I almost didn’t get to posting this. This morning I was Dale the Traveler-To-Be, packing for what promises to be a joyful time with my birth family. My sister Lynne turns 75 tomorrow, and her siblings and a couple cousins will help her celebrate by fulfilling a long-awaited dream: a cross-country train ride. We’ll meet up this afternoon in Denver, and in the morning–her birthday–we’ll ride the California Zephyr to Grand Junction. Then a day enjoying the rugged Colorado countryside before Friday’s ride on the Zephyr back to Denver.
Everyone gets off the train in Denver, except me. I’m continuing overnight to Chicago (overnight on the train: my bucket list item), then the Hiawatha to Milwaukee.
So it’s no wonder I almost forgot about my readers…but something I shared elsewhere reflects my most recent reflection:
Lately, I’ve found myself sort of wandering more than writing–a little paragraph here, an idea-worth-developing there. So I’ve intentionally taken a couple weeks to focus not on writing but on reading. Short stories…one novel (and another on the table)…periodicals–anywhere I might find a gem or two. And I usually do.
Especially now, when I’m early in a writing project. I run across sudden inspirations for a character, a crisis, or some Very Important Matter that often emerge seemingly out of nowhere. They may/may not (or not yet) find a place in my story–so they’re dropped into a document already populated by dozens of similar maybe’s. They’re intriguing–even though I have no place for them in my story. Not yet, anyway.
So when I’ve exhausted what I have to say about THAT and move on to something else–I keep what I have, because you never know…
They’re like LEGOs. We have a bin of these little plastic blocks for visiting children. But LEGOs aren’t just for kids–I have a nephew and a son-in-law, both fathers themselves, who thrive in LEGOland. They delight in the hundreds of LEGO shapes, sizes, and colors even more than I do, each a potential starting point, always useful somewhere. No single block is a complete story–yet.
Neither are those little inspirations we get. But don’t dismiss them; keep them handy. In my beloved UCC, we’re fond of saying that “God is still speaking,” after all. These may not be random, but intended for us, gifts from the Spirit, useful as we build the masterpiece known as our life.
Thanks for reading! And if “Fifty-Three Weeks” has been in your reading log, I would welcome your review on Amazon. Or in a note to me if you’d like. Feedback is welcome; as a kind of rookie writer, it’s like gold.
Literary LEGOs
