Vol II: #41 Back To What I Love
I don’t feel guilty or ashamed. And I don’t feel a need to offer an excuse or apology. I stopped writing because I was busy- with school, new friends, and processing pain and trauma. And Ben finally returned to Redding in early October. (He deserves an entry or two of his own but for now, I’ll stay focused on my inattention to blogging.)
A truth I now embrace is I love to write and its process- the way the words appear from behind a short flashing line, and suddenly on my screen is something new and alive. These are my thoughts, experiences, and opinions. None of them are more or less valid than those of other writers. But, they are and will ever be mine. And no, I’m not a savant. I’m not Shakespeare, Malcolm Gladwell, or CS Lewis, but I am one of the few willing to labor in the backwater of life, unseen and anonymous. I am willing to create and work without reward or recognition. I’m either brilliant or mad and probably a bit of both.
I’ll confess to you: I want to find my voice as a writer. Up till now, I have often tried to sound like authors I admire such as Gladwell or Anthony Bourdain. It’s what someone does when they lack the courage to be themselves. Cooks longing to become chefs recreate the glory of the masters they admire, and I, on this very website, committed the same insecure acts. I tried to imagine the voice of Anthony Bourdain narrating as I wrote. While fun, it’s in vain. I’ll never be Anthony Bourdain. Thankfully.
Recently, I was assigned a book to read. The content of the book- the power of forgiveness- was outstanding. The writing and style were God-awful. I mean, it was really bad. It’s a book no one would publish if the author didn’t have “family connections.” Fortunately, the content of a book can trump the innate talent or skills of the author. I liken it to a poorly shot YouTube video with millions of views. Without arrogance or pride, I know I’m a better writer than that guy. The thought spurred me back to these pages. This is where I want to be, even if it comes to nothing. (The reality is most Christian books are poorly written and lack creativity. I consider it a curse of 21st Century Christianity, as though story-telling is an art best left to the world…)
My goals are no longer about how many blogs I produce or how well each blog or poem is written. The volume of work is a matter of time and polish is the skill of an editor. My purpose on these pages is to write with fire and conviction. From this day forward, I make no promises. I’m going to write more on weekends- when I have time. And I’ll likely write with more passion and less finesse. My entries will likely be short, but perhaps long too. Regardless of what it looks like, I believe this is my new frontier. (Who knows? Maybe I’ll attract a few more readers than my two regulars. You know who you are and I love you.)
(I totally wrote a similar post in late October. LOLOLOLOLOL. #noshame Unlike that post, I’m ready to write again.)
