmed me once I realized what I had done. "What was I thinking?" That was just it, I wasn't thinking. My written words were out there. There was no retrieving them out of the mailbox. There was no rewrite. I felt naked and ashamed because my written response could be taken out of context and hurt someone

rate. Unless your words are recorded, you can rebound from a faux pas with either good humor, a silver tongue, or groveling for forgiveness. Unlike speaking, the written word can either be your badge of honor or the nail in your coffin.

Bad writing is like a reality television show: the first showing is bad enough, but the reruns are like recurring nightmares. Be careful what you write. In ninth grade, I was jotting down a note to my friend because the lecture in class was incredibly boring and I said so in those exact words. Before I knew it, the paper on which I was composing was snatched from my desk by the teacher who recited its contents to the class. That episode left some scar tissue on my psyche. Apparently, time heals wounds because I forgot and committed a worse breach of trust later in life when a relative e-mailed me asking me a very personal question about another family member. Once I typed in my unrestrained opinion and pushed the "send" button, my stomach sank from the sick feeling that overwhelmed me once I realized what I had done. "What was I thinking?" That was just it, I wasn't thinking. My written words were out there. There was no retrieving them out of the mailbox. There was no rewrite. I felt naked and ashamed because my written response could be taken out of context and hurt someone

ns are like recurring nightmares. Be careful what you write. In ninth grade, I was jotting down a note to my friend because the lecture in class was incredibly boring and I said so in those exact words. Before I knew it, the paper on which I was composing was snatched from my desk by the teacher who recited its contents to the class. That episode left some scar tissue on my psyche. Apparently, time heals wounds because I forgot and committed a worse breach of trust later in life when a relative e-mailed me asking me a very personal question about another family member. Once I typed in my unrestrained opinion and pushed the "send" button, my stomach sank from the sick feeling that overwhelmed me once I realized what I had done. "What was I thinking?" That was just it, I wasn't thinking. My written words were out there. There was no retrieving them out of the mailbox. There was no rewrite. I felt naked and ashamed because my written response could be taken out of context and hurt someone. That episode left some scar tissue on my psyche. Apparently, time heals wounds because I forgot and committed a worse breach of trust later in life when a relative e-mailed me asking me a very personal question about another family member. Once I typed in my unrestrained opinion and pushed the "send" button, my stomach sank from the sick feeling that overwhelmed me once I realized what I had done. "What was I thinking?" That was just it, I wasn't thinking. My written words were out there. There was no retrieving them out of the mailbox. There was no rewrite. I felt naked and ashamed because my written response could be taken out of context and hurt someonee sick feeling that overwhelmed me once I realized what I had done. "What was I thinking?" That was just it, I wasn't thinking. My written words were out there. There was no retrieving them out of the mailbox. There was no rewrite. I felt naked and ashamed because my written response could be taken out of context and hurt someone badly.

Paper trails will catch the culprit every time. It may take time, but in the end, the bad guy is always caught. Embezzlers are stupid. Briefly, the thief gets away with his crime, but eventually, the gig is up. Authors should be wary of their craft, too. Publication is a permanent record. Language is a gift from God. No other species on earth has the ability to communicate in such a way that it can affect society as a whole or just one individual for the remainder of his life.

The next time you sit down to write your memoirs or simply to express your thoughts for a newspaper editorial, picture yourself explaining your writings to your beloved grandmother, your pastor, your children, or to Jesus.