Um...

Nobody's posting...

Declaration

Let it be known that this site is frequently visited, if not posted upon, by LizC. I've been here lots. And frankly, I got tired of there being no posts. So in the spirit of contributing to the solution, I have now posted. :) The reason I'm writing about posting and not about writing is that I currently have little to say about writing, though I look forward to doing it again very soon. :)

I hate writing, but I love the idea of it.

There are two types of writers: those who like the idea of writing and those who turn their ideas into marketable words. I spent many years as the first type of writer. But I didn’t get to be the publisher of a magazine (www.shenandoahmagazine.com) by following my early ideas of writing as a romantic calling.

It’s not romantic.

I would like to believe our magazine has a certain romance about it. Now I can write, edit and publish stories about people, places and things I enjoy writing and reading about. But my first published article was far from romantic.

On my first writing assignment I was sent to cover a council meeting in a podunk town where nothing ever happened. But the editor wanted to give coverage to every town in the three-county area just outside Philly, so I was hired out of desperation. I wasn’t hired, actually. I didn’t have any published clips, so he sent me to the meeting on spec. If I could produce a decent story he would use me as a freelance writer.

I showed up at the meeting and there was nothing going on, so there was no agenda. The meeting was literally over in 15 minutes, including the reading of the treasurer’s report. I approached the town manager in desperation. He was a nice man. Look, I said, if I don’t bring back a story I don’t have a job.

The council was hanging out after the meeting, he said, to look over some plans for a new development. I stayed and turned in an article about a new shopping center that was just in the planning stages. I didn’t even know what a zoning ordinance was, but I wrote about the developer’s application for a zoning change and how the shopping center would be located on a deserted piece of ground that was once an amusement park, just inside the town limits.

To my great surprise, the editor was thrilled. No one knew about this plan, and apparently it was a big deal. He placed the article on the front page and I received $30 instead of the $25 I had been promised. Today that baren piece of land holds several acres of shopping and is bringing in a hefty amount of tax dollars to the once podunk town.

I spent another year writing about small-town meetings before they would let me write a feature article.

I’ve written stories because I was passionate about the topic. I’ve written to get a paycheck. And I’ve written just because it would get me to that next step in my writing career. I became the kind of writer who takes an idea and turns it into marketable words.

My point is not to boast about my accomplishments. I've done nothing extraordinary in my own strength. (I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.) While I'm satisfied and pleased with where I am today, I want to stress that my early attempts at publication were humble. (Did I mention that RedBook magazine didn't even use an entire piece of paper to send my rejection notice? It came on a 1-inch strip of paper.)

If you really want to write and get published, lose the romantic idea of writing and get to work. Writing is hard work. And sometimes it is not glamorous or even enjoyable. One of my favorite quotes about writing is: I hate writing. I love having written. (Dorothy Parker)

Write about topics that will get you published, whether you enjoy them, or not; and start with small publications that need you as much as you need them.

If you really want to write with a byline, you will find pleasure even in the most unromantic writing. I was so excited about seeing my article about the shopping center on the front page. I would have been thrilled if they had buried it in the back of the newspaper.

There’s nothing wrong with being the type of writer who loves the idea of writing. You could get lucky.

Toni M.

I have reached my goal

Just wanted everyone to know I have reached my goal, by not only finding my blogspot but accessed it. And I posted to it and to this site. Thanks for the push to reach our goals. My new goal it to post at least once a week.

Lisa

Write His Answer

After only the first evening and two sessions, the Write His Answer conference with Marlene Bagnull is proving inspirational.

The Shenandoah Christian Writers are hosting this conference, our first. If attendance is an indicator of success, our first conference is indeed successful. More than 70 writers, from PA to VA are here for the weekend.

I believe everyone must have been inspired and blessed as I was this evening. Marlene talked about viewing our writing as a calling from God, which means giving him credit, glory, and praise for this gift. It means relying on him at every step of the writing process, and always remembering that this calling is about Him--not recognition, financial reward, or getting published. It is about being faithful.

It was refreshing to listen to Marlene's genuine and humble approach to writing. She is a successful and well-known Christian writer; but she obviously does not think more highly of herself nor expect anyone else to, in spite of her success.

I'm really looking forward to Saturday's sessions. I'll be listening to Marlene, but expecting to hear from God.

TM

A Christmas Poem

Several years ago as the editor of a local newspaper I wrote a weekly column. Column-writing can be fun--you can write about things only you care about and you feel lucky if anyone else cares enough to read--but it can also be taxing. Some weeks the ideas won't come and you just spit something onto the page.

As the Christmas season approached I was at a loss for a subject matter and on the fly I crafted a poem.

A close friend of mine who read my column faithfully told me that she loved it, and when I visited her home several months later, I noticed she had clipped it and hung it on her refrigerator. By then the newsprint was yellowed with the grease of a kitchen well-used.

The next summer my friend died of cancer, and the following Christmas I ran the poem again. But this time my publication of the poem was purposeful. I introduced the poem with a tribute to my friend.

That was three years ago. This season I thought you all would enjoy reading this verse that was so special to my friend. Each time I read it I imagine her in heaven worshiping the Savior she served so faithfully on earth.

TM

I love the holidays. I hate the holidays

I love the holidays. I hate the holidays.
I love the aroma of cinnamon candles burning. I hate that Christmas decorations go up before Thanksgiving.
I love the chocolate, rich taste of home-baked fudge. I hate the extra 10 pounds.
I love decorating Christmas cookies with the kids. I hate cleaning up the mess.
I love hanging ornaments on the tree. I hate packing them away again after the New Year.
I love the tinkle of bells outside each store as the Salvation Army faithfully collects for the needy. I hate the ring of the cash register, signaling a depletion of my checking account.
I love the hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers. I hate the hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers.
I love the joyful sound of Christmas Carols on the radio and in stores. I hate the annoying commercials selling fake holiday cheer.
I love the vibrations in my chest as the organ plays “Joy to the World” and “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.”
I love to hear the children, dressed as Mary and Joseph, tell the Christmas story.
I love that God sent His Son to earth for us. I hate that His own rejected him and that many reject Him today.
I hate that He was nailed to a cross.
I hate that He died in agony.
I hate that He suffered for me.
I love that He did because of His great love for me.
Merry Christmas, readers, and please stop for a moment as the holiday season begins to remember why we are celebrating.

Breathe

Writing is for me a personal exercise that varies according to the other ups and downs in my life. At times, my writing is like the heartbeat of my life--five full journals, most with six- to ten-page entries at times, testify to the importance of writing to my personality and wellbeing. At other times. . . it's hard to say. Either writing is still my heartbeat, just my heart is almost not beating, or maybe it's that writing fades into distant memory, like a forgotten motion of the hand that used to be habitual, daily, and necessary in another phase of life.

These days writing often seems far away, as though more a part of my past than present. My mind is surprised that I am asking it to write for this exercise, and it feels unsure of itself, cautious, self-conscious. In fact, this is probably not the tone I would ideally use for writing a post, but one must assume some tone to begin with, right? Write? Haha. :-)

I think that the state of my writing both reflects and feeds the other things going on in my life at any given time. Often I find that if I am not writing, I am also not working through my thoughts or dealing with the struggles of life well. The state of not-writing allows me to ignore things that I don't want to deal with, and it causes me to also neglect joys of life that I should be savoring. This is because writing is like exhaling for me--I can't take in all the events and thoughts of life without some way to also release them and move on. Writing is the way my heart exhales, releasing to paper all the sorrows I wish to forget and all the joys I want to remember.

Elizabeth