What Selling Lemonade Can Teach Us About Writing
My friend’s example spurred me to reconsider my responses when fellow writers asked for my critiques. Recently reading a colleague’s memoir, at the opening pages I reacted like Jon initially—instant dismay. How could my friend write this crap? Then I recalled Jon’s next response: he recognized his daughter’s honest desire and took it seriously. With trepidation, I approached my friend’s work, not wanting to “offend.” But I realized I had to honor both myself and him by being honest—as Jon was in listing the needed and maybe less-than-pleasant requirements of the lemonade project.
A friend invited me to the summer tenth birthday party of his daughter. As the after-candles cake slices were placed in front of us, Lisbeth exclaimed, “Dad! How about doing a lemonade stand!” I looked at Jon’s face. It went from a second of instant dismay, knowing he’d have to oversee and shepherd the project, to an enthusiastic smile.
“Okay, honey. Great idea, but do you know what we have to do?”
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“Sure,” she said, digging into her three-layer triple fudge-mint-chocolate-chip ice cream cake slice. “We get a table, make lemonade, and print a sign. We can put our table by the building pool on weekends.”
“There’s a lot more to it than that, honey,” Jon said. And he patiently explained the steps—getting permission from the high-rise building manager, buying frozen lemonade, getting some real lemons for better taste, rounding up pitchers, mixing small batches, locating a cooler for ice, buying sturdy-enough paper cups, making an eye-catching sign, keeping records of expenses and income, and showing up at the same time every weekend day.
Lisbeth stopped eating and stared at him. He continued, “And you’ve got to stand outside in the sun for a good two to three hours each time. Are you still up for it?”
She thought for a moment and took a forkful of cake. “I can charge a dollar a drink. How about adding cookies and raisin packets?”
Well, they did it, for six weekends. Two people even asked if they’d come back in the fall. My friend sacrificed the prime of his weekend afternoons watching over the stand and running inside to the refrigerator to get the reserves. Lisbeth made $55.00 almost every weekend and learned a lot of lessons. So did I.
I noticed how Jon responded to his daughter’s idea—he didn’t rule it out or ridicule it but took her request seriously. He answered with consideration and kindness. Yet he pointed out the realities: forethought, planning, preparation, hard work, and sweating in the sun.
Jon’s example spurred me to reconsider my responses when fellow writers asked for my critiques. Recently reading a colleague’s memoir, at the opening pages I reacted like Jon initially—instant dismay. How could my friend write this crap? Then I recalled Jon’s next response: he recognized his daughter’s honest desire and took it seriously.
With trepidation, I approached my friend’s work, not wanting to “offend.” But I realized I had to honor both myself and him by being honest—as Jon was in listing the needed and maybe less-than-pleasant requirements of the lemonade project.
So I dove into my friend’s memoir. Happily, I found passages to praise and evidence of real talent. I interspersed these with my appraisal of the parts that seemed superficial, awkward, and obtuse.
Two days after I sent him the critique, my colleague called. He exclaimed, “Finally! Criticism I can use!” Others who had read the book, he said, had “massaged” him and overpraised his work. But he knew better. “Thank you! You helped me see the flaws. Now I’ll jump into the editing.”
“Great,” I said, feeling relieved and validated at my decision.
So, every time another writer risks entrusting me with the fruit of his or her imagination, and every time I’m tempted to be meaner and smaller, I think of Jon. And I remember, and act on, the precious lessons from the lemonade stand. I want to show I believe in their desire and ability to improve their writing.
Author, editor, dissertation and writing coach, and spiritual counselor Noelle Sterne has published over 300 pieces in print and online venues, including Author Magazine, Chicken Soup for the Soul, Children’s Book Insider, Funds For Writers, Graduate Schools Magazine, GradShare, InnerSelf, Inspire Me Today, Pen & Prosper, Romance Writers Report, Textbook and Academic Authors Association, Transformation Magazine, Unity Magazine, Women in Higher Education, Women on Writing, Writer’s Digest, and The Writer. She has also published pieces in anthologies, has contributed several columns to writing publications, and has been a volunteer judge for Rate Your Story. With a Ph.D. from Columbia University, Noelle has for 30 years assisted doctoral candidates to complete their dissertations (finally). Based on her practice, her handbook addressing dissertation writers’ overlooked but very important nonacademic difficulties was published in September 2015 by Rowman & Littlefield Education. The title: Challenges in Writing Your Dissertation: Coping with the Emotional, Interpersonal, and Spiritual Struggles. In Noelle's previous book, Trust Your Life: Forgive Yourself and Go After Your Dreams (Unity Books, 2011), she draws examples from her academic consulting and other aspects of life to help readers release regrets, relabel their past, and reach their lifelong yearnings. Visit Noelle at her website: trustyourlifenow.com.
