Writers' Workshop Day

Spent much of the day in a writers' workshop today at church . It was interesting and helpful. The best part was the writing exercises, and hearing other people's writing. The writing today had an openness and authenticity that's been rare in our church's arts conversations so far.

However, again, I was left with the question of "what do I do with this thing, now that I've made it?" What good is a collection of short stories or poems sitting on my own hard drive or in my own notebooks? As always, we were encouraged to refine our work, to expand upon today's exercises. But, again, I'm left in this lonely question of "why?"

The habitual writer will say, "I can't NOT write." And that's true for me. Writing is like exhaling, like blinking, like leaving the artifact of a footprint in a forest. It can't be helped, so we should do it well. But my habits aren't that disciplined.

The casual writer will say, "I enjoy writing." And, I do. But I enjoy a lot of things. I enjoy TV. I'm easily entertained. That's not a good enough reason for much.

The prophetic writer will say, "I must write for others." And I want others to know and feel what I do. But, I'm shy.

Yes, writing should be shared. And writing shouldn't exist to be sold. And that's why I blog - blog into the depths of anonymity, into the sea of other bloggers sharing their wares, hoping for the random possibility of forming community.

But that's also why I go to writing conferences - a community for a weekend. That, and I'm always hoping to be discovered.