At night I’m either desperately tired or sufficiently quiet. During the day I have different thoughts than I have at night; there’s just something about having no noise besides the praise music I play always. Angels enjoy constant praise; they love to worship always, and that music helps me think.
I’m thinking a lot tonight, and I’m writing a lot always. I’m passionate regarding two things in this particular order in my life: I am passionate about God, and I feel His passion when I write. Writers know what I’m speaking about. The Lord has granted me the gift writing is to help me sort out my thoughts and see pictures moving in front of me and describe them as they go… I sit amid the characters dwelling in my mind’s eye and I help them have conversations they might not otherwise have. Does any of that make sense?
Anyone passionate about anything God-given and exciting knows what I’m talking about – not just writers. Writing is just my thing. God is my thing, first.
Folks are sometimes so stopped up in their emotions, yet things only get done when we talk. My mother was one for conversation; she always urged me to talk. I was urged to (respectfully) express my feelings, whether I ever did or not. My mother was just great. She and I once talked from night until dawn – so my characters sit and talk to each other; my characters sit and talk…
Thoughts as this night pass are buzzing through my mind. I praise God for His gift of writing, and I never want to credit myself or anyone else, solely, for the things God has given me. I praise Him for His generous gift and my passion for it.
I praise Him through the night.