Spec Fic With Gravy on the Side
Maybe it's the fact that it's the day before Thanksgiving.
Maybe it's the weather-- a blustery, wet Noreaster that makes one
curl up inside and think warm thoughts. Or maybe having my baby
Ember has just softened up me a little.
Whatever the reason, today my thoughts turn to a part of writing
that it's easy to forget amidst the hustle and bustle of creating
stories. I am absolutely, utterly grateful that God chose me to write.
When I was still being formed in the secret places of my mother's womb,
He decided to tweak things so that I would have this gift, and
stories have just seemed to be a natural part of my life since
childhood. He could have chosen someone else to glorify him through words;
certainly at times I think He could have found someone more worthy,
less insecure, more bold. But He gave it to me. And even at the most
frustrating moments, when my stories seem stale and my self-doubt is
ranting in the back of my mind, I know that writing is like breathing.
I can no more stop one than the other.
Writing has given me a portal into hundreds of worlds, introduced me
to characters through whose struggles I find hope for my own. Words
give me a way to put my passion onto paper, or to grapple with a fear,
or to take up arms against an evil or injustice. If I combine them
with music, I have a wonderful and powerful way to praise my God.
I love that He's put it in my heart to write speculative fiction and
explore the countless possibilities of the genre.
So, on the eve of turkey and stuffing and pumpkin pie, I just want
to stand up and say thank you-- to God, for His unspeakable mercy
and grace, and also to my fellow wordsmiths, for joining together in faith
and community, helping one another use the gift God has placed in us.