When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
My writing partner, apart from being generous, astute, and insightful, is a master at calling out stinkers. Again and again, every line, paragraph, and idea that is either slightly off or completely off, she gently says, “maybe this could come out. Not sure. What do you think?” Oh, gentle lady! If you have someone in your life with a dowsing rod, aka, a stinker meter, don’t let them go. This begs another question, why don’t we know ourselves when we’ve besmirched the page?
Do you know you’ve written a stinker?
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Betsy Lerner 
Sometimes I do and sometimes I’m so enthralled with myself that it doesn’t even occur to me that the piece could be stinky.
On the other hand, I have written some blog posts that I thought were not that good, but they got so many good comments.
Go figure!
“Do you know you’ve written a stinker?”
Unfortunately, usually not right away. Fortunately, usually over time I can detect it. They have a peculiar smell that grows stronger as time passes.
Sometimes I can spot something that needs to come out. The stink-o-meter does flounder, though, and I wish I had a reader as astute as yours.
Yes and NO. I sometimes doubt. Other times, I am surprised by a comment that a detail is overkill…