I just finished a book that was so well-written, it made me want to cry. It wasn’t so much the content of the book, although it was unbelievably moving, as much as the way the words were strung together so exquisitely. Some might find it a bit odd that I would be moved to tears by grammar and syntax. However, if you are a voracious reader (and I am not talking avid readers, I am talking about those of us who consume books nearly as often as we consume food), then you may understand my tears. You see, I have read a LOT of crap.
There are certain authors that never turn out a book unless it is exquisitely written…a masterpiece of sorts. These are the authors that cause me to gobble up everything they have ever written. I know I can count on them. Then there are those who turn out a wonderful book, one in which the words are artfully pieced together, and then, as if they had forgotten how, their next book reads like they have turned to autopilot and are simply cranking out the next paycheck. These are painful for a reader to digest and it was in the middle of reading one of them that I threw aside my notion to always, "finish what you start." My time is entirely too valuable.
It is for this reason that I have resisted the idea of blogging for so long. I love to write. I love putting words together and I get a goosepimply feeling when I know they have been put together in a way that will delight the average, and the not so average reader. I also know when they are crap and I am fearful that, most often, they might be. I do not, in general, require that my thoughts be artful or witty or even tasteful necessarily, unless they are to be put in writing. Then, they must be all of the above and so much more. It’s a lot of pressure.
I am going to try my hardest to let go of the idea that everyone who reads this will be bowled over by how smart and talented I am. I am starting this blog because I love to write and because, more and more, my wild journey with Christ requires that I share it. Mostly, I am doing this because the more I have contemplated the idea of writing like this, the more I am unable to let go of it. Compulsion trumps pride every time.