Writing Manifesto

I have what I call a Writing Manifesto. I created it many years ago in the elation of having an article published and the dismay of having another rejected. It's simply a loose collection of personal thoughts, a few bible verses, and some quotes on writing that I've adopted and have tried to apply. It adds up to something like a document of intent, to myself, as a writer.

I do add to my manifesto, occasionally, so it's not a static thing, which if it was, would  eventually become moribund. But then there are long stretches, seasons, more, when I don't think of it…when things are going writerly-well my manifesto is out of mind.

But when things threaten, when my internal witness is signalling by semaphore, when hack phrases like pack-it-in sound like music, when my ambitions ambush good intentions, when that book has stalled on a dry country road, when I can't bear to read what I wrote yesterday, when I succumb to envy and its sinister percolations, when there are no images in my imagination, when I feel less animated than the upper lip of Don Newman, when one or more of these things poke up like those wire spikes on lampposts that prevent pigeons from roosting, and me from writing a sentence without a cliché, then I know it's time to return and engage the manifesto. To retreat, recall, remember and hopefully once again reignite what instigated and inspired and brought me thus far, as writer.

So for what it's worth, let me share one quote, one verse and one thought from my manifesto:

Quote: (I am an ardent fan of Thomas Merton. But please forgive his noninclusive gender references--he wrote (prodigiously) from the 1940's to the1960's:  "If you write for God you will reach many men and bring them joy. If you write for men – you may make some money and you may give someone a little joy and you may make a noise in the world, for a little while. If you write only for yourself you can read what you yourself have written and after ten minutes you will be so disgusted you will wish that you were dead."

Verse: "Let my sentence come forth from thy presence..." (Psalm 17.2, KJV) Yes, I've taken this out of context. Sentence here refers to justice. But I've cleared this with God, as it literally goes to the heart of where I want my sentences to come from.

Thought/application: Taken together, my sentences will reflect something of the presence of God; will proceed from the mystical place of Christ's dwelling, which is no other place than within me, within others, even in some mysterious way, within the rocks and leaves—that cry out.

I have a notion that many of you have similar "statements," or ways, to re-ground and give direction to your writing.

www.growmercy.org

The Spiritual Side of Writing - Bonnie Way

When Dr. Richard Wagamese told us—a class of thirty-some-odd mostly Caucasian writing students—that he was going to do a traditional Aboriginal smudging ceremony with us, I was at first uncertain.  What did smudging have to do with writing?  And was it okay for me, a life-long Christian and a Catholic convert, to partake in such a ceremony?

My curiosity (and my record for never missing class) won out over my doubts.  Gathered in the large ceremonial room with my classmates, I watched as Dr. Wagamese prepared for the ceremony.  As he did so, he explained the spiritual side of writing.  Every morning, he began his day as a working writer by taking a few moments to prepare spiritually.  While for him this involved the smudging ceremony of his ancestors, he encouraged each of us to find our own spirituality.

As he talked, I found his words creating an ache in my heart.  There had been a time in my writing when I noticed a connection between the amount of time I spent reading God's Word and the amount of time I spent hammering away at my keyboard.  Somehow, those moments of prayer and holy reading had ideas popping into my head faster than popcorn on a hot frying pan.  When I neglected that quiet time, my writing became laborious and slow.

While I learned many things in Dr. Wagamese's class, the thing that impacted me the most was his lesson in that ceremonial room.  The other lessons were for my head—concrete how-to-write tips and suggestions.  This lesson was for my heart—the place from which my writing must spring if it is going to touch readers.  If my heart isn't in tune with its Creator, then it doesn't matter how well I apply the other pointers Dr. Wagamese gave us.

As a Christian writer, I must remember to put "Christian" before "writer."  To take time to nourish my soul before I seek to nourish others.  To listen to what God is telling me so that I can pass His message to others.  To find the source of my creativity in my Creator so that I can encourage others to do the same.

