It’s fun to read other writers’ thoughts about writing.  Loula Grace Erdman, describing her life as a writer, helps me accept my own idiosyncrasies.  She reinforces my decision to back away from the Christian writer’s conference.

I know I can write short stories that will sell.  It’s just that what I want to say won’t fit inside a short story.  And it can’t be “felt” with the proper passion if I have to mimic a non-fiction narrative style that resembles a Walter Cronkite newscast.  Life is poetry.  I don’t want my life to end up as a newspaper account next to an advertisement for denture cream.

I know I could write my own story about the Cox cable programming debacle.  But it’s definitely more satisfying to feed my information to Tamara Dietrich at The Tribune.  While she busies herself as a reporter tackling the details, I can turn my back on The Tribune and write my own escapades and ruminations.  Truthfully?  I rather enjoy anticipating how Tamara will weave the details of the Cox story together…guessing whether I will come off as a nosy busybody or a valiant Jenny-on-the-spot citizen.

Each writer has her own place in history.  What does publishing have to do with writing anyway?  I hear others explain how much they want to be published.  They envision fame garnished with fat royalty checks.  I am a stranger in their world.  I don’t want to publish.  I want to communicate.  I want to share.  I have something to say.  And publishing has nothing to do with that.

Writing experts say there are too many writers focused on publishing.  I say there are too few writers focused on the message.  When I run out of message, then I’m finished with writing…no matter how well I can craft a sentence.

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THE WRITER’S LIFE
TABLE OF CONTENTS

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