The Writing Life — Passion and Responsibility (By Peter A. Black)

Are you a writer? Or, perhaps you wouldn’t call yourself a writer, per se—as yet, but you do have a growing interest in producing some written work; you sense that you would like to create something written—present some ideas, experiences or stories to share with others.

Some writers, it seems, once they’ve discovered writing, have little interest in anything else.

Once they’ve found their own writing voice, many will never be the same again.

They feel that they’ll never be satisfied unless they’re writing nor their lives be complete, unless they complete their latest WIP (work in progress) and see it through to publication. Writing has become their passion. I’m grateful to have enjoyed more than a bite and the sweet taste of such exhilaration. 

It’s true: creative writing does change the writer.

Whether the work is an opinion piece, biography or fiction, something of the writer gets invested,

Ad hoc selection pulled from my library;

some quite old, some fairly young.

transmuted onto the page. That self-investment might sit within the covers for decades—even centuries, waiting to be discovered.

An author may die, yet whenever their book is opened and its contents intelligible to a reader possessing a working knowledge of the language and terminology in which it was written, the author ‘lives again,’ as it were. Such is the case of “the Bard”—William Shakespeare’s work.

This is often the case with the Biblical Scriptures. For me, the Bible doesn’t come across as a musty, dusty and irrelevant relic. The writers of the various volumes within it and the lives and situations they wrote about stand out in three-dimensions—maybe four! None is brought into relief so clearly as the Saviour Redeemer, Jesus Christ; He emerges as the chief character (cp. John 5:39; Luke 24:26,27).

Writers’ self-investment in their written work has potential to recreate in the reader’s mind the scenarios described or portrayed—the sights, sounds, scents. Readers’ emotional feelings can be stirred and their attitudes undergo modification, their values adjusted for better or worse and for good or evil. They may come to know themselves more deeply, by seeing themselves mirrored in  the characters.

The ideas and thoughts that the author has personally invested in the work or those portrayed through the characters can become the reader’s own.

Therein lies the point at which writers’ passion for their art intersects with their responsibility.

If readers of my work should happen to embrace my ideas and thoughts and inculcate the values advocated through them, are goodness and grace likely to be the outcome in their lives and relationships?

Or . . . Or what . . .? 

~~+~~

Peter A. Black is a retired pastor – well, sort of retired – and lives in Southwestern Ontario. He writes a weekly inspirational newspaper column, P-Pep! and is author of Raise Your Gaze ... Mindful Musings of a Grateful Heart, and Parables from the Pond – a children's / family book. ~~+~~

Hope for a Town - Eleanor Shepherd

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            Megan preferred to take her companion, Buddy to the dog park on her lunch hour. In a small town like Smithville, it was easier to avoid the stares or nudges of people if she did not go when the regular crowds gathered there with their dogs in the morning or the evening.

            However, on this particular day, in spite of choosing the usual time when the park was otherwise unoccupied, a man who said his name was Josh showed up. She had not seen him in Smithville before and assumed that he was on his way through to Green Valley to the south, and had taken the route through Smithville to avoid the traffic. 

            As Megan was returning her water bottle to her backpack after giving a drink to Buddy, Josh spoke up and asked her if she would mind giving her some water for his dog, Esprie. 

            From the accent, Megan assumed that Josh was an immigrant and was surprised that he asked her for water for his dog. Usually immigrants avoided contact with the townspeople, as there had been several incidents where the encounters between the two groups of people had been quite unpleasant. Word had gotten around that the best thing to do, if your are an immigrant passing through Smithville, is to avoid the natives as much as possible and get through there as quickly as you can. Don’t expect any help or hospitality from them. 

            Thus Megan commented, “I am surprised that you, as an immigrant are asking me for water for your dog. That is highly unusual in these parts. Usually immigrants avoid us Smithvillers, especially after the shooting last year.” 

            She was even more amazed at Josh’s response. “You have no idea of the good things that God has in store for you, and who is asking you for the water. If you did you would be asking me for the kind of water that I can provide.” 

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            “With all due respect,” responded Megan, “you don’t even have a backpack and it looks like all you have with you is your pooch. Where exactly is this source of water that you are offering?” 

            She continued, “You may not know that Smithville has a source of pure water that we bottle and sell and it is the envy of this province and the two neighbouring ones. Where does your water come from?”

            Josh then clarified, “The kind of water that I am talking about is a source that comes from within and refreshes the spirit and keeps on bubbling up and never stops.  

            “Now that,” said Megan is the kind of water that I am interested in. “I get so tired of trying to prove my worth again and again, constantly depending on the rare words of encouragement that come my way from time to time. Can you point me to the source of the kind of water you are talking about so I can break out of this vicious circle of seeking?”

            She was shocked at Josh’s response. He told her, “Go, bring your husband here to the dog park to meet me.” 

            “Megan replied, “I don’t have a husband.” 

            “That’s right,” replied Josh. “You are telling me the truth. You do not currently have a husband. You have been married five times and your current partner is not your husband.” 

 

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            “Well, Josh, I can see that you are some kind of fortune-teller or guru or something. You immigrants often seem to be pretty religious, but we have our churches and our beliefs here in Smithville and we are pretty orthodox. We don’t need your crazy ideas.”

            Josh said, “God desires for everyone to know how much He loves them. He has sent me to tell you and everyone else I meet that this is true. He has shown us in His Son that we can enter into a relationship with Him.”               

            “I have heard that,” said Megan. “I think I could believe it if I could meet the Son.”

            “I am He,” answered Josh. 

