Why is it so hard to tell our loved ones exactly what they mean to us? You want to tell your partner how you feel about them but you end up staring at a blank screen for so long you give up. Or you try a few lines only to delete them all and start over. Again.
Don’t let words get in the way of telling your loved one how much they mean to you.
Oftentimes we think that those closest to us know exactly how we feel about them and how important they are to us. But the sad reality is that usually they don’t. And everyone wants to be loved.
So how can you write a love letter that you will feel proud to give and one that your loved one will cherish for all time? Where do you start? Follow these easy tips below and you’ll be on your way in no time.

1. First write down 5 things that you love about your partner and be as specific as possible. Rather than writing that they are kind, instead be detailed about how they are kind. Perhaps they always smile at waiters in restaurants or they are great at making people feel included, especially at parties.
2. Write down 5 things that they have done that confirms how much you love them and again, give examples. Perhaps they enveloped you in a hug last night when you were feeling frustrated about your family. Or maybe they knew how disappointed you were when you missed out on that promotion and they cooked a special meal to cheer you up.

3. Pick the best three examples from each of the above categories and weave them into your letter. You could start by saying ‘I love how you…’ and then include the three examples from the first point. Then you could say something like ‘I loved the way you…’ and then mention the other examples. Make sure you emphasize how their actions made you feel, how loved you felt and how grateful you are to have them in your life.
4. Write up a draft first and then go over it to see if you can improve it. Sometimes it helps to write up what you want to say, edit it until it flows well and then leave it for a day or two before going back for a final edit and polish.
5. Buy some special paper and write out your letter. Don’t worry if your handwriting isn’t perfect – it’s distinctly yours and your loved one will appreciate the time and effort you put into the letter. If you feel your writing is so bad it will be difficult to read or if your illegible handwriting is something you’ve argued about before then pay to get it hand written by a professional. At a stretch you could use a more romantic font on your computer, say Garamond in italic, but you should really only do that as a last resort. The more personal you can make your letter the more your loved one will treasure it.
6. Have fun with how you deliver this letter to them. Will you slip it in their briefcase? Mail it? Leave it under the pillow? Do you want to be there when they open it? If you want to see their reaction, then it is best to hand it to them. You could team the letter up with a small gift like flowers or chocolate but make sure the gift doesn’t diminish the letter as you want that to be the main focus.
Submitted by Jill Brennan, creator of the “101 Love Letters” system available at www.loveyouletters.com

More writing help:

Free writing templates at EasyWritingTemplates.com
Report on how to write a bio at BioTemplates.com

Free business forms and other writing templates at HomeBusinessWiz.com

Relationship advice

I find that if I remind myself (frequently) that the purpose of life isn’t to get it all done but to enjoy each step along the way and live a life filled with love, it’s far easier for me to control my obsession with completing my list of things to do. Remember, when you die, there will still be unfinished business to take care of. And you know what? Someone else will do it for you! ~Richard Carlson, 1961-2006
Richard Carlson died suddenly in late 2006 at the age of 45. Author of the hugely popular “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff’ and many other books including his latest, ‘Don’t Get Scrooged’, he was an inspiration to countless people. It comforts me to know that even though we lost him early, he left behind a family, friends and fans who loved and appreciated him. He touched lives and made a difference.
Submitted by by Janice Hunter, Writer and HomeLIfe Coach. Contact: janice [at] lovingthedetails.com

For me the most important human quality is kindness, and I will go out of my way to support a business that has kindness as a core value.
For example, I was in a trendy coffee shop in Vancouver (actually, it was the Blenz on the corner of Davie and Granville) when a mentally ill street person came in.
This individual made quite a loud commotion about what he was going to order, how much it would cost, etc. It went on for about 10 minutes. Eventually he asked for a (free) glass of water. The staff treated him with patience, kindness and respect.
After the man left, I talked about it with a staff member. She explained that he was a person who suffered from bi-polar disorder and was currently in a manic phase. She said that he came in regularly and the staff tried to keep an eye on how he was doing so that they could get medical help for him if needed.
This is the kind of thing that makes me happy.

Cradling a coffee to my lips like a prayer in a begging bowl, I sat alone. The owner of the hotel, a friend, kept throwing me reassuring glances. The lights on the huge Christmas tree twinkled and raucous laughter and the smell of beer drifted in from the public bar next door.
A pretty dark eyed Polish waitress and the owner’s son and daughter smiled as they rushed back and forwards from the bar, fussing around thirty elderly residents from a local nursing home who sat at a long table drinking tea and coffee, clinking their teaspoons as they relaxed after their annual Christmas meal.
Some sat very still, their hands clasped in their laps, their eyes rheumy, dreaming perhaps of Christmases past. One dignified man in a tweed jacket and sombre tie smiled and thanked the waitress graciously for every small service. A bald man with ruddy cheeks leaned over to chat to friends who had to strain to hear, their lined faces creased in smiles.
“That’s them comin’, Charlie!” shouted one of the regulars at the bar and my heart started pounding. A group of bustling schoolchildren in school uniform was herded in by two teachers, one anxiously smiling, the other firmly issuing orders in a hushed voice that brooked no opposition.
Tall gangly boys with dishevelled uniforms jostled with nervously giggling girls as they took off coats and scarves and flustered around, gathering sheet music and producing shining brass trumpets and trombones from black leather cases lined in red velvet.
One lad heaved from a heavy case an accordion that was almost as big as him. Several of the girls spotted me, smiled, whispered to my daughter, nudged her and pointed: “Look, Annie! There’s yer mum!” She saw me, broke into a sunny grin and waved a shy half wave as I smiled back and fought to stop myself grinning like a doting idiot. Her teacher leaned down smiling and whispered to me “You’ll be glad you came.” One of my daughter’s classmates started to announce the short programme. “Thank you for inviting us to come here to entertain you today.”
A short dance routine, a brass band Christmas tune, a boy playing Flower of Scotland on the accordion. I listened with half an ear, clapping loudly at the end of each performance but ever aware of my beating heart and the faces of the old folk.
And there she was. My baby, standing tall and proud in front of the assembled choir of young people I’d known since they’d played with sand and plasticine at playgroup. Nearly as tall as me now, silver tinsel in her blonde pony tail, the same intense look in her pale turquoise eyes that I’d seen in every photograph of me growing up.
My friend Charlie looked over, saw me struggling with a lump in my throat and the throb of unshed tears as my girl began to sing. “It was on a starry night…” and then he looked at me, looked back at my daughter, stunned.
He’d never heard her sing, knew only that I was a proud mum, knew that like him, I’d lost my elderly mum before she’d had the chance to know her youngest grandchildren. “And the angels sang for him…” The public bar fell silent. “The bells in heaven rang for him…”
As her golden voice wrapped itself around everyone in the room, I felt my mother’s arms around me, holding me together. I saw the faces of those proud old people transfixed and tears streaming down their faces. After her last note had faded away into silence, there was a pause before the whole room started clapping.
The children gathered up their instruments and sheet music, chatting and giggling proudly and Annie came over to me, her face beaming. She grew anxious when she saw my blotchy face but when I smiled, unable to speak, and pulled her to me; she stroked my hair with a wisdom beyond her years and gave me a huge, silent hug.
Submitted by by Janice Hunter, Writer and HomeLIfe Coach. Contact: janice [at] lovingthedetails.com