The sheer number of filled notebooks hidden within my childhood bedroom closet is testament to a life-long desire to write. Teenage romances, centering around a young girl, always named MacKenzie, were the bulk of my earlier writings and, while I would be mortified should anyone read them, I find it impossible to toss them out. Those early attempts at writing the next great novel were not a waste of time, but lessons in perseverance and faith.
The Next-to-Nothing House began as an outlet for my desire to write. It was to be a safe place to wax lyrical, or, attempt to, on everyday living and faith. I say a safe place, for I'm still quite timid about exposing my thoughts for the world to see (and critique). How I admire those writers tossing self-preservation to the wind and lay bare their souls before the world. I am not there, yet. Perhaps fear is what has kept me from dedicating myself completely to this blog? By the way, a search committee needs to be formed to find a word to replace "blog". My previous dashed off posts have done nothing to further my argument of being a serious writer. They make it difficult for even myself to believe I once won a writing contest in college. My only excuse for my lax writing is an unclear vision of what this blog (there's that word again) is to be. Well,an unclear vision and three children, with their continuous interrupting of my thought process : ) I once read an interview with a female author (forgive me for not remember the name) who remarked that her sentences had grown longer in proportion to the ages of her children. As they grew older the interruptions came less often and thoughts could fully bloom within her mind. She expressed my experience exactly, but all of the blame can not be placed with the little darlings. I must step up and take responsibility.
The truth is I've not taken my dream seriously.
By 9 A.M., I find myself alone with everyone off to school for the day and nothing to keep me from sitting down to write, but more important things distract me. The breakfast dishes won't jump into the dishwasher on their own, nor will the load of towels wash themselves, and with each "one more thing" my day slips away. The next thing I know it is 10 P.M., the clean page is still mocking me, and I make another hollow promise to write tomorrow. Tomorrow is such a slippery slope to find oneself on. We tend to believe that tomorrows are infinite. I've spent more years than I'm willing to admit making plans for that elusive tomorrow; the tomorrow of empty laundry hampers, spotless kitchens, and phones that don't ring with a plea for assistance on the other end. This may come as a surprise to some of you, but those days don't exist. I'm teaching myself to be okay with this knowledge, because perfectionism is an ugly mistress which to be yoked.
Trust in the LORD with all your heart; and lean not to your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct your paths. ~ Proverbs 3: 5&6
With the mindset that every choice matters, I begin each day in prayerful contemplation, pleading with God to direct my path. It is my belief that our dreams are implanted in our souls before they are called to this earth and, therefore, are of God. As my faith grows stronger, those perfect tomorrows appear more often than not and I'm delighted to report that their perfection isn't dependent upon clean kitchens.
Do not put statements in the negative form.
And don't start sentences with a conjunction.
If you reread your work, you will find on rereading that a
great deal of repetition can be avoided by rereading and editing.
Never use a long word when a diminutive one will do.
Unqualified superlatives are the worst of all.
De-accession euphemisms.
If any word is improper at the end of a sentence, a linking verb is.
Avoid trendy locutions that sound flaky.
Last, but not least, avoid cliches like the plague.
~William Safire, "Great Rules of Writing"
