I haven’t been taking my own advice.
I’m sure in one of my blog posts, somewhere, I’ve gone on and on about how waiting around isn’t always the answer. Like waiting for someone to tell you what to do with your life or who you are. Those things aren’t really meant for someone else to explain to you. You have to figure them out.
I know that. And yet I’ve been waiting.
And here I am nearly six months later, finally getting on with it. It dawned on me the other day that I’d been waiting for an epiphany when I should have just been figuring out how I want it to go and going for it.
Blasted fear of failure. I will not follow you.
My very first writing conference (Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference – 2009) I sat in the front row of a classroom where the teacher (Cec Murphey) asked, “Why do you write?”
I nearly threw my hand up and blurted out my answer. I write because I love stories, and I have them bursting out of me. So glad I didn’t raise my hand. Murphey went on to explain that a person should write BECAUSE HE HAS SOMETHING TO SAY.
And there, dear friends, is where I’ve been stuck
What do I possibly have to say? I mean I write on here about my struggles, and you kindly read about them, but they’re random and disconnected (unless you count that messed up and broken theme that keeps popping up.) And so far, I haven’t nailed down what my particular contribution to the world should be.
How many other people out there feel this way?
We all want purpose, direction, meaning in our lives. It’s part of being human—our desire to matter. It’s not a bad thing, unless it usurps everything else. It’s ironic really. The “Purpose” search is all about us, but then in the end when it’s actually figured out, it’s not about us at all.
And that’s where I am. I’m turning away from the mirror and looking at you.
The things I write are for people to read. And I want my stories to be read because maybe in some way they will help someone. Maybe they’re not all about zombies or lovesick teenagers (actually none of them are), but they are about imperfect people who are searching for meaning and have to navigate through their mistakes.
Maybe that will be enough for now.
So, I embark on a new journey. It’s scary. But it’s going to be good. It’s going to take me to a place of serving through my writing that I’ve never been before, and that’s because of you.
Thank you. You matter, and I’m grateful to be a part of your blog-reading, Balustrade-wondering world.
How about you? Are you still waiting? Or has your journey begun?