The following is a poem written in December of 2003 by an English teacher at an alternative school for high school dropouts where I was the principal.Read More
I have blocks of hours in my day that in the past have been wasted ones. What I know to do, I don’t do—for the most part. Why is that? Do I just drift and dribble my minutes away? I will never know what I might have written during those wasted hours. The blank page stands as a testimony of lost opportunity. May they be few in the days and months and years ahead.Read More
What I didn’t write last week will never be written because time marches on and my mind is determined to keep pace and current. But I know in the past I have written some amazing things when I didn’t interfere too much—amazing even to me because some of what I have written was not planned out, not mulled over, not intellectualized to death.Read More
Great things are not done by impulse but by a series of small things brought together.
—Vincent van Gogh
I had no idea how powerfully this quote would affect my writing. Since I posted it on the bulletin board in my office several years ago, it has become an intentional approach when thinking about a writing project.Read More
It seems to me that readers read to “get” and writers write to “give,” and if what is given meets the needs of the “getter,” then both sides win.
This scenario echoes what Watchman Nee calls “ministry.” He says that with the help of the Holy Spirit we can identify the condition (of the reader, our audience) and then offer the message needed (through our writing).Read More
A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people. —Thomas Mann
I dreamed one night that I was asked to announce the title of my next book publicly (from a stage of some kind). But as I stood there after making the announcement, I had the uneasy feeling that I had just announced the wrong book—that the audience was expecting me to give another title. I woke up at 3:00 a.m. unnerved.Read More
I don’t know if you are like me, but thoughts race before the eyes of my mind like cars on a fast-moving train. I glimpse an idea for a split second before another one zips by without invitation and disappears before I can blink. Most of those train cars are vaguely familiar to me because the ideas they represent have come around before . . . they keep coming around until I finally reach out and grasp one and pin it down for closer examination—much like an artist might grab a fallen leaf and pin it on a board in order to examine it closely enough to paint it.Read More
“Get your own life.” I recently heard this and was puzzled. It was that still small voice speaking to me again. Don’t I have my own life? Have I ever had my own life? I pondered this for a couple of days, thinking back over my life.Read More
From my research on the impostor phenomenon, I have gained insight into how identity is shaped or misshaped during the early years, and how personalities come forth from identity. As I began to better understand the inner workings of internalizing what we see and hear, I looked back on my life’s journey and realized that who I was created to be . . . was not who I had become.Read More
You know, when you hear that still small voice inside you say something—interrupting your normal thoughts and seemingly out-of-context—you just have to stop what you’re doing and pay attention. For me, that means I grab my journal and write it down with date and time. I then remain alert going forward . . . sometimes for days, or months, or even years with an awakened awareness of those softly spoken but always profound words.Read More