Why Do We Write?

What is it about a blank page that begs to be written on? Is it the fresh, new start? Is it the chance to leave a mark, a lasting impression where none exists? Is it the simple flow of ink from pen to page?

Before computers and even before typewriters, one used paper and pen to build volumes of inspirations and stories. Did the writers of old stare at a new sheet of paper with more respect than we writers today regard the next page, an easily discarded piece in our computer documents?

Do we slave and strive today to fill our pages with words that matter? Life-changing, soul-wrenching, spirit-cleansing words? Or have we become one of many medias bombarding the masses with shallow and selfish information designed to give a quick fix of entertainment satisfaction?

So many ponderings...so many words to ask one simple question. Why do we write?

Source: Dineen Miller's blog "Kittens Come from Eggs."

Last in the Class

An amazing thing happened this week to drill in the lesson of 2 Corinthians 12:9: "My power is made perfect in weakness."

Friday night I was on my way to a concert and took a wrong turn. I was totally lost and hopelessly late when I randomly chose a side road on which to turn around. About half way down the quiet suburban street, I came across a man lying motionless on the side of the road beside a running car with the passenger door standing wide open.

A young man materialized from the driver's side of the car on his cell phone and confessed to the 911 operator that his father had heart disease and diabetes but he didn't know CPR.

The fallen man had no pulse and was not breathing. It appeared to be a heart attack. With no one else in sight, I was the best choice - the only choice - of helping this man. Panic filled my guts. To fully comprehend this, you must understand that I was dead last in the CPR class I had taken years before. The instructor only signed my card to get rid of me after everyone had gone home and I was still fruitlessly pounding away on my dummy. I was about as unqualified a rescuer as you could get.

To abbreviate the story, I ended up doing the Debbie version of CPR on this poor man for 10 minutes before EMS arrived. I couldn't remember the correct positions, ratio of chest compressions to mouth-to-mouth breaths, or much of anything else, but I figured something was better than nothing.

After three cycles of CPR, his chin quivered and he vomited. We had a heartbeat. Praise God! I could hear the ambulance siren in the distance so I just kept compressing until the EMT's took over. He never regained consciousness but he was breathing and had a heartbeat as they drove him away.

Returning to my car, I was shaking so violently that I couldn't turn the ignition key and fumbled my cell phone across the floorboard. Tears finally came and I realized I shouldn't even have been there. It was so obvious that God had orchestrated the whole ordeal . . . from the wrong turn to my random choice of turn-around streets.

How marvelous that our God's preferred M.O. is to use inadequate, unqualified people to serve as His hands and feet. Even if you're dead last in your class.

Wet Noodles

It was the day of the biggest speaking event of my life. And I was in tears.

I had submitted queries, brochures, phone calls and letters for nearly two years to the largest church in town, hoping and praying for an invitation to share the joy of the Lord - and my new book, Mom Needs Chocolate.

It finally came to pass in the form of a huge women's event for which they expected 450 attendees. I was thankful, of course, and thrilled . . . at least at first. Then I realized my tried and true speech would not fit into the unusual format of the program. What to do?

Three days before the highly advertised program, I was assaulted by a nasty head cold which descended into my chest in record pace. Two hours before the program, I was sniveling and snorting all over myself, hacking my lungs out after every five croaking words.

The gunk in my throat was thick enough to caulk a battleship.

My brain seemed to be encased in quicksnot as well, for I could not, for the life of me, figure out how to piece a workable speech together. My outline just wasn't right but I didn't know how to fix it. Curled up in a ball on my bed, all I could do was whimper. I was about as lifeless as a wet noodle, and nearly as intelligent.

"Papa God," I prayed, "I'm in a mess here. I REALLY don't know what to do. I feel totally helpless . . . hopeless. Won't you please, please help me?"

Like a soothing cup of hot tea with honey, 2 Corinthians 12:9 poured into my mind: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." I could almost hear His still, small voice whisper, "I was just waiting for you to ask, dear child. Wet noodles are my specialty."

Almost immediately, my thoughts began to crystillize and I sat straight up, suddenly seeing exactly what needed to be done to my speech. Rushing to the computer to delete, add, and adjust my outline, I realized that my throat was clearing up and my voice was returning to normal.

Later that night, tears flowed again. This time they were tears of gratitude that if the pasta will only recognize its limitations and submit, the Master Chef is more than able to turn limp, useless, wet noodles into the finest of gormet cuisines.

The Editing Letter

This was passed to us from our editor at Vintage, Dawn Carrington. All writers will enjoy! Plus...what a clever way to promote a book!

Dream Job

Did you read about the British man who won the contest for the "World's Best Job"? He gets to live on a tropical Australian island for six months. His assignment is to enjoy the island and write a blog to promote the area.

He won the contest because he convinced the judges that he never said no to adventure and that he would make the role and the blog "his own."

If you watch American Idol, you may recall that the judges are always saying that to the contestants: make the song "your own."

Which leads me to my first question: how does a writer make the work "his/her own?" I'd love to read your thoughts.

You may have another question. I do. How do we get a job blogging from a tropical island for six months?

Writing with Integrity

An excerpt from Grit for the Oyster: 250 Pearls of Wisdom for Aspiring Writers:

Keep integrity of words and deeds on the forefront of your reputation. Always do what you say and say what you do.

Avoid criticizing others. Blowing out someone else's candle doesn't make yours - and certainly not Jesus' - shine brighter.

In a business where words are the business, it's easy to let our tongues wag a little too loosely and allow gossip to become second nature.

"Don't bad-mouth each other, friends. It's God's Word . . . that takes a beating in that kind of talk. You're supposed to be honoring the Message, not writing graffiti all over it" (James 4:11, TM).

From the chapter entitled "Cracked Mirrors" by Debora M. Coty

Oprah and Me

Have any of you seen the June issue of Oprah's O magazine? It's called For the Love of Dogs!

Now...I could be outraged, except for the fact that titles can't be copyrighted.

But I'm actually quite pleased.

For once...Oprah is copying ME, rather than vice versa.




If you have a minute to spare, a number of my friends are contacting Oprah and filling out this form to have her consider adding my book to her reading list. Join the ground swell!