Dear Blogreaders, I am at a serious crossroads with writing the book The Little Things, the story of my life that proves that anyone can Godwrite™, that life can change on a dime etc.
Years ago I had had supper at the Thai Deli with my friend Dianita who is a psychologist. We were talking about the inner child, and got into family stories, and I told Dianita quite a few from my family. She said I should really write down these stories. Dianita planted a seed.
Heaven Admin watered the seed that Dianita planted. It was he who suggested that I tell the story of my life with purpose. And I have been writing all my family history with gusto.
But you know, as good as the intent is, this morning, as I read over some the family stories I tell, they are so grim, so many are grim, so many are painful stories that I wonder why I would possibly want anyone to read them. What is the point of sharing these stories? I am aghast at some of these stories.
This is the crossroads I'm talking about.
Right now it feels like I might do well to chuck the whole project.
How does what I'm writing uplift? It doesn't. Where is the inspiration in these painful stories? Little or none. And God tells us to get out of the past! -- and here I am dwelling on it.
Maybe it is cathartic for me to write down these stories, yet right now I am not even sure about that.
This morning when I went to read over a few chapters, no matter how well written, no matter how fascinating, I did not want to read them over. Too painful and not meaningful enough.
So now, why am I writing down some of these tales? Why subject others to them? What is the good in anyone's reading them, and why would I even think of sharing them?
On the forum, I would object to anyone's posting some of these stories. I would be the first to say:
This forum is for inspiration and not angst.
Of course, some of the stories do have redeeming love in them, but some of the others -- and now it is the others that I have to question. I have to ask myself what do I think I'm doing. Maybe the book, The Little Things, Before God and After God needs to begin with After God and forget the Before God. The Before God could be pared down to its essence:
There isn't anything in my childhood to even hint at what favor God would shine upon me later.
Yet here I am telling tales and the woeful way I see them. Maybe they are not my stories to tell, like the ones about The Dark Queen you may remember. I have been caught up in this. Why aren't I caught up in writing The Godwriting Book?
Of course, I'm thinking out loud. I'm asking myself these questions and not really asking them of you. Blogreaders, just being able to have you here to write to is a blessing in my life.