Yes

 

 

Say “Yes.”

Say “yes” to the job.

Say “yes” to the challenge.

Say “yes” to the writing magazine subscription.

Say “yes” to helping the person you don’t know very well.

Say “yes” to giving a little bit more to church.

Say “yes” to God.

 

Say “yes” to waiting.

Say “yes” to delayed gratification.

Say “yes” to working an extra hour.

Say “yes” to going out of your way to assist.

Say “yes” to the challenge.

Say “yes” to failure, own up to it.

Say “yes” to the extra mile, your shoes will not wear out.

Say “yes” to boundaries.

Say “yes” to letting worthless things go.

 

Say “yes” to walk on the narrow path.

Say “yes” to suffering, praying through it.

Say “yes” to conviction and discipline, humble yourself and learn from it.

Say “yes” to trust.

Say “yes” to praying with someone and praying for someone.

Say “yes” to carrying another’s burden.

Yes – 10-30-22 – 31 Days of Writing About Writing

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Lost

 

 

I feel lost.

I feel alone.

The writing isn’t coming today.

There is an emptiness in my head.

No ideas come to mind.

I feel dry.

I don’t want to open one of my motivational lists or prompt books.

I don’t want to force myself to work on a project.

The work I do seems meaningless.

I’m lost.

 

I take a walk.

I make a sacrifice of praise (the kind of praise I do when I don’t feel like praising).

I pray.

I spend time in the Scriptures.

I read a devotion.

I drink a glass of water.

I stretch.

 

I sit down to write.

The words come.

Slowly.

I see a pinprick of light.

The spot of light grows.

Jesus is the way – again.

I praise God.

 

I write.

Lost – 10-29-22 – 31 Days of Writing About Writing

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While

 

 

This will take a while. It always does. Waiting is hard.

 

 

Have you been waiting all this time? I have.

 

 

In a little while we will all know the truth and arguing will be fruitless. Waiting is hard.

 

 

While you do your job, I’ll do mine.

 

 

While I wasn’t looking Jesus prepared a beautiful day for me.

 

 

While I slept God sent His angels to watch over me.

 

 

While I was doing this writing, God was working in the lives of my family and friends.

 

 

While I was uploading this on to my blog, Jesus was preparing a place for me.

 

 

Waiting is hard.

While – 10-28-22 – 31 Days of Writing About Writing

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Hidden

 

 

A Discovery

I suddenly found myself writing a short story that surprised me, delighted me, made me smile. Where had it come from?

And then I realized there were millions of things hidden in my mind locked inside file cabinets that I never knew were there.

I don’t remember how I found out about the book “Fast Fiction” by Roberta Allen. I must have been searching for a new writing book, perhaps a writing magazine or maybe Barnes and Nobel. It doesn’t matter anymore. I found it. I bought it. I read it. I worked through it.

The method she used intrigued me. She wrote the book “Fast Fiction” after running a series of workshops in New York. In the book she states that she originally fell upon the method as she sat in front of a painting in an art museum. The painting sparked a story in her mind. She quickly wrote down the bones of the story to finish at another time. She continued this throughout the museum and discovered she had found a new way to create raw material for creative writing pieces.

Allen also wrote “The Playful Way to Serious Writing,” also one of my favorites, using the same methods.

I use both books to spark fresh writing; to dig out new things from my dusty, cavernous brain (can you hear the echo?); and to spur me on during my November Adventure.

 

My Practice

As per Allen’s suggestion, I set a timer for five minutes, read one of her specially designed prompts, and write as much as I can before the timer goes off. This writing is by hand. It must be by hand for it to work for me. There is something more primitive, more tactile, more visceral when using a pen and paper. The physical effort of writing connects new places in the brain.

No crossing out allowed. No fixing “mistakes.” Her method is as reactionary as possible. The hidden things in the brain are prompted by a word or a phrase or a picture. I write about the first thing that comes to mind. Many of these things are uncomfortable and even painful. But she urges her participant to write them anyway.

Another way to use “Fast Fiction” is to create raw material for an entire novel. Sometimes after a session of six writing prompts in quick succession, I see a patterns, a relationship, or a bigger story emerging.

And all these things were hidden somewhere in the file drawers of my brain.

