The Writer

What is a writer? Is it someone who merely writes…words? Or is it someone who writes words that have been published?

We know what writers want. They want to be read, published, awarded, and known. They want their words to go before them out into the world. Words that will outlive their writer.

In seeking this “great writing” that we know is within us, we make attempts at word-compilation. We mix and match, lengthen and strengthen our vocabulary, and put so much flourish and symbolism into our sentences that it leaves a confused concept. Leaving a reader awed, it fulfills its purpose; yet the reader will not read it over and over again because they cannot understand it. They do not connect with the large words and flowery language. Writers may, perhaps, enjoy it, and even applaud it, but it will not become a masterpiece. Great writing isn’t in the use of extraordinary words and clever phrases (though they have their place in literature…if used sparingly). Rather, words that convey a meaning, mood, and concept that the reader can imagine – not through their own imagination, but through the manifestation of your imagination from thoughts to paper. Readers will see, hear, smell, and feel what you want them to. That is your power.

A real, living story is a result of simple language dispersed with good wording and cunningly conceived concepts, along with well-developed characters, and an intriguing plot, all mixed together with your own imagination. Well, there's probably so much more, and so many other unique things that I haven't listed! But that's the fun of it: discovering, learning. And taking others on the path with you :)

Pick an image in a your head. Any image. A scene from your childhood, maybe. A picture of your grandmother cooking pies in her warm, musty kitchen. A group of boys wrestling each other to the ground, blood and laughter flowing together; friends in a friendly tussle. Now analyze the smells. The sounds. The people’s faces and emotions. Conjure up an image that you can’t see with your physical eyes and, while viewing it through memory and imagination, write about it. Explain it, describe it. But don’t use a lot of words; make it short. Through your writing, you are learning. Your writing must be attractive enough to gain a reader’s interest so that he, too, can come along with you on your journey – connecting with and learning from you.

Your words may feel like yours. And they are – no one thinks like you do! Because each word you put into place, each experience you seek to describe, comes from some outside source. Something that happened to you. Something you read about. So go out and experience!! The more you feel and react to the world around you, the more you will be able to make someone else feel it through your words.

The sounds words make when you put them together is enchanting. Beautiful. But don’t get lost in the way they look and sound. What do they mean? How do they make you react? Don't look at the words as words - make them into an everlasting image...

And change the world :)

learn to love change

School books lie stretched out before me, as does most of the day. A candle burns on the table, its wax turning into a dark pool of fragrant heat. Soup boils on the back of the stove, lending its fragrance to the air.



Outside, the wind blows restlessly; it tickles the trees, trying to make them give up the last of their leaves, and letting a hint of moisture creep throughout its invisible arms. The wind longs for winter – its playground – for it is anxious to play with the snow that is soon to come.

A chicken has escaped her pen, and is pecking at the ground in search of who-knows-what. The dogs begin to bark, shattering the silence like a piece of glass – you can almost see the pieces floating in the air…and then they settle, and you wander around, trying to find where Silence has hidden.

Another leaf releases its hold and glides down to meet its sibling on the ground. A human hand cannot stop it.

So many things happen during the day that we cannot control. Something with always disrupt the schedule. And no matter how hard we try, we can’t stop the leaves from dying and falling. Winter must come – the wind cannot hurry or slow it. And if we cannot grasp the wind, how much less control over the seasons we have!

The day is still there, unchanged. It is I who has changed. The things out of my control get in my way. But today, I will let them go, like so many leaves in the wind. I will thank God for the beauty of each imperfect, unpredictable day. And I will look forward to every change.

Silence

I slip in my earphones, and carry my camera through the woods, lost in thoughts and music. The forest is pretty, but nothing special – already the bright autumn colors are dimming and most of the leaves lie dead on the ground.



I follow Dad and my little brother on a deer trail. My hat and my jacket keep catching on briars and other plants that have thorns. Finally, I turn of my music and shove the thing in my pocket. And I just listen.

Mentally tuning out the soft chatter of my companions, I hold up my camera and – for once – make myself look through the camera’s eyes, instead of trying to make it see the world through mine. I see the sunlight falling through branches and touching them with light. I see the pine needles mixed with leaves creating a soft carpet beneath my feet. I see all the photographic values in the shapes of the nature around me, and I breath in the cool October air with a joy growing inside of me like sunshine lighting my life.



I can FEEL the silence all around me. It’s heavy and pure and makes me want to make a noise. But I don’t. I just listen to the silence, and I relax in it. Lord, please speak to me in the silence…guide me from my chaotic noise. Push out my busy thoughts. Shove off from the world that never stops making noise…and explore the quiet, misty sea of silence that exists all around us – if we know where to look for it.



I’m soon off walking again. The memory stick for my camera is full, so it goes back into my pocket. I’m feeling drowsy and ready for a nap, so I hurry to catch up with Dad and Caleb. The silence is gone for me. Already, I’ve given in to the world and shrugged off the peace in the silence.



And yet I expect God to speak to me – through the TV, music, the internet, books, tapes, and my swirl of thoughts that never stop going. Because if I stop thinking about the world and my life, I am forced to let God into my mind and heart. The water takes me away, and I am frightened. I don’t want to drown in God’s peace and quiet; I seek the comfort of noise. I’m afraid to put God in control again. God, what do you think you are doing? This is my life, I had plans. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. So I take the wheel and pilot myself back to shore.



Later I’m reminded that I’m feeling rushed and I don’t want to be. The water laps at my feet. Teach me to let me let You take me away…