Originally written April 10, 2006.
I have often wondered what the life of a writer would look like, and sometimes it scares me.
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I imagine a life of some solitude, with trips to the park or a local Starbucks for a good afternoon of writing. That’s how it’s portrayed in the movies anyway (seen Finding Neverland?).
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I did something today that I have never done before. I felt a calling to abandon my room and all of my stuff and come – alone – to a Panera to eat dinner and write. I didn’t want to. The thought of it made me feel uncomfortable, and I hesitated. I don’t know why I hesitated. I have thought of doing similar things before and they sounded wonderful each time. I think that, perhaps, when I finally set in my mind to go, Satan became afraid (and maybe I did, too). I think that maybe, he could see a glimpse of what might happen should I get out and really start writing – something grand. But this time I sensed him trying to keep me someplace safe – someplace where he could keep me distracted from my writing with television, comics, books, and that time-consuming thing sitting on my desk . . . the computer.
Because this could be it, couldn’t it? This could very well be the beginning of a successful, God-glorifying writing career.
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“Life is to you a dashing and bold adventure.” That’s what the underside of my Jones Soda bottle cap says. And that’s sort of what this trip is – a tiny adventure.