Beloved, Equipped, Worthy - by SC Skillman
These three words were used in a sermon preached last Sunday by our vicar.
Strangely enough, indulging in my habit of writing things down (something I notice very few other people do, especially in church) I began to record the three words on my notice sheet. I remembered the first two and then couldn't recall the third. I asked others who were with me and they couldn't remember either. Later, however, rather than asking the vicar herself, I chose instead to test other people who'd been listening, and I found somebody who did remember. The word is "worthy".
Isn't it interesting that the word "worthy" was the one most difficult to remember? Or perhaps not. Perhaps I'm psycho-analysing too far. Perhaps I'm seeking deep psychological significance within our forgetfulness.
Do we believe ourselves worthy? I suppose, as a writer, along with all the other areas of self-doubt that prey on us, one that keeps needling along in the background is this. Why on earth would anybody else want to read my opinion, or care what I think, and why do I feel I have the right to inflict upon others my worldview? This may become even more problematic if you find that the response of publishers and agents (see Fran Hill's blog post of yesterday's date, 3 September) seems to accord with your secret feeling of unworthiness.
My latest rejection used the expression "not the right fit". I find myself thinking, what shape do I need to be to fit? Or rather, what face do I need to show, in order to be the right fit? It reminds me of a character in a book I loved as a child, The Phantom Tollbooth, The Dodecahedron, who has of course twelve faces and kept showing different expressions, and was confused because the main protagonist Milo only had one face.
Whilst acknowledging we need to constantly be seeking to learn our craft and to aspire toward excellence, I also believe we need to have faith that we are worthy right now, as we already are.
Worthy in our passion, worthy in our drive and compulsion to write, and worthy in our individual life-experience. Worthy in our individual take upon the world and worthy despite the individual, subjective opinions of publishers and literary agents.
Beloved, equipped and worthy: let's all keep those three in mind even while we aspire to excellence.
Isn't it interesting that the word "worthy" was the one most difficult to remember? Or perhaps not. Perhaps I'm psycho-analysing too far. Perhaps I'm seeking deep psychological significance within our forgetfulness.
Do we believe ourselves worthy? I suppose, as a writer, along with all the other areas of self-doubt that prey on us, one that keeps needling along in the background is this. Why on earth would anybody else want to read my opinion, or care what I think, and why do I feel I have the right to inflict upon others my worldview? This may become even more problematic if you find that the response of publishers and agents (see Fran Hill's blog post of yesterday's date, 3 September) seems to accord with your secret feeling of unworthiness.
My latest rejection used the expression "not the right fit". I find myself thinking, what shape do I need to be to fit? Or rather, what face do I need to show, in order to be the right fit? It reminds me of a character in a book I loved as a child, The Phantom Tollbooth, The Dodecahedron, who has of course twelve faces and kept showing different expressions, and was confused because the main protagonist Milo only had one face.
Whilst acknowledging we need to constantly be seeking to learn our craft and to aspire toward excellence, I also believe we need to have faith that we are worthy right now, as we already are.
Worthy in our passion, worthy in our drive and compulsion to write, and worthy in our individual life-experience. Worthy in our individual take upon the world and worthy despite the individual, subjective opinions of publishers and literary agents.
Beloved, equipped and worthy: let's all keep those three in mind even while we aspire to excellence.
Really good points here. I love 'Worthy in our passion, worthy in our drive and compulsion to write, and worthy in our individual life-experience.' It is true that so often we doubt these things. Thank you for this!
ReplyDeleteIt seems to me that 'worthiness' as writers is a movable feast, too. We shift the goalposts continually with each little success. 'When I've published my first article ... when I've published my tenth ... when I've actually published a book ...' etc etc. God must think we're bonkers, judging ourselves like that, when he's already made quite clear that it doesn't depend on achievement.
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