Sunday, January 22, 2012

A Call

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you."--Maya Angelou

It's no secret I love to write. However, the weight of this love is heavy and almost daunting. Since I was twelve years old, I wanted to write a book. Not just any book. A book that would change people's lives. Over the years I've done my best to smother this desire. I've tried to avoid the idea, reason my way out of it, forget about it, but it just won't leave. I hear names of random people and I think I aught write them down because they would be good for my characters. I come up with mini plot ideas constantly, I look for unusual personality traits in people that would make interesting additions for my characters. I don't do it intentionally, it just happens subconsciously. Especially after watching or listening to something that inspires me, I immediately revert to my book and how I can apply what I'm feeling. I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to write about. Still, I feel as though I must. Do I believe this insatiable need to write is a "special calling" on my life? Honestly, no, I don't. Everybody's "calling" in life is significant in its own way. Nevertheless, for whatever reason, I know my desire to write is real, and I would be an ungrateful coward not to do something about it.

Yet, I'm discouraged because I feel as though what I want to express inside of me is impossible to convert to paper and ink. Sometimes there simply are no words good enough. Yet, I can't abandon my book (even if I wanted to). Someday, I will write. And if I actually do change even one person's life through my writing, I honestly can't take the credit. God didn't put this agony in my heart for my glory.

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