 

God is In Charge of Hidden Things

God talks about the hidden things too. The more we work on our relationship with God, the more He reveals to us things we didn’t know were there. Sometimes it happens to me when I’m reading His Word. Sometimes when I am worshipping in church. Sometimes during the message. Sometimes while I’m praying. Sometimes while I am writing. These are precious times for me, times of convicting, or insight, or truth, or realization.

But there are things that will be hidden until God is ready to reveal them. And that is okay with this bear of very little brain.

 

Passages to Ponder

“But of that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but the Father alone.” – Mark 13:32 (NASB)

“For nothing is hidden that will not become evident, nor anything secret that will not be known and come to light.” – Luke 8:17 (NASB)

“Call to Me and I will answer you, and I will tell you great and mighty things, which you do not know.” – Jeremiah 33:3 (NASB)

“But there is nothing covered up that will not be revealed, and hidden that will not be known. Accordingly, whatever you have said in the dark will be heard in the light, and what you have whispered in the inner rooms will be proclaimed upon the housetops.” – Luke 12:2-3

“At that time Jesus said, ‘I praise You, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that You have hidden these things from the wise and intelligent and have revealed them to infants.’” – Matthew 11:25

 

www.robertaallen.com

~

 

Hidden – 10-27-22 – 31 Days of Writing About Writing

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Dream

 

Day Dreams

I was a day-dream kinda kid. I had all sorts of imaginary creatures and places in my head when I was young. My brother and I used to tell each other stories as we went on long trips – the beginning of my writing.

Growing up I held on to dreams, the day kind, ballet dancer, concert pianist, famous writer, world traveler, well-known speaker, great educator. These dreams were wishes, not goals to work toward, and I only thought about them and never did anything to find them.

And I wasted a lot of time.

 

Night Dreams

I always believed the dreaming at night was my braining organizing the file drawers in my head. I used to talk about the dreams I had, always in color, rarely scary. Then I wrote about the dreams I had, the tunnel from my closet to the road a mile away, the days I flew like a bird, the animals I talked to.

As an adult I began writing down my dreams as a way to create stories. I stopped for a while but realized the practice also helped me in other ways.

Some dreams repeated, like the huge house with no furniture and beige walls and stairs to every room. Or the house with lots of bedrooms filled with beds on the floor with just enough room to walk around. Or the ones about me saving members of my family from some terrible fate even though they didn’t think there was anything to worry about. Or the ones about my husband and me and how we could never find a space to be alone. Or the ones about me trying to find a bathroom with a door I could close.

Maybe I’ve revealed too much …

Then there was the dream that gave me an entire short story in one night. It was about a young lady, married with two children, who went west with her husband to a run-down ranch with a house that needed tons of repair. I went through a series of sleeping and waking, writing down the parts of the story as they happened, then shutting off the light and going back to sleep. My husband thankfully slept through the whole thing.

I practiced writing my dreams down in the morning since I had read it was a good thing to do. Then I stopped, thinking I was focusing too much on them. But I started up again as a way of capturing the dream and understanding the possible reason for having it, a way to control it, to hold it and analyze it and make it mine. I have since found the practice calming and empowering.

 

The Great Writer Mystery

This brings me to the mysterious phenomenon of how several writers can get the same idea for a story all at the same time.

I used to think the universe sent out ideas to minds that were willing to accept them. This created tremendous pressure to get the story written before someone else did.

Then I realized writer brains work in similar ways, taking things and putting them together in interesting, unique ways, soaking up information and creating something new. Given current events, why wouldn’t we come up with similar ideas.

 

Final Dreams

I still have the dream, the goal of writing, getting published, and making money. But now I don’t dream of being famous. God knows it isn’t good for me. So selling books a little at a time while writing new ones works for me – more comfort, less stress.

 

Beware

Beware of those writers who aren’t really writers at all, but advertisers, scammers, con-artists selling a dream. The dreams vary from one thief to another, but they all basically tell you the same thing: Give us money and we will teach you how to make money. (Yup. You guessed it. I’ve been scammed.) It’s kinda like an advance pyramid scheme.

Now, to be fair, there is some value in what some of them teach, but the cost is so high.

Think of this as unsolicited advice from one writer to another. You ARE a writer, but please don’t spend your hard-earned money just to have someone tell you what you already know. You may have dreams of making big bucks writing, but you don’t have to pay someone to tell you that, or worse, sell you a different dream from your own.

