I didn’t have a blog to post last Wednesday because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. Some weeks, my pen can’t move fast enough to keep up with the thoughts in my head, and other weeks, my brain is simply molasses and I am stuck.
I don’t want to throw something together each week just for the sake of saying, “Here’s my Wednesday post!” When this experiment started at the beginning of the year, my social media engineer, Megan, suggested I write every other week so that I wouldn’t be under pressure on a weekly basis. I nodded my head in response and then promptly did the opposite of what she advised! I guess I figured I would build an audience quicker by posting weekly, not realizing just how much that requires while also working a full time job and being present to my family.
I am not sure where my writing is taking me. All I know is that I’ve done it in some way, shape, or form for most of my life and will continue to do so.
My first official foray into writing was when I was 12 years old and wrote a “novel” that I very dramatically entitled, “Is Life Worth Living?” I typed it up on the brown and white typewriter I got as a gift in 4th grade, and it came out to about 80 pages. The lady I babysat for in our neighborhood at the time showed it to her stepdad, who had some connections in the publishing world, and while he gave me positive feedback, things never went any further. I still have the original copy in a desk drawer downstairs in our basement. That initial “book” paved the way for some other adventures in writing….
I wrote a column for our local newspaper the first year my husband and I were married.
I developed an idea for a greeting card line for people who were living with grief. I called it “Love Lives On”.
I took a few classes in fiction writing and gave my goddaughter a new, original Christmas story penned by me for the first 4 or 5 years of her life. I even had an article published by a Christian magazine called LIVE!
While I don’t know that I will ever make a living as a writer, I still want to write as I make my life. It helps me pay attention and take notice.
My most regular outlets for writing are the journals I’ve kept since my early 20s, and the cards I write to other people. In this electronic age, there is something profoundly meaningful about putting pen to paper and then going back at a later date to re-read those thoughts. When I look back now on some of my journal entries from 25 years ago, I shudder a bit at how melodramatic and self-absorbed I was. And yet, what a gift it is to also reflect, “Thank God I’ve wised up a bit since then!”
Writing cards to others has been a consistent practice for me for several years now (thanks, Mom, for leading the way!) and it is simply stunning how a handwritten card with a few heartfelt words (well, in my case, it’s usually more than a “few”!) is so deeply meaningful for the people who receive them. People need to know they matter to someone else, and if my words can help convince them of that, then I will continue to buy cards in bulk from Current Catalog and fill them with my own musings.
These days, I’m mulling over a few ideas for a book and have found myself distracted with fleshing those thoughts out, so forgive the erratic nature of my posts going forward. I will keep nurturing this journey that I dubbed “The Holy Mess”, but if you’re going to take the time to read it, I want to make sure it’s worth reading. So, if a Wednesday goes by without a post, I haven’t forgotten you: I’m still listening for what God wants me to say next!
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