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In response to a question on Christian Writers-Group ‘The Writers View 2′:
What about your journey? Your expectations? Is the writing life what you thought it would be? What are the negatives and positives for you? How is the writing life what–or different than–you expected?
A question of a journey barely begun.
I may not have begun ‘the writing life’ but life has been preparing me as a writer. Life does that! God revels in it, I suspect… preparation.
A year or three ago when this long-lingering rumour of a writer began to gather some weight, I was all expectations and dreams, wishful thinking and wanna-be. Now, I realise, I need to just relax, and simply be me. The writer is in there, just beginning. The communicator has been developing for many years, and the poet is, of late, a little lost in the mix.
I’ve been writing poetry since I was 15 (give or take some silly cute verse a few years earlier; green frogs and girls, what a combination!) and that is a gift I can only be thankful of; one of those abilities that prompts the questions ‘how do you do it?’ and I simply shrug and say – ‘I don’t know, I just… write’. As a favourite songwriter sings – ‘When I was younger, I would write a bad song every day’ – and I’ve known many of those days, but I have enjoyed seeing the improvement in the craft over the years too. Sometimes, the words just appear on the page and you end up grinning and scratching your head, wondering where on earth they came from! (Of course, we all know where, or who, they’re from…)
As for ‘being a writer’ – What has become of my expectations of ministry, and non-fiction books, and sharing my thoughts and (dare I suggest?!) God-given revelations to the world? Well, as I said – I can simply be me. The paid career is still engineering, soils, data, bridges and tunnels, but my character and spirit are being shaped day by day; God knows my future. My expectations are relaxing, I am less concerned about what I ‘see happening’ and trying to stay aware that if I have faith in what I cannot see, I know I will be better off.
Right now I need to be a husband, a new father, a worship leader, a friend, and, unfortunately, an employee (as I also get to be a mortgage ‘owner’!) Yes, there will be work to be done to move into ‘the writing (teaching/ministering) life’, but as my family and I are about to move across the planet from England to our New Zealand home, I have enough to deal with right now. Perhaps over the next year, opportunity will present itself, but for now, all I can be is me. Take the chances God gives to share who He is and what He has done, perhaps through who I am, and what He has shown me… and simply be His.
He knows what He is doing.
To sing at midnight
we’ve felt the pain
once again
promises broken in the words today
we’ve sat and talked about these paths we’ve walked
sometimes it’s dark, this battle fought
but you, you’ve made your mark
right from the start
it’s unbelievable, incredible
you’ve given us the heart to sing
at midnight
the nights get late as we’ve pondered this fate
that’s turning from chance into the plans you have made
the light you shine beyond the boundary line
to take us beyond our state of mind
but you have taken part in the stories of our hearts
it’s illogical, but wonderful
you’ve given us the heart to sing
at midnight
16/6/98
Time is a remarkable thing. I can’t believe it was ten years ago that I wrote that song. Ok, give or take a few weeks…
It’s a song written from a dark place where I could still see a light shining. A friend was going through an even darker place – but I felt there was hope amidst it all. I began to think of Paul, a follower of Jesus and one of the first people to lead others in Christ’s way… He’s in a Roman jail and worshipping God. I mean, in a rotting stinking jail at midnight worshipping God, and God sets him free. I think he was free even before the doors were broken open and before the chains were undone.
And that’s something much more remarkable than time.
I really want to have my cake and eat it too. And I have no idea what that all means. Just like I have no idea who James May and the hamster really are. I mean, where have they come from? Even Clarkson, why the heck is he the guy on Top Gear? What did he do to get there? Write, race, speak in loud tones?
Anyway, that’s all random rubbish. Truth is, I sat down to write some journal and discovered this cool ‘connect straight to my blog’ thing in Word 2007… so decided I wanted to write something.
Right now, I’m thinking; Write now, I’m thinking!
So what do you want to do in life? What lights your candle and floats your boat? It’s a pretty-cool experience when you discover that thing, or, if you’re really lucky*, those things. What-say you lost your job tomorrow, and on your way home from work and old friend gave you a call and said he’d come into a massive amount of money and he wanted to give you some? Enough for a couple of years of doing whatever you pleased? No need to work, no need to pay the bills either, what would it be?
I know it’s an often-asked question, and a little pie-in-the-sky stuff (and another saying I have no idea about). But, what?
For me it certainly isn’t what I am doing now. Well, actually, it is what I am doing right now. But it’s not what I am doing on Monday morning. And it’s a fairly innocuous question. The scary part, however, is when you think you have an answer. That’s the problem. It’s actually a much easier, safer place to not have a dream, even a calling, sitting there reminding you that your nine-to-five is simply the wrong place to be. And this is where the cake comes in.
I’m in a donut shop and all I want is cake. My suspicion, to add insult to injury (there’s another one) is that I don’t think this cake can be bought. It has to be made. So I’m on the hunt for a recipe. I suspect the ingredients will come along in time. But, first I need recipe. This is assuming, of course, that I’m in charge of the kitchen.
But I know that this donut shop is not the right place, so the taste of donuts, good as it has been for quite some time, is beginning to go a bit stale. I need something fresher. Sweeter.
I just need some cake.
*And there’s no such thing as luck.
Myspace. And a band of younger brothers. How is it that I am inspired to write by html and email and connection and a collection of words. And incorrect grammar. It doesnt seem to matter but my button was already being pushed; another movie; another documentary in which the screenplay writers talk about ‘hows’ and ‘whys’ and it just gets me wondering.
Again.
And if I was to get to it, my point is not so much pointing, but questioning:
Is somebody reading this? And shouldn’t I be writing…?
