More than Writers

I’m excited! You might wonder as there is so much pain and conflict in parts of the world like Ukraine as I write!   Life still goes on and we can only continue to hold God’s creation in prayers. Back to my excitement. No, to all your thoughts about a published book, a completed manuscript, a compelling review, a contract offer… I’ll give you a clue. It couldn’t have been easy for our Papa God to have created the world in the time He did! He had it all planned out and like us, must have mulled over what things to prioritise.   It was hard work and it had to be perfect. What excited God was His doing something new and completely different from all His other works of creation. That was when He created you and I! He said, ‘Let us make man in our image’. Surely, it was the creation of Man that pleased Him the most. He must have been excited. How do you feel when you create new genres and works?  In November 2021, during the NaNoWriMo season, I birthed a new book of 50,395...

As I've been praying for the Ukrainian crisis this week, the thought crossed my mind, why am I praying?  Will it really make any difference?  The next moment I found myself answering my own question as if I was the Prayer speaking.  Was it God speaking to me?  Was it just my imagination?  It was probably both but it made me think of the wonder of characterization, seeing and writing from another's perspective, and how broadening to our understanding that is.  So here in the voice of Prayer . . . I was born today A horror felt A grief unconsoled An unpassable mountain. I was that tiniest nudge inside your heart The whisper that passed almost unheard A flame flickering within A drawing up to God. I was born today As fragile and pure as a feather Tickling your heart and thought-life With the promise of hope. I was born today A longing felt for change, for justice A glimpse of gold An unquenchable fire The joy of God. I was born today A breath of words whispere...

  (Photo by Anastasiya Romanova on Unsplash ) Every now and then, I find myself crafting a poem for somebody who may not have been expecting one. Sometimes that person is me. The words come suddenly: in the shower (inconvenient), on the bus, while out walking, when eating my porridge (that happened this morning). As I write, the lines and spaces become God’s opportunity to speak to me. At other times, my family and friends appreciate (I hope) the personalized poems they receive from me as birthday gifts, in sympathy cards, tucked into Easter care packages from our church to vulnerable members during lockdown. I have even been known to send my poetry to total strangers and noble causes online. Two particular experiences, one long-distance and one closer to home, come to mind today to share as an encouragement to keep on praying, listening, and writing. The first one was in late 2019. I offered on an international Christian Facebook group to write a poem on request, free o...

  A few years ago the church that I am a part of took on a property on the High Street, with the idea of turning it into a coffee shop. We had no church building, so it would be a place of contact between us and the community. People got on board with the vision, and an architect was hired to draw up some plans. What had been a small bookshop with a large storeroom behind was going to be opened up to make a light airy welcoming space. I can remember the excitement when we sat around a table and saw those plans for the first time. They detailed not only where walls would be removed but where the serving counter would be, and how many tables we could comfortably fit in. Those plans gave us something to focus on and helped us direct our prayers. The coffee shop came into being and the church ran it successfully for a while. Now it is owned and run by church members as a business, but is still a welcoming, God-filled space. A real light on the High Street. I was at a prayer meeting...

  Thirty years ago I was only the partner of a writer. Now I am a writing buddy. I have been one for nearly twenty years.   Thank goodness we’ve no garage. It would take a lot of these to fill it! There is a world of difference. Back then, my attitude was this. I was happy for her that she had a pretty full time job to do, just as I had. We could share the joys of our completed projects. Meanwhile we could coexist in parallel. It was pleasant, of course, to hear news of progress and occasionally to read and admire a finished chapter. No need to bother me with the details, any more than I bothered her with mine. But after a while the sharing began to trickle over my imaginary boundary. That made me a little less enthusiastic… I’ve read this passage before… I’ve read this passage three times before. Why do I have to read and react again? Why am I being asked about the development of this character? How can I be expected to have a view on this plot device?  Mind you, on...

  In Difficult Times by Rebecca Seaton                                                                                                                                                            The perfect book launch?! I’ve written before about success but what about when it goes wrong?   Problems can happen at different times. This could be in the writing itself, either with issues getting started or things grinding to a halt despite a winning start. Once we have completed a manuscript, it can often be difficul...

  Photo by Kate Mishchankova on Unsplash On occasion, I am a gingerbread man.  It's an annual experience. I wrote, about the first time I ever had a MRI scan: Like a gingerbread man on a baking tray being pushed into an oven, I was pushed into the scanner. Each year I have these scans, lying in a tunnel to assess what is going on inside my body. During the most recent one, I had a mirror attached to my head brace, enabling me to see out of the tunnel, into the room beyond. There wasn’t much to see. The wall (white), and the window (darkened), and my toes (occasionally they waved to me). It must have been getting on for an hour into the scan before I realised there was more. There were some words on the head brace. I could see them in the edge of the mirror. I metaphorically jumped for joy; something to read is cause for celebration indeed. Except, I couldn’t read it. I strained to see and puzzle out the writing in the mirror. Scan over, head brace and mirror wer...

  “ Have the roots [of your being] firmly and deeply planted [in Him, fixed and founded in Him], being continually built up in Him, becoming increasingly more confirmed and established in the faith, just as you were taught, and abounding and overflowing in it with thanksgiving. ”                                                        Colossians 2:7     Below is a link to a story about an ancient oak in Richmond Park. Blown over in the gales of 1987 with only a few roots left in the earth it has regrown into a magnificent tree despite it still lying on its side. One of my friends felt this was a word for us as a church that if we have deep roots in the Lord new life and growth will sprout from the old ...