I was in charge of the final writing workshop. I marched the poets onto my front lawn in lines of two. Part one of the assignment was this: you had to face your partner, look them directly in the eyes and say, You are an important person. Your writing is necessary. The recipient of this declaration had to wait thirty seconds, absorbing the truth of these words, never breaking eye contact, before replying, I know. Then the first recipient had to repeat this truth back to their partner.

If this sounds easy, I assure you, dear reader, it is not.

Which part do you think was the hardest? Receiving the compliment? Having to make eye contact with someone for thirty seconds? Or saying I know? Would you understand when I tell you that, after I told the poets they had to make direct eye contact with their partner, some of them broke down in tears upon hearing this instruction?

Holding eye contact was brutal, and many of us (or maybe it was just me) took more than thirty seconds to answer, I know. But once everyone got through it, we were changed. And you best believe that the poems written after this exercise were like incantations sprung from the soul. As poets, we often hide behind language, masking ourselves with metaphor. But our poetry cannot exist without us. We have to praise ourselves.

Go ahead. Find a friend or a mirror. Say it:

You are an important person. Your writing is necessary.