Sorry folks, I feel dastardly for not having anything solid and stimulating prepared, but I just can’t seem to put two sensible sentences together this week. Hence, another barrage of witticisms from someone other than myself. Hope you find within some life-altering affirmation of your writerly qualifications. 😉
Writers must be keen students of human nature, or they will infect society with a false view of the world. And of course, the best source of human nature analysis is the Bible because it is God’s perspective and His opinion of us is more important than any psychologist’s.
Have I a witness?? I haven’t done this in a while because the very prospect is so horrifying it scares me into circumspect attention to the contents of my purse. As a result of carrying my Bible, notebook, journal, drivers handbook, wallet, pens, phone, tracts, and any other haphazard miscellanea at all times, I have had to upgrade to a purse of Mary Poppins proportions. Convenient and inconvenient simultaneously.
It can be trying to one’s nerves to have one’s entire arsenal of pens sticking out of one’s aforesaid Mary Poppins bag, which happens to be knit and thus riddled with intriguing holes. But even more trying is the situation that arises when half your family in startling succession clamor for a pen and you fish within your catch-all to no avail. Naturally, we practical creatures choose to carry enough pens to supply the world, rather than face the chaos of a shortage.
Alas, this happens all too frequently. Have meticulous editors all gone on strike? Or become extinct? Or bought the wrong prescription of reading glasses?
I am currently in training, beginning ambitiously with my own home. I think I would make a rabid grammar police. Do you suppose employers would appreciate an item in my resume concerning my success at teaching my siblings and their friends to shout “I!” instead of “Me!”?
Inevitably, a scintillation sparkles through my thoughts at that crucial moment between waking and sleeping, and drags me back to consciousness and my memo app, trembling with the indescribable terror that I might lose the idea of the century. Then the combined conspiracies of the light from my phone screen and the adrenaline of creativity become accomplices that hold me hostage to wakeful brainstorming for the next exhausting hour. One of the most blissful agonies known to man.
Definitely true if you are a pronounced introvert with no natural gumption who starts writing at seven years old and falls out of love with a story as fast as she falls in love with it because yet another plot idea has seized her fancy. Yes, that is me. And it might be you.
(all pictures by me)