Tag Archives: writing.

The joy of writing

Rejoice with me, for I have re-started work on my book! And I am pleased with what I have written (around a thousand words of Chapter 7). If I remembered how satisfying writing can be, would I get round to it more often?

OK, so I pretty much wasted the rest of the day. But at least I’ve made a start… Looking forward to doing more tomorrow.

That w*rk thing

Have just discovered on sorting through my emails that I had completely forgotten being asked to do a cover quote for a forthcoming book on being an LGB Christian. Fortunately the deadline is still a couple of weeks away, so there’s still time for me to read the book. Judging from chapter one, it is going to be really good. Don’t know the publication date yet, so can’t give any further details.

I have no idea why they asked me. Unless they have found out about my lifetime habit of falling in love with gay men. Perhaps they just thought I would be someone who wouldn’t have a knee jerk conservative reaction.

Now that I’ve recovered from the summer and its various aftermaths (is an aftermath something you do to relax after a maths lesson?), I am beginning to get enthusiastic about w*rk again. Trouble is, I have three to four books which I’d like to be writing all at once! I’m sure this will wear off…

Meanwhile I have typed up two of the three poems I drafted at the weekend. I think one is almost ready to send to a competition. 🙂

emerging

How extraordinary that feeling is that you get when you are beginning to come out of a depression. It’s as though the world’s been switched on again. No one describes it so well as George Herbert in his poem The Flower. ‘And now in age I bud again, After so many deaths I live and write, I once more smell the dew and rain And relish versing..’ It’s true, your senses, including the sense of smell, seem to come back from nowhere, and you hadn’t realized they were gone until they came back. And the urge to write comes back, and words begin leaping out at you. And most of all, the sense of God’s presence comes back, and all the words of faith that seemed so empty and false are suddenly full of life and meaning.

You can create the conditions for this happening, by removing yourself from burdensome tasks, and giving yourself space and little treats, but ultimately there is no way to make it happen, all you can do is wait. And when it happens, there is no way of knowing how long it will last, before the clouds come over again. Perhaps there are ways of making it last? I haven’t discovered them yet, but I am still searching.

I’m not there

No, not the film about Dylan which I hear is very good. Just me, not blogging. Sorry about that folks. Life has been full of Christmas preparation, writing, and driving. Especially the driving. Drove for 3 1/2 hours last Wednesday without ever going further south than Tottenham or further north than High Barnet (or further east than Woodford Green, while I didn’t go west at all, not being a young man).

Too long and complicated to explain, but essentially it was all about picking up church friend to go to cancer support group, encountering huge Christmas traffic jams so that what is normally a half hour journey was an hour and a quarter, then taking her mostly home (all of her went but she didn’t go all the way home), then picking up son from friend’s house, having an hour at my home to recover and get changed, then taking other church friend out east to see a Riding Lights play about Bethlehem – which I highly recommend.

Then Friday I tried to go shopping at the hallowed retail shrine of Brent Cross. Only they’d closed the entire North Circular west of the A1 because of an accident. What is normally 20 mins journey took 1 3/4 hours. Then I still had to do the shopping.

I slept a lot at the weekend. So did Genius Brat, who is certainly a real teenager now – he didn’t wake up till 2.00 pm.

The writing, by the way, was four pieces for Prayer for the Week in the Church Times. Plus a sermon which in the end I didn’t write at all as I decided to read the congregation a very long Austrian story. They seemed to like it.