Go to the people you trust, like this Five Minute Friday community. The small amount of money we pay for the privilege of being hooked up with other writers (31 day challenge) is totally worth it and helps support the ministry for other writers down the line. Seek out other writers and get their hard-earned advice.  Join a writing group, in person preferably. Talk to your librarian. Read books.

 

Good luck, my fellow writers. Write on!

Dream – 10-26-22 – 31 Days of Writing About Writing

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Know

 

My life has been full. I’ve done a lot of things. Most of those things were done with others by my side. I know a lot of things, but that’s because of all the people I know.

 

What I know:

I know how to boil water, cook eggs several ways, make toast, clean most of the parts of my house, do laundry with acceptable results, bake bread, make lasagna, create well-rounded nutritious meals,

I know how to make coffee (perked, drip, Kerig, press, cold-press, espresso latte/cappuccino/short-pull/Americana/skinny/double/triple/frap/iced and others.

I know how to run register, old-style and computer, count out change, and recognize a short-change artist – and it truly is an art form.

I know how to stock shelves with or without a ladder.

I know how to talk to angry, frustrated, scared, happy, grateful, silly, offensive, abusive people on the phone.

I know how to create an advertisement in InDesign. I also know how to format newspaper pages in Quark.

I know how to write a short story, novel, poem (rhymed and unrhymed, metered and unmetered), press release, article, real-life story, interview, letter, card, and note.

I know how to remain invisible.

I know how to get someone’s attention.

I know how to treat someone with respect.

I know how to avoid scammers, salesmen, manipulators, intimidators, dominators, liars, thieves, bleeding-hearts, beggars, and dangerous people who mean me harm.

I know how to read the Bible, worship God, pray to Jesus, ask for guidance from the Holy Spirit, listen to God’s voice, His urging, His direction, His warning. But I’m still learning how to help others to do the same.

I know how to clean up someone else’s mess.

I know how to dig a hole, plant a tree, start a garden and tend it, mulch a patch, cut branches, trim bushes, pick up trash, yell at stray dogs, shoot raccoons, trap possums, help with building projects,

I know how to add supplements to my diet, eat well, eat smart, and help others do the same.

I know a little about essential oils and their uses, but the knowledge base is huge and ever growing.

I know a little bit about raising children.

I know how to identify birds at my feeder.

I know how to play the piano, the organ, the flute and on a lesser level the clarinet, the trumpet, the French horn, the guitar.

I know how to teach.

I know how to research.

I know how to darn socks, repair jeans, sew masks, clothing, pillows, drapes and quilts.

 

What I don’t know:

I don’t know much. The list of what I don’t know grows faster than what I do know.

I don’t know when I’m going to die (this is a good thing).

I don’t know if this household will ever be debt free (even though we’re continually working on it).

I don’t know if all my children are truly saved (I leave this is God’s hands – every day).

I don’t know how to make that little heart shaped thingy on a latte’.

I don’t know how to build a fence.

I don’t know how to change the oil in my truck. I know how to change a tire, but I’m probably not strong enough. It’s a big truck.

I don’t know how to dance with a partner.

I don’t know how to lose weight, my weight, the stubborn extra pounds I carry with me.

I don’t know how to explain the difficult Bible passages.

I don’t know how to explain the easy Bible passages.

I don’t know how to give a sermon or teach a Bible class.

I’m not sure how to write a devotional, though I have written one.

I don’t know how to run the mower, the weed-wacker, the tiller, the Farm-all tractor.

I don’t know how to drive stick, even though someone taught me.

I don’t know how to trouble-shoot a computer, a printer, a copy machine, a fax, a cell phone.

I don’t know how to make nuclear fusion.

I don’t know how to create a sculpture out of stone.

I don’t know how to felt, make things out of resin or glass, drive a fork lift, fix a Lamborghini, write code for spy-ware, or work the line in a factory.

I don’t know how to install a furnace or fix a boiler.

I don’t know how the take blood or use a pressure cuff.

I don’t know surgery, law, or police work.

 

But I know the One who holds the entire universe and heaven in His hand, keeps things running, and teaches everyone what they need to serve Him. And that is the best knowledge of all.

