Devotion: Severely Flawed, or just a Writer?

I've been becoming increasingly concerned about myself. There are some character traits that I cannot shake, no matter how hard I try or pray.  For one thing, I am a complete night owl. If I didn't know better, I'd be concerned that I was harbouring latent vampire genes. If real life didn't demand that I put in an appearance while the sun was up, I could probably go for weeks productively busy between sundown and sunrise.

I'm also obsessive over details. I get caught up like a burr in woolen socks over whatever my mind hooks onto. If there are no current WIP's to take centrestage, then my brain will look for something to chew on - a conversation, a look, a feeling. Analyze analyze analyze... process... allow the resultant emotion to take hold of me and dictate. This is not always a good thing and I'm working on it.

I'm also somewhat anti-social. It's not that I don't like people, I just like being by myself. School holidays are a real challenge as the days often start with a bed full of sprogs before I'm actually ready to open my eyes and continues in a flurry of mom-demanding activities until way past the time I would like to be closing them.  By the time peace and quiet arrives, I'm way beyond tired to do anything but surrender to the soft cooing of the duvet.

I was chatting to God this morning, and He gently flicked a switch in my brain. It all became obvious - I'm not odd, weird or degenerate... well, maybe just a little... Truth is, all the stuff above are good ingredients for a life given to churning out words. To write an article, story ... novel - one needs to be consumed with details, labour alone for long hours and the best time for this is when the world is asleep.

So I'm not bizarre, just built for a purpose.

That's a really good thing to know!

So now it's your turn. Are there things about yourself that bug you? If you step back and look at the big picture, can you see how those niggles actually fit? Let's chat.

"For we are his workmanship, 

created in Christ Jesus to do good works, 

which God prepared in advance for us to do." 

Ephesians 2:10

(reposted from Di's blog Doodles)

Dianne J. Wilson writes novels from her hometown in East London, South Africa, where she lives with her husband and three daughters. She has just signed a three book contract for a YA series, Spirit Walker, with Pelican / Watershed.

Finding Mia is available from Amazon, Pelican / Harbourlight, Barnes & Noble and other bookstores.

Shackles is available as a free ebook from Amazon & Smashwords.

Find her on Facebook, Twitter and her sporadic blog Doodles.

Writing Makes Me Happy

The subject of my post may sound like something from a cheesy pop song, but it is very serious because there are times when, as an author, it is tempting to throw your hands in the air and say: "Why bother?".

After all, writing can be a thankless task. We spend vast tracts of time plotting, planning, outlining, drafting, and editing. At the end of all of this, you have a product that may or may not pass muster with the ultimate judge of the quality of your work: the readers.

I've been writing for a while now and have wanted to give up more times than I can remember. In the past, it normally happened after my nth rejection slip. I would add it to the pile and declare: "I give up. This is a waste of time." A few weeks later, I'd be back at the keyboard.

The thing with writing is: anyone can do it. The old saying about chimpanzees and Shakespeare has a germ of truth to it. A chimp banging away at a keyboard is, to some extent, writing. It may not be prose, but he is applying keyboard characters to a screen which, according to Merriam-Webster is one of the definition of the verb "write": "to form (as characters or symbols) on a surface with an instrument (as a pen)". Writing is considered an art and, just as modern art has shown that an unmade bed or pile of rubbish is considered by some people to be a valid contribution to artistic expression. I can't help wondering if a day will come when someone will produce and sell a book written by chimpanzees. I'm sure someone would buy it to place alongside their "scattered rubbish" and "unmade bed" pieces.

But this is part of the joy of writing. Just the other day I passed a gentleman standing in a field by the side of the road. He had his bicycle parked and his easel erected. Wearing a floppy hat to shade his eyes from the sun, he bent forward, squinting, paint brush in hand, and dabbed at his interpretation of the landscape before him. Even from a fair distance, I could see that his representation was nothing to write home about. It was no unmade bed, but neither was it a Rembrandt. That did not matter because, even from twenty yards away, I could see that he was happy.

Every time I give up writing, I am forced to reexamine my motivations. I originally started out because I wanted to do something for God. The word "calling" is probably too strong here (and loaded with all sorts of spiritual baggage) so I think it is better to say that God allowed me to pursue my interest in writing. Maybe that still counts as a calling, I don't know, but I get to do something I want to do and I have permission to do it.

This morning while preparing for work I chatted with my wife about the day ahead. I'm between edits at the moment so have a couple of weeks to spare. I discussed my latest project as well as some ideas for marketing for my next book (due for release some day soon). My wife commented that I am always much happier when I'm busy with my writing.

I never really looked at it that way before, but she is right. I find it hard work and have to push myself sometimes, but it engages my mind and gives me something to work towards. A passing reader may scoff and say I'm no artist. Indeed, some may compare my efforts to an unmade bed. But there is something about building a world that never existed until you imagined into being--of breathing life into characters who will one day become actors in a drama of your making--that is extremely rewarding. It may be hard work, and not everyone will appreciate it, but it is yours and nobody can take that away from you.     

In short: writing makes me happy.