Poet Jane Kenyon’s Advice on Writing: Some of the Wisest Words to Create and Live By

I encourage you read these powerful, awe-inspiring words from Maria Popova’s wonderful collection, Timeless Advice on Writing: The Collected Wisdom of Great Writers.

Here is the link to today’s article.

“Be a good steward of your gifts.”

BY MARIA POPOVA

In Still Writing: The Pleasures and Perils of a Creative Life — one of the finest, most insightful reflections on the creative experience ever committed to words — writer Dani Shapiro mentions a set of instructions by the poet Jane Kenyon (May 23, 1947–April 22, 1995), a writing mantra of sorts, which she keeps tacked above her desk.

Literature being the original internet, I followed this analog hyperlink to Kenyon’s A Hundred White Daffodils: Essays, Interviews, The Akhmatova Translations, Newspaper Columns, and One Poem (public library) — an altogether marvelous posthumous collection.

These uncommonly sage instructions appear in a piece titled Everything I Know About Writing Poetry — Kenyon’s notes for a lecture she delivered at a literary conference in 1991, a superb addition to this growing compendium of writers’ advice on the craft. Although her advice is aimed at poets, at its heart is tremendous wisdom that applies to every field of creative endeavor and can electrify any artist. Spoken with the unpretentious honesty of her own experience as a working poet with decades of trial and triumph under her belt, Kenyon’s counsel comes as an offering of love:

Tell the whole truth. Don’t be lazy, don’t be afraid. Close the critic out when you are drafting something new. Take chances in the interest of clarity of emotion.

Illustration by Kris Di Giacomo from Enormous Smallness by Matthew Burgess, a picture-book biography of E.E. Cummings

The closing passage — the one tacked above Shapiro’s desk — contains some of the most ennobling tenets for a human being to live by:

Be a good steward of your gifts. Protect your time. Feed your inner life. Avoid too much noise. Read good books, have good sentences in your ears. Be by yourself as often as you can. Walk. Take the phone off the hook. Work regular hours.

Complement this particular portion of the wholly wonderful A Hundred White Daffodils with psychoanalyst Adam Phillips on the vitality of “fertile solitude,” Thoreau on the spiritual rewards of walking, and Mary Ruefle on the nourishment of good books, then revisit Shapiro’s indispensable memoir of the writing life.

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Author: Richard L. Fricks

Writer, observer, and student of presence. After decades as a CPA, attorney, and believer in inherited purpose, I now live a quieter life built around clarity, simplicity, and the freedom to begin again. I write both nonfiction and fiction: The Pencil-Driven Life, a memoir and daily practice of awareness, and the Boaz, Alabama novels—character-driven stories rooted in the complexities of ordinary life. I live on seventy acres we call Oak Hollow, where my wife and I care for seven rescued dogs and build small, intentional spaces that reflect the same philosophy I write about. Oak Hollow Cabins is in the development stage (opening March 1, 2026), and is—now and always—a lived expression of presence: cabins, trails, and quiet places shaped by the land itself. My background as a Fictionary Certified StoryCoach Editor still informs how I understand story, though I no longer offer coaching. Instead, I share reflections through The Pencil’s Edge and @thepencildrivenlife, exploring what it means to live lightly, honestly, and without a script. Whether I’m writing, building, or walking the land, my work is rooted in one simple truth: Life becomes clearer when we stop trying to control the story and start paying attention to the moment we’re in.

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