I know where I want to go. It’s whether or not I’ll make it that I can’t guarantee.
I’m a woman of many words. I fill journals quickly and have run out of places to store them. They’ve spilled over into John’s space–not good.
For years I’ve wanted to use those words to write books. Books I have in my head with characters I plainly see. Situations I visualize on paper that bring emotional responses from me. Plot themes that fill me with passion.
And I want to share them with the world at large.
That’s the dream.
I just returned from my second writers’ conference. Where people who know what they’re doing teach those of us wannabes what they’ve learned.
And bring us to the humbling reality that leaving our day jobs to live off book royalties doesn’t often happen.
I’ve talked to many people who feel they have a story inside. Something they’d like to share with others, whatever the tale or message may be. Bringing it to the page in a readable way is a herculean task.
We heard from New York Times best-selling author, Tosca Lee, that she worked diligently on writing and rewriting her first book for nine years.
She’s never finished it. She refers to it as the book that’ll kill her.
An idea’s been stuck in my head for a long time. I began crafting it over three years ago. The characters who populate my imaginary world are more familiar to me than some of my friends. Merely because of time spent with them.
I don’t even like all of them. Some I’ve grown to despise.
The story flows through my mind like a movie stuck on repeat. I see the gaps, the problems, the places that don’t work.
But I like the story enough to want to write it. To see if it could be published.
There’ve been times when I’ve been afraid to dream. The stakes are too high, the possibilities too small. The cost to me seems unacceptably high.
With no guarantee.
It’s work. Especially fitting it into my work schedule. Finding bits of time here and chunks there to plow through and complete what I’ve begun.
I’ll not stop dreaming.
I feel sad for generations coming up. So many seem fearful of dreaming. Of putting themselves out there and working hard for what they believe they can accomplish. Values have changed over the years, and what was expected when I was a kid isn’t the norm today.
Jesus made us to dream. He’s invested Himself into each of us in ways many haven’t yet discovered. He’s given us talents and a story to work with that shapes who we are.
He takes great pleasure in our individuality and uniqueness.
I’m here now, ready to pursue this passion. Give it my best shot.
I may fail.
Jesus isn’t asking me to be the best author ever. There will always be someone better than me. But He is asking me to do the best I can do, with Him and for Him.
Makes the journey a lot more enjoyable.