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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Scribble and Scrambles - Just Use it Already!

This is how neurotic I am.

Ready?

I have carried a special writer's notebook around in my purse for nearly two years.

A lot of writers do this.

However, my special journal has been sealed in it's original plastic wrap rendering it useless whenever I felt the need to jot something down. So while I dug through my purse for crinkled paper, old receipts, bank deposit slips, whatever upon which to write, I'd scrape my knuckles across my leather bound writer's notebook and feel guilty for not using it and terrified to use it.

The fact that this writing implement was a gift seemed to add to my fear of using it incorrectly. How could I scribble stupid ideas in a sweet, professional writer tool -- what if someone read (or attempted) to read my scratchings and decided I wasn't worthy of something only a real writer uses? What if I read what I'd written on a low and melancholy day and came to that same conclusion?

As we drove to the lake last week I birthed an idea so I dug through my purse for scraps.

It hit me. Maybe I'd take myself a little more seriously if I'd use my tools.

I ripped the plastic off. Opened the book and breathed in the scent of leather. I almost felt like a real writer. With a shaking hand I wrote my idea. Then another, and a third.

Not that tough. The world didn't stop spinning. A pig didn't fly overhead. Music didn't swell in the background.

Next, I'm going to begin writing in the prayer journal that sits waiting for me to fill it and be blessed by the words that are fed to my heart. Who knows what I'll do next, maybe I'll buy new dishtowels...and use them!

Anyone else struggle with this craziness? Please don't tell me I'm alone....

3 comments:

Kristi Herbranson said...

I'm with you on this one! It's only when I buy something new that I truly start using the thing I am replacing - like dishtowels.

I think we try to decorate our lives more than we try to live them sometimes.

Diane said...

I'm so with you! I have collected numerous beautiful leather journals, just-the-right-sized notebooks, and gathered pens with exactly the right ball-point end....all in an effort to jot down writing ideas when I least expect them. They are neatly organized in my night stand...should the writing muse hit during my sleep! Still, it is when I jot something down on the outside of an envelope, the side of my Bible page, or scratched on a napkin that I kick myself for thinking I need a fancy-dancy notebook or journal!

For awhile, I wrote on yellow, college ruled Notebooks...thinking that that must be writers use. Then, I began writing on un-ruled paper...not wanting to be limited to lines or format! Most often, I write on my laptop...which means I now feel quelched if my laptop is not near.

For crying out loud.

Just write!

The hoops we put ourselves through.

Good for you....for taking the plastic off that notebook! That is a very important first step!

Enjoy that purse-sized notebook!

Can't wait to see what unfolds!

Diane

Kelly Klepfer said...

Whew! Thanks, Kristi and Diane.

Shall we start a club?

Ha.