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Category: Writing


CYI Memorial Park (

I used to write for an audience, and I still consider — usually — the weight and effect of each word. But more often than not, I write for myself: to calm down, to remember, to clarify elusive thought, to analyze my anger, to dream.

I write an essay during church, using the scripture or song as composition prompt. I scribble notes on a pad while cooking, while reading, when I wake in the middle of the night. (One sheet of yellow paper on the floor beneath my bed holds a single line, describing the work of a medical researcher, pulling away a layer of skin, trying to find the face of God. I don’t know where it came from or when. But I recognize the handwriting as my own.)

Even now, as I type, I look at the clock and realize I’ve been at this for close to an hour.

And I wonder, will anybody read this?

Does it matter?

pulling away a layer of skin, trying to find the face of God

Satisfied to Wait

Black Butte fire lookout (

In pursuing the dream of supporting myself as a writer, I’ve unwittingly become a kind of hero to some. No one’s actually come up and asked for an autograph, but the frequency with which questions about my success occur makes it feel as if my friends are trying to live their own dreams through me. At first, it was flattering. But it seems there’s a certain amount of judgment attached to the vicarious life.

I am sick of this question: “Are you syndicated yet?”

And this one: “How many newspapers carry your column?”

People genuinely want to know how I’m doing. But too often, these questions lead to the litany of advice, the list of things I should be doing and am not. And won’t.

I am satisfied to wait, rather than turn even this — the secret pleasure of creation — into a 9-to-5 occupation.

I am satisfied to wait


Innocence & Experience (

“To write is to learn more about oneself.” But I would add that writing, itself, is about much more than self-discovery (as valuable and true as that is).

For me, writing does help to clarify what I’m thinking and why I’m feeling. Beyond that, however, it provides a means of connecting, of reaching out to others within my community and around the world.

It seems that writing, with its capacity for bringing us together (even across boundaries of time), carries within it the seeds of God’s Kingdom, a living, breathing creature that transcends physical place and present tense.

writing, itself, is about much more than self-discovery

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