 

“Are not two sparrows sold for a cent? And yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.” – Matthew 10:29-30 (NASB)

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, And before you were born I consecrated you; I have appointed you a prophet to the nations.” – Jeremiah 1:5 (NASB)

“We will know by this that we are of the truth, and will assure our heart before Him in whatever our heart condemns us; for God is greater than our heart and knows all things.” – 1 John 3:19-20 (NASB)

“Even before there is a word on my tongue, Behold, O LORD, You know it all.” – Psalm 130:4 (NASB)

“For He Himself knows our frame; He is mindful that we are but dust.” Psalm 103:14 (NASB)

Know – 10-25-22 – 31 Days of Writing About Writing

 

Concrete

 

We’ve been buying a lot of Quikrete lately. My husband is finishing up the front walkway. We’re hoping it makes shoveling easier this winter. We’re looking forward to an easier walk up to the house.

We had pavers that were starting to crack and sink. It was a cute, country type look, but little by little the walkway became more like a valley. That made it difficult to maneuver when carrying groceries and awkward loads.

Because funds are tight, we are doing the job a little at a time. It’s frustrating and hopeful at the same time.

I feel like my faith is a little like that walkway. Cute and country to begin with, but not solid enough for the heavy load of testing, temptation, loss, trouble.

When I read my Bible every day, spend time in prayer, remember to worship in good times and when I don’t feel like it (especially when I don’t feel like it), I build on my solid faith. God gave me faith when I put my trust in Jesus, but I’m responsible to maintain it and use it.

The walkway has been in the work for a few years, moving down to the driveway a little bit at a time.

My faith is getting solid beneath me as I move toward my home

A little at a time.

 

1 Peter 1:5-8 – Now for this very reason also, applying all diligence, in your faith supply moral excellence, and in your moral excellence, knowledge, and in your knowledge, self-control, and in your self-control, perseverance, and in your perseverance, godliness, and in your godliness, brotherly kindness, and in your brotherly kindness, love. For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they render you neither useless nor unfruitful in the true knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Concrete – 10-24-22 – 31 Days of Writing About Writing

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True

 

 

I used to cover the local Rotary meetings when I wrote for the newspaper. Each meeting included a song or a recitation of the following questions to ask before getting involved in anything. It’s called the Four-Way Test.

Is it the truth?

Is it fair to all concerned?

Will it build goodwill and better friendships?

Will it be beneficial to all concerned?

I began to use these questions while writing my stories for the newspaper, but as a reporter I was assigned stories and didn’t have a choice as to what I should write. I tried to keep as objective as I could, but I wrote with my emotions and bias was difficult to wash out. Depending on the editor, my stories were easily tilted one way or another.

Many times I regretted writing what I did after I saw what my editor did with it. A few stories answered “no” to all four questions.

When I became an editor, I felt I was able to follow those questioned a little better. I got complaints for my editing, but after a little discussion I found some wanted to see more controversy, more roasting of people they didn’t like, more stirring of the emotional pot. Some wanted me to write about something that didn’t happen at the event. Some wanted me to ask different questions. I always came back with an apology for the thing omitted and I requested they write a letter to the editor stating what they had just told me. Letters to the editor were rare.

The newspaper, of course, is to blame. We are fortunate to have the fourth estate, but many times

- stories are given misleading headlines.

- stories are biased by insinuation or outright blaming.

- stories are incomplete, one-sided, leaving out much information that is needed for an informed decision about the subject covered.

- stories are suppositions without proof, attributed quotes, or any quotes at all,

- stories are confusing.

- stories are impossible to double check with the information we are given.

- stories disappear after a few hours.

Which makes the newspaper entertainment, not truth. But that is the world in which we live.

Why do I rant about the newspaper?

Writing for the newspaper was wonderful experience for a me as a writer. I stopped whining about not knowing what to write. I grew a hard shell against complains, criticism and threats. I learned to write thousands of words that I didn’t count (we measured stories in inches) and were sometimes drastically cut.  And I was able to crank out two stories or more per day.

But there was a huge cost to my base morality, my self-respect, and my emotions.

 

I realize now that I only wanted to write the truth. But truth is different to different people. Perception is reality, so it is nearly impossible to argue what truth is or isn’t. (Plus the fact that most of what people told me was off the record.)

Very frustrating for a truth girl.

Now, as I venture back into the world of freelancing, I get to write the truth. If I am unsure what I write is truth, I research, do interviews, or state as such in the piece I am struggling with. If I am found guilty of writing anything but truth, the thing can be rewritten, or revised or rebutted.

 

Volumes are written and published about truth and more volumes are on the way.

So I’ll end with this: There is only one truth.

