the top of the pops and were taking the country by storm. I had Beatle tea-towels, Beatle wallpaper in my room, Beatle cups, Beatle records and whatever else sported the shiny faces of the Fab Four!
Shortly after that, I started
taking a liking to writing songs and poetry – but especially songs. I fancied
myself penning the next She Loves You, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah for those Liverpudlian
boys. My sister and I wrote what we thought would be chart topping hits, but
they never made it outside our council house door. Well maybe for a party piece
or two for lovely relatives who were able to grin and bear it.
But I
never stopped trying. I scribbled poetry in my jotters and occasionally imagined
what it would be like to be a writer. Then somewhere along the line, I forgot.
But I still read. I lapped up books like Little Women, Little Men, What Katy
Did Next, Beautiful Joe, all the Diana comics I could get my hands on and then
every year I would get a Diana Annual for Christmas.
In
school I got good marks in classes that had to do with the languages, be it
Latin, English, French. I began to fall in love with the formation of words and
I desired to express myself on the written page. I dabbled throughout my teen
years and got involved in drama – a wonderful way to share words aloud –
although not my creations. However, I felt a definite leaning towards
creativity.
When I came to Drayton, where I
live now, I remember picking up the newspaper and reading an ad for a 12 week
freelance writing course. I’d recently won a county wide writing contest that I
had entered on a whim (actually I don’t think it was a whim now that I have
discovered how God works!) But I started to fancy myself as a writer once
again.
It was
an amazing learning experience. Over those 12 weeks, I realized how much I had
to learn and how much I overused Beatle - and Simon & Garfunkle (gag) clichés, particularly in one piece I submitted for critique. One of the requirements for that piece, was to pen something about our spouse. I recall, with much
chagrin now, the flavour of what I wrote. I remember talking about my husband being akin to
a ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ and how I had to learn to ‘Let It Be’ and ‘All We Needed Was Love!’ Oh my, Jean Neiderer (the lovely teacher who I am still
trying desperately to locate so I can thank her – and apologize) must have
laughed her editor head off. It must have been a Hard Day’s Night for her
when she red marked that piece.
But I’ve
grown up a little now. I have not arrived in my writing life by any means. I never will because, like marriage and my Christian faith –
there is always something to learn and room to grow. Instead, now I have a different
motivation for writing.
When I began a beautiful relationship with the Lord in the
fall of 1986 something happened. God opened up doors and my passion focused on writing for Him. I think I started to realize that we are not only given gifts, but we have a responsibility to use them wisely and for His glory.
Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming
down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to
change. James 1:17
