What We Write About Tells Us Who We Are by Cristian Mihai ? This ...

This post by Cristian Mihai speaks so well to the dilemma writers face each time they put their thoughts on paper and each time they put their words out there for the world to see. Cristian's observations were spot on, and the quote by Chuck Palahniuk was great advice that really resonated with me. I've written since I was old enough to hold a crayon. My first?implement?of choice for writing was black marker. (I guess I was rather fearless back then!) I wrote all sorts of things- from commercials to advertisements to stories to plays- a lot of plays actually, which is strange because I would rather die than get up in front of people and perform now! I guess that line by Rod Serling is true :??Every writer is a frustrated actor who recites his lines in the hidden auditorium of his skull.? While writing was, for me, the ultimate outlet and form of expression for my thinking and creativity, it did nothing for my reputation. You know that weird kid growing up? That was me. My writing activities only succeeded in making me appear even more odd and out of place than I felt! For that reason, I never could quite 'own' the idea of being a writer. Still, I kept on writing things. In college, I got up the nerve to take a creative writing class. The teacher was an older woman named Dorla Jenkins. She was an imposing character with red hair and penetrating eyes, which I was sure could read my mind. She was intimidating. I was scared every day I walked into that class- scared that she would look at me, or worse, say something to me, scared that I would be called on to stand and read what I had written, but even more scared of what all of them might think about it...and me. Despite all of that, I loved everything I was learning. I wasn't as fond of the impact it had on my writing, however. I seemed to be writing darker and darker things, which was alarming to a good girl like me. I just couldn't seem to help it. It mortified me to imagine what my teacher must be thinking. I suppose that's why I procrastinated signing up for the end of the year, one on one interview with Dorla Jenkins. My name was the last one on the list. I was dreading it. When the day arrived she greeted me with, "I was wondering when I would see you!" as she looked at me with that all-knowing, soul-penetrating gaze. We sat down, her large desk between us, and she paused a moment- one long, uncomfortable moment, before telling me that I had a gift. ?The surprise must have registered on my face. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that before?" she asked. I'd had a supportive English teacher my Senior year of high school, but she was a pot smoker and a bit of a ding-a-ling and I was one of the few kids in her class that actually did?the work she assigned, so I didn't put much stock in her enthusiasm. ?My writing escapades had only made me an oddball, in my opinion. Dorla jenkin's parting words to me were, "You need to ask God what he wants you to do with it." I've never forgotten what she said, even though I've wondered if Dorla Jenkins didn't say that to all of her students. I was still frightened by what I was writing and there was no way I was going to ask God what I should do with it! Control it, stuff it, stop doing it was all I could think of...and I did that until I had to do some writing for another English class a year later. This time the teacher was a big, very hairy, liberal professor at the state university. It was a literature class, but he had us writing everyday about what we were reading. I sort of enjoyed it. The class was huge and I could be incognito (which I preferred), or so I thought. One day after class, I heard him hollering ?my name over the heads of the other students and running down the hall to catch up with me. Oh great! I thought. I would actually have to speak to the man! "You know that story about your old maid schoolteacher neighbor?" He said, "I liked it. I think it's good." and he proceeded to give me some pointers and suggestions for it. He was a published author and he thought something I wrote was good. I've never forgotten that moment, either. It's been thirty years since then and I still haven't gotten around to asking God what to do with all of those words that come out of me. There's one part of me that thinks it's a foolish hobby, a huge waste of time. Then there's the other part of me that is afraid of what God might tell me and what that would mean. Evan Sanders,writer of the blog: The Better Man Project, says it best in his blog post called Day(354)- Rope-a-dope, "We put our work out in front of people for judgement, but often times it is not just the work we have created, but a piece of our soul...if not the whole thing entirely. But that is the profession...the calling I've chosen. " I've taken up writing again in the last few years. I've written a novel! ?(said in an excited whisper) And there are more in my head where that one came from; story upon story just waiting to be written. Maybe I've been 'hanging on the ropes' , protecting myself all this time, afraid of what it will mean if I really am supposed to be a writer. Maybe Fear is getting tired wailing on me. Maybe I'm getting tired of letting it. Maybe the day has come for that one on one interview with God. I anticipate a comment and look similar to Dorla Jenkin's. "I wondered when I would see you!" He will say. "I gave you a gift, now here's what I want you to do with it..."

Source: http://thisisyourrealmotherspeaking.wordpress.com/2012/12/05/1379/

jennie garth peter facinelli marques colston golden state warriors free agents nfl 2012 milwaukee bucks bear grylls us news law school rankings