God’s Word. The Bible. Holy Scriptures. God’s love letter to us. To this volume I submit. I might disagree. I might not understand. I may even misinterpret. But God’s Word is alive and active, and it teaches me in tiny increments, daily, lovingly, deeply, personally.

“Sanctify them in the truth; You word is truth.” – John 17:17 (NASB)

“For the word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” -Hebrews 4:12 (NASB)

“All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness; so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work.” – 2 Timothy 3:16-17

 

 

 

True – 10-22-22 – 31 Days of Writing About Writing

Testimony

 

 

I am going to give you my testimony, or at least part of it. My testimony is a series of refreshings, recommittings, refocusings.

I was raised Christian, but also raised in a classic household. I was trained to speak clearly, play the piano, have fun when the work was done and believe that I would achieve greatness.

Events in my life stand out – most of them because of some negative emotion like shame, fear, terror, anger, betrayal, pain, failure.

I don’t need to share these unless it is directly related to my testimony. This is a skeleton of a memoir.

At seven years old I was embarrassed by an adult. No physical harm came to me, but the event stands out as a curse in my mind. I was a thing to be loved through no fault of my own and a husband was already chosen for me (I thought in my seven-year-old brain). I spent most of the rest of my life working, immaturely, against that curse to the hurt of everyone around me.

But Jesus was with me. I prayed to Him all the time. He protected me.

When I was 12, I promised to follow Jesus for the rest of my life, even if I must give up my life for Him. I spoke it out in public as loud as I could muster. I was stunned when my confirmation mates were not as assured as I was – the beginning of faith-pride.

I was good at school. I did sports. I took advanced classes. I pleased everyone. I took failure very hard. I met people who had a closer relationship to Jesus than I did, and it scared me. I tried to take up the challenge to be as good, if not better, than they, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t understand then that faith-pride is not faith and there can be no competition in following Jesus.

I lived a double life. I tested life and all the things there were to do while holding on to Jesus and saying all the right things.

But Jesus protected me.

I graduated from the right college, worked as a teacher just as I was expected to, had a horrible year (my year in hell) where I got hit with severe anxiety, got severely disciplined on behaviors that were not as they should be given my position and finally gave up. I quit almost all the expectations but one which I clung to.

I got married and found great freedom. My husband was very forgiving and didn’t judge me for being horrible at housekeeping (cooking, paying bills, cleaning, etc.) This was a blessed environment where I could explore things I hadn’t had time for and spread my crazy creations all over the house.

We moved residences with the birth of each child for various reasons and through this chaotic craziness I learned to depend on Jesus for my every day. He blessed me with calm.

But the competitive Christian part of me, that expectation to be perfect, that faith-pride continued to follow me and, I’m sorry to say, I passed it on to my children.

But Jesus protected us.

Over the years I gave up the expectations of my youth. God showed me how I raised my children was different from the world around me because my children were unique. God showed me there were other ways to learn about Him, ways I could explore on my own without the permission of someone in charge.

Through a long series of unfortunate events I left the church we were attending and found a new, non-denominational, Spirit-led church. I was not allowed to serve there. This was humiliating. I was angry. I poured myself into the job I had outside the home. Then I poured myself into two jobs. My marriage and my family and life were completely out of whack.

But Jesus protected us.

I was sick, but functional. I quit my full-time job. Then I quit my part time job. I started healing.

Then my life exploded. But God blessed me with a counselor, a lady who trained me in prayer war.

At that time most of my children were out of the house. One of our daughters suggested a new church and we attended the Saturday night services. We did double for a while, attending my daughter’s church on Saturdays and going to the church where I could not serve on Sundays.

Soon I desperately needed the Saturday services to survive the Sunday services. Something wasn’t right. The explosion was over, and things were back to normal, or so I thought.

The explosion had subsided in our lives, but not in the lives of those who caused the explosion. Confusion, hurt, and lies swirled around me.

Then we got kicked out of our Sunday church.

But Jesus protected us.

And there was peace.

At our new church I was given permission to heal. There were no guilt trips to give or to serve or to act the right way. In fact, all around me were believers who had gone through similar circumstances. I had found the hospital I needed.

Thank you, Jesus, I was home.

I attended church sometimes twice each week. I joined classes. I tried activities. And over and over again I was humbled, gently, lovingly, just like God deals with us. This was a unique church, Spirit-filled, accepting, respecting me for where I had come, honoring my desire to let God tell me my next steps, my next calling, my next job.

