I just recently finished reading Blue Like Jazz. There’s a chapter in the book where Donald Miller talks about his life as a writer – how writers make one dollar, how he spends much of the day in his underwear trying to write but mostly reading books by other successful authors who are actually published, and how writers often feel that nothing they ever write is worth anything unless a publisher validates their work. And all the while I was thinking . . . that sounds so glamorous.
The problem is coming up with something – anything – that I would like to write about at length. I sometimes think that if I had a drug-filled past I’d have a lot more to write about. But I wasn’t one of those Pastor’s Kids (PKs). I would vent my anger by slamming doors or writing really long diary entries. I “rebelled” by playing my music really loud or staying out 20 minutes past curfew. I was a real bad ass. But I think if I had a past like Jay Bakker I’d have a lot to write about, although I’m pretty sure his book sucks. I’d much rather watch his show.
What to write . . .