Writer's Block

I am a man who lives in a world of words.  I read the words of God every week and am changed by their power.  I give those words away to a people who are removed from them by time, culture, and language.  I read stories told by master storytellers, not so much getting lost as finding my way.  And it is not just words.  I am an amateur linguist, but the words are pieces.  I am more interested in the puzzle then the parts.  I sit at the feet of Jesus and learn the power of story.  I can't remember four points, but I I know fishes and families and sleeping and eating.  And Jesus tells this story to help earthen vessels grasp heavenly truth.

    So, I tell stories.  I collect them, walk with others in them, watch them, read them, live them, share them, search for them.  And I have this here blog to share some of what I find.  I generally put a blog up every Monday at 10a.  That is my goal.  But this Monday, there were no words.  And that is part of a larger problem.  For I am attempting to write a novel, a long form narrative with characters and themes who have been living inside my head for a decade.  And in April I hit a wall.  I was making great progress preparing the manuscript for the editor, hacking and slashing and burning up the keyboard.  And then it stopped.  It was a great wall.  I think the astronauts could see it from space. 

    I would sit down at my desk in the silence after bedtime and just stare.  I would drive during the day turning over the story in my mind.  I could see jumbled scenes, terrible and wonderful before me.  But they were all cut off from one another.  The story was breaking loose from itself.  It was getting bigger and bigger while losing its center. 

    I was worried about the form.  I was worried about the words and the voice using the words.  I am not a great writer.  But I long to be a good storyteller.  So today I let go of the pressure of writing something great.  I am just gonna tell this story.  I am gonna let it be what it is.  Every night for 30 minutes I push.  It is not much time.  But it is time.  And this novel is gonna get to the editor.  It is going to be birthed into the world with much struggle, but the struggle will be worth it.  

    So.  Here are the promised words, 5 days late.  But they are honest, they are hopeful, and they come from a fullness.  Enjoy.