WORDS WITHOUT PURPOSE ARE MEANINGLESS: PART TWO

“I am a writer”

They say that if you repeat something often enough you come to believe it. So at the end of every post those four words shall be my statement of purpose.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under Heaven.” Ecclesiastes 3:1.

Have you ever felt like you were meant to do something, but you waited too long, and you missed it? Welcome to my world. I was twenty, in college. Just for fun I decided to take a creative writing class. I was studying to be an architect, but why not; seemed like an easy credit. And at my age I liked easy—so write I did. Surprise; writing seemed so natural and I was enjoying it. My instructor suggested I explore, at a deeper level, this craft of writing. Not me, I was going to be an architect.

Forty-two years later, here I am, writing books; knowing it is what I have been called to do. So, did I wait too long, did I miss it?

No!

Passion, fueled by four decades of ‘real life experiences’, has added richness and depth to the words I write. This is my season, perfectly ordered by God.

Each one’s life consists of seasons; blocks of time allotted by God. And we are called to bring meaningful purpose to those seasons of our lives. So, if you detect a pulse, no matter how faint; good news, you have not ‘missed it’. This is your time; pursue your calling, pursue your passion.

Now back to me.

My wife Karen and I live in a place we love; Seaside Oregon; and I am pursuing my passion. I am in final edit of my first full length suspense novel (The Dark Side of Winter) and about to embark on my next book (Shades of Yellow; Tainted White). This summer I sold my first inspirational short story and I continue to write short stories as a fun exercise to improve my writing. Life is good.

The books in my head are screaming to get out. So, as the rainy season on the Oregon Coast fuels the melancholy side of my personality, I will sit in my room with a view and write.

I am a writer.

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Words Without Purpose are Meaningless

When I began my writing journey, (even though I cannot put an exact date to the process) the first question that came to my mind was why. But yet I was compelled to write. Was I really a writer? For the first twelve years of my journey, that question nagged me.

Please indulge me for a time; I will address my opening comment. But first let me take you back to my beginnings. From a very early age I recognized that God had placed within me a unique ability to impact my world; not by eloquent speech that can move the masses; nor by great organizational skills; or through deep rational thought bordering on scientific genius. First he placed a passion for life at the very core of my soul, and second, he blessed me with a creative mind with a love for the arts.

I am an artist, a singer, an actor, a master woodcrafter, and now a writer. But most importantly I am a lover of Jesus; He is the centering point of all I do.

So, back to the question: was I really a writer? The answer is yes, even though I didn’t know it yet. God, you see, chooses unusual ways to answer life’s nagging questions; He uses people. For me, Andy Still was one such person, who at church on a Sunday morning, (after reading a script for a play I had written) challenged me to go deeper with my writing; to try and reach the soul rather than just the mind. I went home, and from that conversation I began to write my first book; I had never done anything like this; had no idea what I was doing . . . but I did it anyway. I mean, how hard could it be? Well, It didn’t take me long to realize I was in over my head; I put it on the shelf. So, was I a writer? I wasn’t convinced, but my journey had begun.

I, by nature, am a procrastinator. I was going to finish that book; after all I had a bunch of other books in my head needing to be written; but “later” was always an option, and life goes on. Have you ever noticed how God has a way of getting your attention?

August 2010. I remember it like it was yesterday. For the first time in thirty-five years, I was out of work. I found myself in “God’s desert place of learning.” I had been there before (countless times) and was pretty sure of the lesson I was to learn. In that desert place the still small voice of God whispered a clear message to my heart: “You are a writer–so write.”

I am convinced that the journey of a million thoughts begins with one word; that first word being the hardest. I am happy to say that I am well on the road of my journey, with no looking back; and I am not alone.

I am a writer–so I will write.

Story premise of new book: “Shades of Yellow; Tainted White”

She was dead. The last hope to discover his past was buried forever, along with his 89 year old mother. Her memory had faded long before she died, leaving too many questions, and the handful of old black and white photographs did little to tell the story. But why the obsession to know? What difference could it make? For him the answer was simple: “I can’t really know who I am if I don’t know where I come from.” His wife knew better; it went deeper than that.

The U.S. Goverment internment camps of World War II had ravaged the lives and history of many Japanese-Americans. So, was it too late; was his prayer in vain? Or was there someone out there, somewhere, who held the answers to his questions?

With one mysterious phone call and five simple words: “You don’t know me, but . . .”, his journey had begun.

OCW Writer’s Conference

Saturday, October 13th 2012, OCW Writer’s Conference, Portland Oregon; my favorite OCW venue. Colleen Coble was great; so accessible and willing to share her wisdom and experience, helping new writers like myself fulfull our calling to reach the world for Jesus, one reader at a time. My passion is just that; if not, what is the purpose in doing what we do? That is the very purpose for our existence . . . to leave the world a better place than the way we found it, one word at a time.

There is so much that can distract us from telling our stories . . . but we must persevere. So as the wind and the rain begin their yearly assault against the window of my little upstairs sanctuary, I will cozy up to my cup of coffee, settle into my comfy chair and engage the keyboard of my laptop and write.

Visit Colleen: www:colleencoble.com