More from the Festival of Faith and Writing

Two keyboard klackers surrounded by an auditorium of fellow wordies!

Just downloaded the latest batch of pictures from my camera and found this one, and some pictures of our motel room in Grand Rapids. But I won’t bore you with those. :)

I’m still picking away at the layers of stories, images, lectures, emotions, and thoughts from the Festival. I think the one thing that keeps showing up is telling the truth. There were quite a few authors who spoke on that topic in different genres and various arenas, and they had varying opinions on whether it’s possible or not. Especially for Christian women writers, who usually feel bound to a certain level of niceness in the way they treat their topics. I got the feeling that a lot of writers struggle with this balancing act that I feel too. Anyone who’s read my blog for the past couple of years knows that I’ve gotten into some hot water both for telling only part of the truth, and for telling too much of the truth. That’s what really scares me about writing. Once it’s written down, you can’t take it back. If you change your mind, you can write something that lays out your new take on the event, but you never get to erase what’s published.

One of the workshops at the Festival was on metaphors for the writing process. We all had a few minutes to think about our writing and what it’s like for us. Some people said it’s like rock climbing – standing at the bottom and looking up, you can see your first few moves, and that’s it. The rest comes after you start. Some people said it’s like moving to a new city – packing up your house and deciding what stays and what goes, then settling into the new place and discovering things you didn’t know existed.

For me, writing is like being thrown into something that I’ve never been taught to do, but I know that I must do it. I don’t have all the pieces I need, but I’m going to start anyway, because not doing it isn’t an option. There are a lot of possibilities:

• it could turn out wonderfully
• it could be a disaster
• I might never finish
• I might finish and still feel that it’s not enough
• people with better tools might do better than me
• I might do better than anyone expects
• I might find that people enjoy or use what I write
• it could be rejected or ignored
• it could be confusing and messy

 But it’s worth doing because finding the truth is always worth the effort.

Until next time,
Jen