Have you ever read the letters of the poet Cowper? He had nothing -- literally nothing -- to tell anyone about; private life in a sleepy country town where Evangelical distrust of "the world" denied him even such miserable society as the place would have afforded. And yet one reads a whole volume of his letters with unfailing interest. How his tooth came loose at dinner, how he made a hutch for a tame hare, what he is doing about his cucumbers -- all this he makes one follow as if the fate of empires hung on it.
From The Letters of C.S. Lewis
Often, it's not what you write, it's how you write it.
