I hereby open a document in which much of what is written is not proven, or even very well thought out.

Writing, for the purpose of this post, will include any type of writing, whether columns, poems, songs, articles, maybe even sermons, and, blogs.

I’m suspicious there are more of us than we think. 

I’m quite certain that the reason we don’t know about more of us is because of something similar that we all face.

That is, lack of confidence, or lack of courage to share what we have written.

And that is okay. 

Not everything you write needs to be published or shared.

I would like for what I write next to be an encouragement to those who write. 

There.  Now that I’ve sufficiently prattled on for seven lines, I got my main point out in the open. 

Which, I’m guessing, probably isn’t the right way to do it.

A writer is a noticer.

You may not think of yourself as such, but you are.  Some of us notice tangible things; some notice emotions, or the change of them.  Some notice the way a phrase says itself to you in a lovely way. 

You won’t or can’t have anything to write about if you haven’t first noticed it. 

And, you won’t write about it if you chew yourself out for being stupid and dumb for the way you are; if you compare yourself to someone who doesn’t write and call yourself weak or unstable. 

Not everyone is a writer.  Not everyone is a noticer.

Some are doers; some are leaders.  These folks are steady and stable.  Their lives consist of normalcy and regular diets.  Kudos to them, but, kudos to yourself since you aren’t like them.  Not being like them is why you write.

You need to have a place where you are comfortable jotting down random thoughts or ideas that you might write on later. 

You don’t need to share that place with anyone, and it’s perfectly okay to delete its entire contents from time to time.  As long as you start filling it back up immediately.

Write for yourself, first of all.  Write everything you want to, and as fast as you need to.  You can pare it down later when you go in and delete whole paragraphs, or verses, in one fell swoop.  When you don’t hold on to little sentences or lines here and there for dear life, but rather blow the whole thing off indicates you are willing for the big picture to be better; you haven’t succumbed to tunnel vision of one spot or phrase that seems so ‘special’ or unique to you.  And do you know what?  That’s a sign you might be a writer. 

Don’t write for the numbers.  I know, I know.  We all are human, and the numbers have a way of tugging at us.  But don’t write for them.  If you do, your stuff will soon take on whatever flavor you think the numbers want, and, it won’t be you, in the end.  Which is nothing short of a travesty.

I used to watch the numbers; tried to figure out what I needed to do to get it right based on the number’s feedback.  I found that when something went viral, it bothered me just as much as when it sank, with hardly a ripple, in silent death.  I choose not to know, today, how many or few will read this.  Because I’m writing for myself, first of all.

Next, write for a friend, or friends.  But don’t tell them you are writing for them.  That will bring the same pressure on as the numbers do. 

Pour yourself out in your writing.  Don’t worry about being politically correct.  Don’t make yourself find a moral or allegory for every piece you write.  It’s okay to write about the slice of life that is being served up, just as it is, to yourself on any given day. 

If you try to make it all so correct, then the folks who end up reading your stuff will be disappointed.

Because you know what?  We like to see ourselves, the dirtiest and the best, in what someone else writes.  We get a subconscious feeling that since they cared enough to write about their mistakes and good times, that, indirectly, they care about us. 

If it’s all so perfectly framed, that feeling of care is left for something that might pass every writing criteria, but is vegetarian at best. 

Every time you write, you volunteer to do so. 

Which is super. 

I’m proud of you for doing so. 

But volunteering starts and sounds a bit like vulnerable.  Don’t be surprised if your basic humanity will scream at you, just like mine is screaming at me right now, about how off course you are to mainstream humanity. 

But you know what?  Most of the time your basic humanity is governed by lies.  We need to be completely vulnerable to write at our best.

Writing, for you, at this point in life, is a necessity.  That doesn’t mean you have to maintain it for the rest of your life, or even the rest of the year. 

If you have dabbled in writing, you know that it is a sort of catharsis for you and your own wellbeing. 

Keep it up!  Definitely keep writing. 

And, don’t forget to encourage your fellow writers along the way, even if they have written years longer than you or are just starting out.  Every writer I know hits the vulnerability spot at some point or another, and, probably more often than not.  You, as a fellow writer, know exactly what that moment feels like. 

There are a number of good reasons to publish, should you choose to.  

One being that some of us like reading other people’s stuff, and how else can we unless they share it publicly.

Here are a several thoughts, should you publish.

Grammar, and proper sentence structure definitely make for easier reading.  But don’t expect to get it all right, every time.  It seems like after about so long, you sort of catch your stride, or get a feel for what seems right, even if you, like me, haven’t done the proper study to know what is actually right. 

The second area that you will grow into is your style.  Don’t castigate yourself for repeated ways of doing things.  This is your style.  It never hurts to be open minded about new ways of doing things, but your way is your way, and we read you for exactly that.

Another thing to keep in mind, should you wish to publish, is when. 

Don’t make the mistake I made. 

I blonded it totally. 

I was so enthused with what I had written (this personal enthusiasm is perfectly okay, by the way) that, after proofing it, I popped it right out there, and then realized I had a church meeting I was supposed to be at that evening.  It would have been better to publish after the meeting, to give a new project like mine, and yours, time to settle so you don’t come away with such a hot face.

*****

For the non-writer.

If any of you have read this far is nothing short of amazing.

Would you allow me to jump on my soapbox for a bit? 

Was that a resounding no, or grudging yes?

I don’t wish to misrepresent the Holy Writ in any way, but I think there is a certain area that some of us have been assigning the wrong definition to for some time.

It’s where it talks about the man who was going on a long journey, and he gave some of his ‘talents’ to servants.

It seems to me that he was handing out responsibilities, not abilities, there. 

I mean, face it.  If anyone had someone walk up to them and offer them some ability, (or talent like we tend to use the word) and that ability being exactly what they had wanted to be all their life, would you see them walking away, or taking it and hiding it? 

On the other hand, if someone walked up to you and handed you some responsibility to top off what you were already carrying, I can see why you might act like those folks did.

So let’s set the matter straight.  A writer has abilities you don’t have.  You have abilities a writer doesn’t have. 

And it seems to me that by the end of each of our lives, we each have been afforded equal opportunities to use our unique abilities to touch other people’s lives. 

Some do it with writing.

Some serve the most soul warming meals.

Some have a knack for rolling in the dough, and then just as quickly, they roll it back out to help others.

A writer would much rather hear how what they wrote made you feel than some corny remark about talents or abilities.  When you go on and on about how a writer has such great abilities, it actually encourages the writer to shut down; that kind of exposure is very negative.

But a quiet word, or short message of thanks does just the opposite, whether we or cook, or preach, or work in hospitals, or in nursing homes or . . . Do you get it?

I think we all need to purge that talent word from our vocabulary, whether we are writers or not.

Hmm.

I think I got off course somewhere and can’t think of a suitable way to wrap this up. It may be that I got off my soapbox on the opposite side of the one I climbed onto it.