I just emailed a poem I had written to my “mentor” Woody, a man in his eighties. He wrote back that he didn’t like the poem; then he suggested about 12 changes I should make. The nerve! It is a good poem —one of my best. You all will not believe what I did. I wrote him back and said “I regretted casting my pearls before—you know. ” That’s exactly how I said it. Then I said I am indignant. I am not over-confident about my writing, to start with. I tend to down-play it. But THIS poem was really good. And it was about my Grandmother who was so kind to me. That made me more sensitive to criticism. My heart was in this poem. Oh, well. Thoughts?