            At that, Megan left her backpack and even her dog, and running out of the dog park she headed for home, stopping only to tell those she ran into on the way, that she had incredible news. An immigrant at the dog park knew everything about her and made her realize her value to God. Could he be God’s Son, as he said? Please come and see. 

            They came and they believed.  

            He still comes to our Smithvilles.  Leave a message if you want to know more. 

Word Guild Award
2011

Latest Out

Word Guild Award
2009

             

Blooming Writers By Ruth Smith Meyer

Recently, I was asked to help a group of interested people begin a new writers’ group in our town.  Many of those attending have dabbled in writing, one was involved in an on-line group where they shared their stories or poems, but all were eager to become more intentional with their writing. 

The first evening, I took a few articles to set on the table around which we sat. I introduced them to the “Hot Pen” method, where you begin to write whatever comes to mind when you look at an article and just let it flow.  Everyone was amazed at how many different themes could come from one article. They fell in love with that burning pen as they call it.  We have continued this exercise—sometimes it’s from an article, sometimes it’s a given sentence, sometimes a hint of a theme, but always we are astounded all over again what different writing comes from the same cue.

One writer, no matter what the prompt, is inspired to write her musings in poetry, one always finds a way to give her reflection an odd twist with a sense of humour, one seems each time to find a life lesson and still another evokes tender memories from the past that moves all our hearts.

On reflection, I believe that is one big reason I like reading so much—to see things through others’ eyes; to get another point of view; in other words, to widen my horizons. 

Similarly, I like to write to let others see what I see, to present how I understand the world around me, how I experience life.  When my writing begins a conversation—either to identify with me or to challenge me, then I feel deep satisfaction.

In the writer’s group to which I’ve belonged for many years, critique has been a valuable support and growing opportunity for me. At first there were some who almost shook with fear when we began to critique each other’s work.  It felt to them as though their work was being torn apart. I think we all would miss it now if we had no opportunity for that.  

With the new group, it seems too early for critique.  First they need to become comfortable with writing and sharing. It’s still all so new. They’re still discovering the beauty of putting their thoughts into words and sharing it with a small group of people with whom they feel safe.

 It warms my heart to see these new writers opening up to bloom, one petal at a time.

Ruth Smith Meyer is a writer/inspirational speaker who enjoys life and all its challenges.  Currently she is writing a history of her church.

She invites all to visit her at her website:  www.ruthsmithmeyer.com

More Lessons to Come

 As long as we live, we really ought to keep on learning. The other option to that is being stagnant or dying. Tough words, but they’re true. Think of seniors who take up university studies. They now have the time to devote to it and they want to keep learning. Or people who do crossword puzzles to keep their minds active. 

I teach seniors at a community centre. Now that they have more time on their hands, and perhaps a little extra cash, they often strive to learn new things and keep their gray matter (brains) working. In my class they’ve learned about writing. Two of my students have written their life story and had them published. Other classes I've taught include learning about setting up a blog and writing posts, as well as storytelling. Bucket list or continuing to learn doesn’t matter, but what does is their willingness to keep on being a student, regardless of their age.

Recently I watched a video of seniors in a dance lesson on a Facebook post. In the article and accompanying video, the writer quoted a study out of McGill University in Canada in which researchers and participants discovered that “learning the steps necessary to tango actually improved brainpower and balance.” The participants were seniors who had “experienced a fall within the last year and were scared of falling again.” Otherwise the seniors were healthy. It showed that when we learn something new, the brain develops new pathways and the mind becomes more alert.

Patricia McKinley’s current research program through McGill University investigates leisure-based physical activities that promote health and well-being in vulnerable populations, especially those that use dance as a rehabilitation tool. I’d like to see some of those studies take place in our fair cities and help people I know.

What I do know, that many mature citizens are also learning, is the balance between learning and continued enjoyment of life. I’m a bit younger than many of those I teach but I decided before Christmas that I wanted to learn to play guitar and was planning to take lessons. My youngest daughter had a guitar sitting around while she still lived at home, and I had played with it some, but there were just too many demands on my time and I let it go, but now… I’m taking lessons. 

I took my daughter shopping with me and we found a guitar that had a good sound and was the right size for me. We also got a few necessary items, including new coated strings that would be easier for a beginner. And I, too, have joined others taking lessons as a mature learner—developing new neural paths that the art demands. Like rocking and rubbing your tummy at the same time. With the guitar, one hand is strumming (hmm, still working on that one), and the other hand playing the chords and notes and trying to coordinate the two. But I’m determined. Some of the chords that were hard at first are now easier, and my instructor says the strumming is coming along. He’s been playing for 60 years, so he knows strumming. Thus I have hopes that new neural paths are developing in my brain that will allow me to accomplish this task. I have a couple of tough chords yet to master.

 

So today, with a bit of cash, I’m going to gather a few extra accessories, ones that seem essential since I’ve begun this journey. No big stage plans, just something I’ve often wanted to learn. And now a buddy to play guitar with would be helpful, and I can play whatever tunes I want to learn. I’m happy that my teacher likes gospel songs, so they’ll be in my repertoire too. 

As my teacher says, "The road to Carnegie Hall, is practice, practice, practice."  

"I'm not planning on Carnegie," I joked with the recreation coordinator after the second lesson, "but I will  practise." And I am doing just that. There's more than one way to worship.

 

"Sing to him, sing praise to him; tell of all his wonderful acts." Psalm 105: 2a

Carolyn Wilker is an author, editor, avid gardener and a perpetual learner.

www.carolynwilker.ca