Why I Write

As a child I had the need to put words on paper. I remember the small printing press in the toy catalog. I wanted it so bad. It never became mine.

I remember taking a stack of small notebooks my dad brought home from work and filling them with words and pictures. I then put them in our neighbor's mailboxes.

One time I bought set of alphabet rubber stamps. It was tedious but I could put my words on paper in what seemed like professional output.

I loved using my mom's manual typewriter. Erasable bond paper made it possible to fix the mistakes which were many and what a miracle the invention of correction paper was.

Years later, in my early twenties, a ministry I was involved with bought an offset printing press. I became the operator and was able to print whatever I wanted. It was the adult version of the toy printing press I desired but never had.

It's not just words that I put on paper but it’s my thoughts. Things are coming out of my brain that won't come out of my mouth but find their way through my fingers.

I write because I can't not write.

But there is a big problem: I squandered my education. I wasted the years when I had the opportunity to learn the art of writing. I am always wondering if people are put off by my writing by the way I write it. Are they correcting my grammar and punctuation in their mind as they read and wonder why I even try? And many times I accept the fact that few are reading at all. But it doesn't matter; I will still write.

So why would I want to go to a writer's conference? I should have my head examined to even think I could spend a few days with real writers. I hardly like to be with people in social settings anyway. Wouldn't this be even worse; the poser amongst the professionals?

I will allow myself a small dream. Maybe I could win a free trip. Maybe if I won and people knew how I got there, I could get by with it. Maybe they would take pity. Maybe they would understand. Maybe I could learn and as time goes by my writing would be worth reading.

And maybe what I say could help someone out. Maybe someone else could be inspired to walk closer with Jesus. Maybe they would be warned of dangerous things and ideas. Maybe the world would be a little better because I put words on paper.

Here is the writer's conference I am talking about:
Laity Lodge Writer’s Retreat

Philip