Then I got baptized (Matthew 3:13-4:1). I was the oldest one that day and no one cared. No one judged. Just respect, honor, and love … and understanding about the road ahead. Jesus had told me I would be led into the wilderness, and I was. A series of events and disappointments followed. I tracked the days in my baptism journal. I knew it was a special training. God showed me the sins of my past and how He had healed each one. He showed me sins I had committed years ago that needed repentance, and I did. It was 40 days of Holy Spirit School.

 

Jesus gave me peace.

I continue to try things and fail. I also try things and succeed. I got sick again and am healing.

I’m on the journey of being healed of my faith-pride. It’s like I’m a new believer learning to walk.

This time I know I’m weak and it’s okay. I’m walking in the power of Jesus.

 

Testimony – 10-21-22 – 31 Days of Writing About Writing

Lack

 

 

You shall lack nothing

Psalm 34:10 – The young lions do lack and suffer hunger; But they who seek the LORD shall not be in want of any good thing.

In Jesus I lack nothing

Luke 22:35 – And He said to them, “When I sent you out without money belt and bag and sandals, you did not lack anything, did you?” They said, “No, nothing.”

James 1:4 – And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

 

By myself I lack everything

Self-discipline

Joy

Peace

Patience

Love

Direction

Food, money, water, provision

Job, purpose, life

 

The thing I need is Jesus. I need to trust Him to do it all, lead me, protect me, make provision for me, love me through my trials. Jesus comes first, then everything else.

 

I lack nothing if I

 

Trust

 

Lack – 10-20-22 – 31 Days of Writing About Writing

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Always

 

In my life there is no such thing as “always”… except for God.

 

“I will always love you,” said in the moment of high emotion seldom plays out that way.

 

“I will always work for you” is replaced with “I just can’t work here anymore.”

 

“I always do it that way” really means “I like doing it that way when it is possible for me (or when I feel like it) (or I’m saying it because I want to be better than you).”

 

I think always stems from trying to be God.

 

God is the only one who can do always.

 

There is an element of eternity in the word always. Matthew 28:20 – “… teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

 

But we are commanded many “always” commands.

 

I’ve tried doing always on my own. Always faithful. Always available. Always present. Always on time. Always happy.

It’s exhausting.

 

But if I let Jesus have me my seldom becomes always in Him. He grows me and I can do better because of Him, not because I tried harder or sharpened my skill or worked out a million hours this year.

 

Always becomes mine in Jesus.

Always – 10-19-22 – 31 Days of Writing About Writing

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Little

 

Little

Just a little bit helps

Just a little thing means a lot

Little steps make great progress

Little things:

Seconds

Smiles

Tips

Leaves

Bugs

Birds

Window shopping

Little steps

Baby steps

Wash one disk

Write one word

Read one paragraph

Say one prayer

Touch one shoulder

Give a little

Spend a minute

“It’s the little things.”

“It’s the little things that keep us intrigued.” – Daniel Jenner

Little things mean appreciating

Focus on the little things

Spend time with people

One drop added to others leads to a river

Celebrate the small financial wins (like paying one bill, not buying that one thing, setting aside a tiny bit)

Keep a gratitude journal

Slow down

Practice presence

Little steps add up to a long journey

Little words lead up to a powerful speech

Little sentences built to a novel

Little hugs make a big love

Little – 10-18-22 – 31 Days of Writing About Writing

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Together

 

Writers Need Writers

I envy those writers that can co-write a book. I’ve tried, sort of, to write a book with other writers, but it didn’t fly. It’s probably because I’m such a control freak.  

Somewhere in the boxes of notebooks is a mystery set in the town where MadHatters used to meet about an old lady that saw something from her second story window on the main drag in town. We had fun, but it was the season where writers disappear, and we never finished.

Did you know there is a season where writers disappear?

I know of several best-selling books that were co-written by famous authors. There are also famous authors that co-write books with unknown writers. That would be fun!

I know I’m a control freak, especially about my writing, but one thing I am sure of – writers need other writers to grow.

 

Writers Need Editors

The first short story I handed in when I was attending college got a B-. It was only a one-time assignment. I was not given the opportunity to rewrite or work with the professor to make it a better, more believable story. So, in the end, that grade, and the comments, left a bad taste in my mouth and further ingrained my writerly independence.

