INADEQUACY by Bryan Norford

I have previously commented here and elsewhere on the tension between commitment and inspiration: we are often committed to writing when we don’t feel inspired. Depending on our temperament, it can be the difference between light and darkness.

We need to be careful how we think of inspiration. Inspired work is not necessarily easy. Inspiration may simply be an idea requiring a further ninety per cent perspiration to develop. Conversely, apparently mechanical writing often initiates inspiration as it progresses.

While most people may use the idea of inspiration in its mundane sense—an easy flow as we write—the Christian considers its fundamental meaning: drawing upon the wisdom of the Spirit. All Christian writing—fiction as well as non-fiction—depends on God’s wisdom to infuse it.

For many of us, this need leads to a sense of desperation; a looming despair Jesus recognised in the first four of his beatitudes—we mourn our sinfulness, we hunger and thirst for righteousness to cover us, we are distressed and humbled by our poverty of spirit.

But Jesus went further. He set this deep sense of inadequacy as the condition for fulfilment of our needs. Not only is this beginning of new life in Him, I believe it is also the starting point for our writing—a profound yearning for the Spirit to permeate our thinking and imagination.

But mourning our inadequacy is the basis of our comfort, for Jesus tells us our needs will be filled. In the end, neither our goodness nor ability are the final criteria for success; that is gained solely as the Spirit fills us and uses our resources for His plan and will. So we write in faith.

That doesn’t mean our training and experience are unimportant; proficiency in our work is critical for excellence. But of greater significance, any expertise we accumulate is a resource for the Spirit to use. We simply lay at His feet the talents he gave us that we have developed.

Thus, I am driven to pray each day before writing: "Lord, my thinking and understanding is so often fallen and distorted. I desperately need your insight and wisdom, that as I write, I may clearly express your thoughts and desires.”

WOE IS ME IF . . . by Bryan Norford

I have read the blogs for this month on writing tips, and I feel like my mental inbox is overloaded. Like Tracy, I wonder what I can add to the list from my inadequate experience. Does anyone else feel like me, that technology has grown faster than I have, leaving me behind?

I marvel at the ability of many of you to use so much online networking, and yet still have time to write! My head spins with all the excellent advice offered; I feel I’m in the kindergarten class listening to college graduates.

I risk sounding lazy and unwilling to do spadework necessary for an accomplished writer, but perhaps I can share some ideas from a different point of view. They might sound primitive, and you have probably already thought them through. After all, soul-searching is part of our Christian stock-in-trade, isn’t it?

Reading this month’s blogs, I become fearful that by not investigating all the resources available I will fail. It constantly leads me to the question: what constitutes a “successful” writer? Which raises the more fundamental question: why do I write?

I find a few answers quickly. I enjoy it. I am able to express my joys about life and concerns about the world. Above all, I can express my deepest passion for the Gospel and its effect on life on earth. I write what I cannot speak so easily.

But why write or speak if there is no audience? It’s my greatest fear, and, it seems—as I peruse the means for gaining one—it is for many of us. But, of course, there is always an audience of at least one—the One we write for.

Well, that’s a cop out if ever I heard one. I’m not a monastery of one debating with God; others need to know about Him. But whether I know it or not, or even I like it or not, everything I do impinges on someone else.

Oh! So there’s an audience out there after all! Not necessarily one of my making, but a ready-made audience provided just by living. That also may be a cop out for others, but for me, perhaps it’s sufficient. The pleasure of writing is back, the pressure of seeking that audience is lessened, if not avoided.

All this doesn’t mean I don’t do research necessary to improve my writing. I have Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style, and The Little Brown Handbook—a very comprehensive big green book!—and a dozen or so other references and web-based resources. But I am comforted by a quote from Strunk and White:

Your whole duty as a writer is to please and satisfy yourself, and the true writer always plays to an audience of one. Start sniffing the air, or glancing at the Trend Machine, and you are as good as dead, although you may make a nice living.