I often thought it would be cool to write a book. I don't know, say a novel. For some reason they seem easier...unlike non-fiction that requires all that studying.
Until one day when I sat down and tried it. Yes, I know, that's a hilarious thought. No one decides one day to sit down and write a book. Not any sane person.
I remember sitting there and thinking, obviously, what should it be about? And the more I thought about it the worse the idea seemed...all the who, what, when, where, and why's were overwhelming.
And since then I've had great respect for anyone driven enough to put their thoughts together and spend the blood, sweat, and tears it takes to turn out any work worth reading.
People often say to me, You should write a book! And Lord knows I try so hard not to start guffawing right in their faces. Dear one, you have no idea. I don't have the training, or the dedication, or the desire to do so.
That's probably why I blog. It's short. It's sweet. It's to the point.
And I can be done in 2 hours or less.
Awhile back, I picked up one of Donald Miller's books at my favorite used book store: A Million Miles In A Thousand Years, and promptly added it to my pile of want-to-reads, where it remained until this week. When I bought his book I had no idea what it was about. But it had Donald Miller on the cover and I hadn't yet read it and that's all I needed to know.
Sometimes I need a dose of Donald Miller. Or Frederich Beuchner. Or Brennan Manning. Or Anne Lamott. Someone who others might might raise their eyebrows over, but who I think are spot on...
People who give me a dose of something out of my box...out of my comfort zone. People who call me to think in ways I have long forgotten. Or in new ways that I desperately need.