For years as an adult, I had
in the back of my mind that, when I had time—when I was in my eighties—I would
be a writer. Then one day when I was in
my forties, I thought to myself, “I can hardly wait until I’m old and get to
write! But…I guess it couldn’t hurt to
get started right now, could it?” From
that time on, I endeavored to be a skilled writer. And the more I look back, the more it makes
sense.
During my childhood and pre-teen
years I wrote several stories. I have in
my scrapbook a science fiction thriller, poems, a cat adventure, and even a
four-page newspaper I wrote for my chameleon.
My mom encouraged me to submit my poems to a children’s magazine, and at
the age of eleven I received my first rejection slip: “Stories and poems written by children are
not purchased. Keep reading Child Life and Children’s Playmate…”
As a teen I wrote in diaries,
loved school writing assignments, and wrote pages and pages of letters to friends
out of town. I was placed in the
advanced English classes in high school, and wrote a column in my college
newspaper. Yet the only thing I remember
wanting to “be” as I was growing up was a secretary or a teacher; I figured
writing could only be a hobby. I wasn’t
aware that one could actually study English or Writing in college until I was
majoring in math, and a friend announced that she was majoring in journalism. I was envious!
I realize now how much my
parents both influenced me to write. My
dad was very articulate, and always teaching me new vocabulary. When I was living out of town he wrote me
beautiful, long letters. He took a
creative writing course while he was in the Air Force, and I still have some of
his well-written assignments. I also
learned that his mother and grandmother both wrote poetry, and my
great-grandmother had some of hers published.
My mom took the Famous
Writers Course by correspondence. I
remember the brown and white binders sitting on her art-deco desk, and her fat
yellow envelopes full of assignments ready to mail. She had two articles published in magazines
and, inspired by God’s leading, she wrote the manuscript of a book about how
the ideals of feminism contrast with God’s design for men and women. I remember her often sitting in her office,
looking out the window, deep in thought.
She has become understandably discouraged that many Christian publishers
no longer accept unsolicited manuscripts, but would still love to perfect and
publish her manuscript.
So, I wouldn’t say that I started by sensing God’s call to write;
I just loved to write. Now, although I
have not “arrived”, I believe writing is a talent given to me, and as I’ve
looked back at how naturally writing came to me, and all the writing talent in
my background, and I do now sense his
call to write.
I’m so glad that Mom and Dad
implanted in my psyche the ideas that sitting and staring out the window to put
words together is a perfectly valid way to spend time, taking writing courses is
a good investment of money, and writing a book manuscript is a worthy
goal. I have done all three since I
moved my “retirement dream” forward!
Posted by Ramona
Picture credit: Mary Pickford writing -
http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mary_Pickford-desk.jpg
http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mary_Pickford-desk.jpg
