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I am aware of the tugging like a quiet voice whispering in the back of my mind, write, write it, tell it, stop waiting, write… A repeat cycle. The voice in persuasive and persistent. It is a whisper that I missed; for too long it remained silent. Now in celebration of my muse’s return I pick up my blue HB pencil and my waiting three ringed notebook. I smile at myself acknowledging the relic writer that I am with my preference to pencil my craft as a beloved first draft before allowing my fingers to re-live the telling as they fly over the keyboard making rapid strokes and symbols on the screen. With that I stop waiting and I begin to write, to write it, to tell it….
By Shari Marshall 2020
Oh no – no – no.
I’m convinced that no serious writing could have possibly happened until the invention of the keyboard and word processor. Even with the handy eraser – I can capture, edit and revise my words faster – faster sometimes than my brain can arrange them.
Think how easier the Pentateuch would be to read if Moses had had a simple laptop with a sand-resistant case.
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