Changes are happening. We expect them at this time of year — leaves turning colour and drifting to the ground, blossom heads crumpling and wild grasses flattening into gold and brown. Despite the exceptional sunshine and continuing daytime warmth, we’re beginning to turn up thermostats against the chill of evenings and hunt our favourite sweaters from the back of closets.
Even as changes herald the death of a season, unique beauty lingers. With its ending also comes hope — seed pods and reminders of what will come again. Hope stands out against a fading backdrop, holding up its promise. It has me pondering a comparison with my writing.
Voice is what makes one person’s writing stand out from another’s. There is a distinctive ‘something’ that identifies us with our words. My unique voice is stronger in my non-fiction than in my fiction, and yet it’s the writing of fiction that brings me so much satisfaction. I love creating characters, plopping them into difficult situations and helping them slog through to find solutions. But if there is nothing exceptional about the stories, should I be wasting my time on them? Wouldn’t my energy be better spent writing in the zone where my ability appears to be stronger? Do I need a shove to get moving in another direction?
Or am I simply reflecting the decline around me… perhaps in need of a time of dormancy, to sit out this cycle and rebuild strength for a fresh approach?
I’ll get over this mood, but I’m sure the questions will remain. How do you know when you are where you’re meant to be?
“Action and reaction, ebb and flow, trial and error, change – this is the rhythm of living.
Out of our over-confidence, fear; out of our fear, clearer vision, fresh hope.
And out of hope, progress.”
“For as long as Earth lasts,
planting and harvest, cold and heat,
Summer and winter, day and night
will never stop.”
Genesis 8:22 (The Message)
~ ~ ~