I sometimes don’t know which comes first.
The character I’m writing who I suddenly realize is dealing with struggles I relate to. Or struggles of my own that I see more clearly because one of my characters decides to deal with them in their own way.
Unlike characters in books, however, I don’t go through a wild adventure in a week’s time that overcomes my flaws at once.
It isn’t a new idea. It isn’t revolutionary.
But it bears repeating.
As Christians, we should not sit down to create the next great Christian piece of art, be it a book or painting or movie. It’s a terrible idea and if that’s all we have to go on it will end up stilted, cringy, and dull as a rusted coin that’s lain in a gutter all winter.
Do you ever love something so much you actually hate it?
Example: Amazing book. Tears out your heart. Shreds it with sharp fingernails and hands it back to you with a serving of thematic truth, raw emotions, and a glaze of carefully crafted prose and self-doubt. Continue reading
Nothing is ever enough, have you noticed that?
The money we make. The respect we earn. The satisfaction in a job well done. No sooner do we accomplish one goal than we make ourselves another. And in the end we are left, surrounded by all we have gained and wondering one question. Continue reading
Humans are good at excuses.
Especially teenage humans. I work with *counts on fingers* fifteen of them at the moment.
If personal responsibility was a diamond glittering at the side of the road, they’d cover it with palm fronds and hurry on before anyone could ask them about it.
Do you know the most aggravating thing about living on a tropical island?
Living on a tropical island.
I don’t want to write sometimes.
I don’t want to write a lot of times if I’m honest. I love the idea of writing, but actually sitting down in a chair and focusing on words is another matter. It’s not that I’m stuck and can’t write. I’m just lazy and don’t want to.
I like information, okay?
How do things work? How do people think? What’s the best way to do a thing?
Failing hurts. We try. We give everything we have and it’s not enough. Or we try and get it wrong. The best intentions and efforts don’t guarantee us success.
It’s life. We’re going to fail.
Why do we write? Authors put hours and weeks and months into a project. They pound their head against walls, or sometimes against keyboards to see if any of the gibberish that results has merit.
And for what?
A few dollars, perhaps? A glowing review? Someone somewhere kinda knowing their name?