This is my spin on the end of the modern-day romance...

This is a eulogy for our poetry nights at the bookstore.

Remember the day when that spoken word artist shook us to the core?

You were so inspired that you bought her book and I performed her poetry for you.

The more I scowled, the more you laughed. I just couldn't master her lyrical flow, you know?


By the way, I disagree, reading poetry on your Kindle just doesn't seem the same to me.
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This is a eulogy for our conversations.

And the evening phone calls that stretched into the wee hours of the morning.

I miss that back-and-forth banter that once defined us.

Yes, you used to say tomaaaayyyyto and I used to say tomaaaahhhhto.

But it seems we don’t say much of anything anymore.

By the way, I disagree, that sweet e-mail just doesn't seem the same to me.

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This is a eulogy for our mid-afternoon check-ins.

I really miss asking you about your day.

And hearing how you planned to make our world just a little brighter.


By the way, I disagree, the Twitter updates just doesn't seem the same to me.

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This is a eulogy for our intimacy.

I really miss staring into your eyes until your random blinks and my rhythmic heartbeats would eventually fall into sync.

Your wondrous brown eyes could never lie to me, no matter what your mischievous mouth said. Like when your mouth said, yes, that you loved my Creole dirty rice, well, your eyes told me to never prepare that meal again.

By the way, I disagree, that sweet Skype video message just doesn't seem the same to me.

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This is a eulogy for our weekly golf outings.

After summers of your priceless tutoring, yes, finally, my swing is respectable enough to join you on the green alongside the real golfers.

By the way, I disagree--the Wii game version you bought just doesn't seem the same to me.
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This is a eulogy for the Build-A-Bear Workshop teddy you stuffed for me.

And the handwritten love note that was pinned to its coat.

By the way, I disagree--your constant teddy bear 'pokes' on Facebook just doesn't seem the same to me.

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The next time you visit my Facebook page, perhaps you should check my relationship status.
By the time you read this note that, too, would have changed.

By Rich Sullivan

At least once a week, I get an email from someone who has written something, and I am asked to "look it over."

I always do. Some of it is very good. Some of it is not so good.

I click on, eager to read what I have been sent. Then, a second later, the copy pops up on my screen, and my eyes glaze over.

I so often find myself staring at what I call a "brick wall": a gigantic, solid, mass of type. There are no paragraph breaks. There's no "air" in the copy, no oxygen. I feel like I can't breathe!

So instead of reading with eager anticipation, I find myself plowing through it, like I'm a dirt farmer from Kansas. Reading should be a joy, not an ordeal. Attention spans are at an all-time low. Mine gets lower with every passing day.

I read a book review the other day, and it was very good, except that it was something like fifty lines of uninterrupted type, without a pause. When I finished reading it, I had to take a nap.

I would advise any aspiring writer to not make any paragraph more then ten or twelve lines. We are no longer in Victorian England, where writers would go on for pages without a paragraph break. Writers in Victorian England were paid by the word. (Check out any novel by Charles Dickens). They had a reason for their verbosity. We don't.

If you have a twenty-seven line paragraph, you probably have more than one thought in it. Find out what those thoughts are, and give each one its own paragraph. Watch out for any sentence that you start with the word "But." If the sentence starts with a "but," it should be a new paragraph.

But I'm sure you already knew that!

It's not just what you say, it's how you say it. Dense, thick, unending words make you look like a bloviator, not a communicator, and nobody likes a windbag.

Write what you want, then go back, review it, and then make sure it looks good.

Open the windows, and get some air in there. Let the sunshine in!