~ © Bonnie Way (aka The Koala Bear Writer)

Moving Day - 1986 - Shirley S. Tye

The large moving van inched its way backwards up the gravel driveway to the front steps. Red brake lights lit up as the air brakes hushed the groaning motor. Two young muscular men climbed down from the cab. They hurried to the back of the truck, slid open the rear roll-away door and lowered the loading ramp.

Like storybook elves, they scurried about the house, happily doing their work. They lifted heavy appliances without a moan and juggled the queen-size bed-sofa through the narrow doorway while chatting about the latest hockey game. They seemed to be experienced, conscientious movers but would they take extra care with the dinning room suite?

The oak buffet and hutch which had been purchased the previous year, stood majestically against the wall. The flower design of the carved trim was dust free, the glass doors glistened in the morning sunshine and the wide two-pedestal table stood proudly in the centre of the room; the polished top displaying the natural wood grain. Neatly tucked in their places around the table were the six high-backed velvety cushioned chairs waiting for dinner to be served.

I couldn't bear to watch. Quickly I left the house and anxiously waited at our new address.

Soon the movers were unloading the truck and setting the furniture into place in our new home. Washer, dryer, and deep-freeze were carried downstairs. The bed-sofa was placed against the far wall in the sitting room. Then came the dinning room set. Gingerly the men carried the pieces in one by one and arranged the room to our wishes. Finally it was all done. And not a scratch to be seen anywhere! I sighed in relief.

As my husband and I leaned the refrigerator forward to adjust the feet under it, we heard a sound within like a bottle rolling about. Surely my husband hadn't forgotten to remove a bottle when he emptied the refrigerator that morning. Was it a bottle of ketchup or sauce? Slowly I opened the door expecting to see a smashed bottle with its contents painted in an abstract fashion on the inside walls. To my surprise the refrigerator was clean. What had rolled about? Then I checked the door compartments. There on the inside of the door were half-dozen eggs nestled in their pockets. Not one broken. And to think I had worried about the dinning room suite!

So Many Books – Ramona Heikel

Spring and summer bring the huge used book sales, which excite me no end. As a writer, I not only love being surrounded by books, but I also find them full of inspiration and help for my own writing.

Besides, where else can I get so much pleasure for a couple of dollars?

I’ve noticed, though, that as I browse I ask myself, “With so many great works already out there that people are throwing out, why should I pen another one that might end up in the pile?”

Now, if stores were full of brand-new boring, unimaginative, ugly, useless, offensive stories, I’d see that my writing abilities were desperately needed. But this is not the case. There are so many talented writers. The children’s section—the area I’m most interested in—has shelves lined with brightly colored, engaging books that make my eyes pop open and bring a big smile to my face. “What a brilliant idea for a plot! What adorable characters, and such an uplifting message!”

So what to do? Well, I could stay away from the stores and the sales, and spend that big chunk of time writing! Sounds sensible, but no way. That’s too drastic a solution. Okay, let me think this through a bit.

I’m making an assumption that the donated books are not valuable, yet look at all the many, many (way too many) gems I’ve snatched up and cherished. One of my treasures from this summer is Children’s Stories and How to Tell Them, published in 1917 by The Home Correspondence School of Springfield, Massachusetts. Besides being lovely and practical, it is fun to think that even then there were writing classes by correspondence, which is what I am taking right now. At the sales I also try to limit myself to items I wouldn’t easily be able to find at a library or store. Pillow Problems and A Tangled Tale: The Mathematical Recreations of Lewis Carroll is one that meets that criterion.

And yes, the brilliant writers today seem to have the literary needs covered. But I’m sure glad Jane Austen didn’t stop writing when she saw that there were plenty of other excellent authors out there. Maybe one day someone will thank God that I wrote something a bit different, from the unique inspiration of my heart.

So would one of my books end up on the discard heap? Sure, it’s possible. But I believe that I am called to write and am very happily obeying that call. Yet my Boss may want me to compose stories for reasons other than publication. Whether my early reader or middle grade novel is cherished and kept, or ends up in the bottom box on the floor under a table of used books, is up to the Lord.


Posted by Ramona Heikel
Happilywriting.com