But as I started writing for publication, I realized I would have to become okay with an editor’s suggestions. In fact, if I wanted to get published, I’d have to do what the editor said.

After the original chaos cleared, I found each editor was very different in what they wanted. Looking back I see this is the best way for a writer to grow. Together the writer and editor makes a new creation which is better than either of them could create alone. That’s because an editor is a reader and sees things the writer doesn’t even know is there. It’s crazy how a writer can toil over a piece and think they know it inside and out, but when a reader gets it they show the writer the shadow, the bright spots, the cracks in the flow, or a new emphasis.

 

Writers Together

When I conducted my first workshops, the writers there challenged me to make things interesting, to find things new to teach them, to find the answers to questions they had, to give them assignments that would grow their skill, and to look at my own work in a new light.

When we created a writing group from those workshops, I felt the gentle pressure to learn more so I could share. I also learned much more from them. My co-conspirators were always talking about new techniques, new authors, the occasional new conference, and always lots of new ideas. I always came away from the meeting with tons of ideas. I took lots and notes.

 

Editors Together

The switch to editor was a gentle one. I had been helping editors with their responsibilities for a few years, so I knew what was expected when I finally landed my editor post. I was pleasantly surprised when I discovered a comradery between editors. It was comforting to know I had several seasoned folks to turn to when I was needing advice.

Editors need editors. They suggest writers that could work and warn against using writers that are difficult to work with. They are an ocean of experience that, by that time, I humbly tapped into.

 

Writers Need Readers

Some writers only journal or write letters or stories or essays that people don’t see. This practice is important for writers. It helps us think, clarify our thoughts and opinions, help us to see our thoughts on paper and perhaps see things we didn’t know where there.

Other writers write for publication. They keep journals, lists, idea files that people don’t see, but they use this raw material to generate products they can sell.

Both writers need readers. Some writers only have themselves for readers. This is fine. Laying something aside for a few weeks and coming back to it creates an emotional space so we can see our mistakes and fix them. Writers that write for publication need beta readers (readers that also write and readers that only read) to see what they don’t see so they can make it the best it can be before sending it to its forever home.

 

Together humbles. Together helps us grow. Together makes us all stronger.

Together – 10-17-22 – 31 Days of Writing About Writing

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Comfort

I find comfort in –  

 

My morning coffee

There’s something comforting about a morning cup of coffee. It tastes better than any other cup of coffee of the day. I take my time and enjoy the moments before it grows cold, before I must leave the house, before the responsibilities of the day pull me away from that comfort.

 

My notebooks

I love coming to my desk and opening my journaling notebook or my Bible study notebook. I know what’s there and I know there are words inside me to fill the pages. It’s just me and my notebook. No one here to judge me.

 

A well-running car

After many break-downs of many cars that were faithful and were trying to be faithful, driving a car with no problems is a comfort … no … a luxury.

 

A pillow

My son didn’t have a favorite blanket when he was little. He had a pillow. It went with him everywhere. Fortunately, it was washable. I love my pillow too.

 

A blanket

Several of my children claimed a favorite blanket, a security while traveling in the van, a necessity at bedtime. They were well-worn and washed often. Recently, I found some worn, white blankets like the ones they layered on me at the hospital. I bought three.

 

A chair

I had a favorite chair that fit me well. I used it for years and loved its comfort. A mouse crawled up inside of it and died. The odor would not be removed. Now I have a new favorite chair that fits me well. It is a comfort to ease into it after being on my feet for a long time.

 

A bed after a long trip

The four-day trip from my mother’s home was difficult. There were long drives and few breaks. There was just enough room for me and my fellow travelers to nap in the comfortable truck, but beds are preferable. Hotel beds are sometimes nice, but we were pushing to make it home. The last leg of the trip we drove through without stopping for the night. After everyone was dropped off, only the essentials were unloaded from the truck before I was reunited with my bed. That feeling of finally relaxing, letting the rest of the world wait, sinking into the mattress and closing my eyes. I love my bed after a long trip.

 

The comfort of a good friend

She listened to me and didn’t interrupt. She didn’t judge or reword my sentences. She asked me questions and helped me clarify my issues. She suggested things to try, ways to pray, boundaries to set, practices to begin, journaling to practice, passages to read. She comforted me and strengthened me. She showed me how to gather that same comfort from God.

