yesterday i was at a big and fancy writing conference called the AWP. i will be there today and tomorrow as well. I felt awkward and overwhelmed, like i expected. what i didn’t expect were the synapses to begin firing away in my brain.
people sometimes talk to me about writing. i came to it later in life, as an extension of my missionary heart. i wanted to use my writing to convert people to my way of seeing this world it can be interesting and rewarding but mostly exhausting. i still so often think it is my job to change and even to save people. but real writers remind me the only job is to connect.
yesterday i listened to people talk and read about the weirdest and most beautiful things and the common thread is that a real writer is always making connections. between snippets of dialogue and glimpses of bald eagles and a terrible tragedy in the news. in one session i was daydreaming, and all of the sudden i had a new essay forming in my mind, a series of experiences that suddenly connected together when before they had just been troublesome and confusing and exciting memories. i started writing again, yesterday. the Creator God is the ultimate connector, the meaning maker; it is my job to try and pay attention as best as i can, and wait for the stories to start to make the tiniest bit of sense.