Writing...

I have spent the last year or so, writing a book. I have been adding those different sections on this blog. It has been a great joy to put them on. You can spend hours writing words out to just yourself. It is very lonely, and while rewarding, has little treats after each completed sentence. There is a great satisfaction in the labor itself. But what good is it to make something that you, yourself can only enjoy, and not let others partake in.

I dont know who reads this, but I enjoy the thought someone is, and I take delight in believing that one work, inspires another. To tell my stories for their own sake, is narcissism, but to tell them, to help and serve others stories, is more like art. and while I am probably no great artist, I do enjoy sharing the work.

With that said, I thought it would be helpful to explain that. I am hoping to put many of these essay/blogs into a manuscript do in a few months. And so this has become like my chalkboard, and rough sketch of some of that.

I had been thinking, as most authors do of how do you begin a book? which story tells it all. sums it up. awakens longing, declares the mission? It is the hardest task in the world. and up to this point, I believe that teh intro is not something you pick out, but that it picks you out. In that effort, this kinda came to me tonight in some inspiration.

as we still work on the title, the words that seem true in there would be:

oil, sweat, blood, dirt, dust, tears, and roots. not sure which, not sure which are better, but in that I kinda played with a real short opening...


They say oil does not mix with water. And that blood is red. And dirt from the earth is brown. But when blood dries, it is dark like dirt. And when my tears finally came, it came through oil and things I did not expect find it in, nor were supposed to merge.

I would have never known this. I had just listened to people, and books, and the talk of those around me. Oil, and sweat, and tears, and dirt did not get on me. I was a bit more educated. But when it was all said, and when God was done, they did come, and all bled together in color, mixing like a tray of oil paints into one textured color that I cannot describe by describing the color, but by telling you this story.