On Reading from an Old Blog
Clicking around on the backside of Blogger reminded me that I still have access to an old blog. This defunct collection of literary-themed posts was cowritten by myself and two friends, and a perusal of the titles took me back to a time when I did some fun creative writing in grad school.
What was it about being stressed for weeks on end, with no money and barely any free time, that led me to compose some of the most fun and witty and thoughtful essays of my life? Some of it is ridiculously silly (I'm thinking back to when I dedicated a whole paragraph to answering the question of "why should I move towards the bookshelf, instead of the bookshelf towards me?"). But some of the turns of phrase I used at the time captured my attention and had me pondering: Was I really ever that clever?
Forgive me for tooting my own horn a bit - it's just so strange to compare my previous writing with what I do now. I'm grateful to have this blog and to keep the creative spirit going, but it seems like my brain doesn't work quite the same anymore. I don't sense the whimsy or vitality of thought that used to run through my sentences. And I have memories of feeling more creative in past years. I don't have an epic adventure novel-to-be-written actively developing in my imagination anymore. I haven't sat down for a serious fictional enterprise since I finished my one and only draft of a book based on Maid Marian from the Robin Hood legends (an idea that also grew out of my grad school brain). I admit one exception: last summer, after an enchanting walk through the woods on a cloudy day, I had a recurrence of the old imaginative impulse and sat down to write out the scene when I got home.
I feel like I haven't been true to the creative gift God gave me, in whatever small measure I felt and appreciated it, and therefore, I wonder if I've lost the thrill of creating stories as a result.
Determination
Rereading that old blog has led me to the conclusion that I must not let go what I have, unless God wills it. I have a beautiful life, and I'm so grateful to have it, but I feel that I should keep writing, and writing more creatively than keeping a diary of books I've read. I want to write fun things, and not always serious ones. I will try to pray for God's guidance, in case He is calling me to put down these pursuits to make way for better ones. But I will try to write. There are so many ideas floating around in my mind - perhaps there'd be more space in my brain if I closed a few of those tabs and just flung the thoughts out onto the paper, as it were.
I am a consumer. I eat up stories, and read and read and read, but don't end up doing much with what I have taken in. Perhaps it is time to make something of my free time other than another title whited out from my to-read list.
My goal is to, perhaps this Lent, make a point of writing something every day. It ought to be something related to my faith, and I have an idea about what project that could be. It wouldn't need to be much - just five minutes, but it must happen every day (excepting Sundays). It would not be a penance, perhaps, but it would be an attempt to use of an ability that feels like one of God's many beautiful, bountiful, unwarranted gifts to me. May God's will be done here, as in all things.
Post-Script
In case you are curious, here is a link to that lovely, quirky blog I contributed to back in the day. I hope to go back and enjoy the posts of my cowriters sometime soon.
https://narnianaustenites.blogspot.com/