 

The comfort of the gospel

The gospel is simple and highly complex, a child can understand and a mystery to many. Jesus came and lived the life we should have lived, loved us even when we were unlovable, sacrificed His needs and finally His life. He rose from the dead, conquering all sin and even death. He showed us how it’s supposed to be done. He told us we can do the same, but only in His strength. Getting strength from Him is a daily practice He Himself teaches me. Let go, He says, I’ll tell you what to do next. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll be there. I’ll guide you through.

He teaches me how to follow the law like He did. He teaches me how to love the unlovable, the smelly, the sandpaper people, the ugly, the hateful, the annoying, the forever-victims. He warns me when things are approaching that I shouldn’t get involved in. He tells me when to walk away. He gives me strength to do the jobs He gives me. He gently guides me through my day. He listens when I worry. He gives me courage when I am afraid. He comforts me when I am mourning. He will show me how to die when the time comes. And He himself will raise me at the end of time. Jesus comforts me.

 

The comfort of heaven

Things get bad down here on earth sometimes. When it’s overwhelming, I think about heaven. I don’t know much about what it will be like, but after a life walking with Jesus I trust His good judgement. I will have everything I need (like I do now), I will see friends and rejoice (like I do now), and I will praise Him with the saints (like I do now) – except it will be without pain, mourning, tears, limitations, and sin.

 

What a comfort!

Comfort – 10-15-22 – 31 Days of Writing about Writing

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Place

A place of our own

 

A place of peace

 

A place to rest

 

A quiet place to think, draw, reminisce, dream, write …

 

Places I’ve written:

My bed

My tiny desk in my bedroom

By the pool

On the curb in front of my house

On the floor in my bedroom

In the bathroom

In the living room

At the kitchen counter

At a make-shift desk inside my bedroom closet

At a desk at school

In a study carrel in the center of the library at college

On the steps going down the hill to the town in winter

In the backseat of my dad’s car

In the front seat while my husband drove the family on trips

In the car in the parking lot at the school where I was reporting on a board meeting

At McDonald’s after work creating a story based on a Shakespeare play

In the car in the park where I could be by myself and collect my thoughts

At a table in the library in a quiet corner

At the desk at work where everyone could see me – no walls

Outside on the back steps pushing the cat away

At the desk at work where you have to stand up to peek over the temporary walls

At the local coffee shop

On the airplane on the way to a funeral

At the huge desk where I was surrounded by mass quantities of paper, notes, and files

At Barnes and Nobel in any chair that’s empty

At my desk at home that my husband built for me next to an eastern facing window where I can see the sunrise as I create another novel for National Novel Writing Month.

I could talk about a place to keep all my words, but I’ll talk about notebooks in another post.

 

 

Barnes and Nobel

McDonald’s

Three Bean Café

Galion Public Library

NaNoWriMo

 

 

Place – 10-13-22 – 31 Days of Writing About Writing

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Born

 

 

I’ve debated if writers are born or made. I don’t think it matters.

What matters is that we encourage all the writers to write:

Their history

Their feelings

Their view of the political environment

Their view of important news events, especially if they were nearby

Their view of life

Their imaginary worlds and the stories from those worlds

Their opinions

Their voice, flavor, texture

Their emotions or lack of them

Their family histories with as much detail as they can discover

Without all those voices recorded for a time 50 years from now when actual events are debated as taking place, the world we leave will believe the lies of those speaking the loudest, or with the most power. We are seeing that now.

History is being rewritten. Voices are being ignored. New, unknown voices with the correct opinions and politically correct language are being heard, promoted, etched in stone at the expense of quieter voices.

But it’s been that way since the world began.

Ancient Egypt was known for erasing their previous kings, and not just the names and history of the king, but the entire history of Egypt at the time of that king. History erased. History rewritten. Recent discoveries of artifacts in unexpected places attest to that erasing. We are learning about kings and nobility we never knew existed.

But we have no control over the future. All we can do is write for our future progeny (familial or professional) and perhaps our words will endure whether we get famous or not.

And we need to encourage those writers to write what we do not believe because we would hope they would do the same for us.

Thank you, Virginia, Loretta, Shirley, Suzanne, and Ted for writing to record personal history. You wrote and wrote your heart and soul and a beautiful baby book was born. 

May your books endure for generations to come and never be silenced.

 

Smashwords.com

Kindle

Lulu.com

Born – 10-12-22- 31 Days of Writing about Writing

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