God, gender and the use of pronouns

Tony KrizBy Tony Kriz 

Today on “Off The Highway,” The Shack and Cross Roads author, William Paul Young (whom we just announced is a featured Faith & Culture Writers Conference speaker), addresses an issue for which he is, uniquely, both a lightning rod and a thoughtful scholar.  In The Shack, Paul famously embodies God the Father, “Papa,” as an African-American woman and the Spirit as a wispy Asian woman.

I want to focus today’s post on an implication of Paul’s theology… a very practical implication for me in my vocation.

As a writer on topics of faith and spirituality, God is often the subject of my writings.  At this point in my writing development, one issue that I am working through is the use of God-pronouns in my writings.

To put it simply, do I refer to God as exclusively “he” or do I mix in both “he” and “she” references.  Straight talk.

Paul Young, mixes his references. For instance, he most typically refers to the Spirit as “she” since the Hebrew word for Spirit is grammatically a feminine word.

I had an article published earlier this week on a national website.  As happens, minor edits were made by the editors.  A punctuation correction here, a phrase added there.

In this article, the editors changed the word “God” to “he” at several points.

Look, I get it.  From the traditional editorial model, I use the word “God” too often, sometimes multiple times in one sentence.  I say “Godself” instead of “himself”.  My motivation is to avoid the gender question as often as possible.

Here’s the deal:  I would probably prefer to weave in both “he” and “she” in reference to God.  I believe that this would be more ontologically true of God’s character, even though it would be a shock to my religious-literary tradition.  However, I know that because of that shock, many, many people from my traditions would be offended by references to God as “she.”

On the other hand, referring to God as “he,” particularly if it is exclusively as “he” is also offensive to a significant group of people that I very much care for, a group that has often experienced indefensible abuse at the hand of males.  I want to write as inoffensively as possible.  I desire to be heard.

So what am I left with?  I can either risk offending (thus losing my message) a fairly large group by using “she” AND “he” for God OR offend another group of people (for whom the offense is often much more visceral) by sticking strictly with “he.”

My solution.  Since we don’t have an all encompassing or “neutral” pronoun in English, I try to avoid pronouns for God as much as possible.  Even if it makes my writing slightly more wooden.  If you read my most recent book ALOOF, you may even notice that from the start of the book to the end, my use of God-pronouns decreases along the way.

And why not?  Even if it is wooden, this is God we are talking about.  Throughout human history there has been a special deference to the names of God.  Scribes would use a different quill when writing a word for God.  Orators use unique and specific phrasing when speaking God’s name(s) aloud.  Why not also remove the use of pronouns, at least in English, so that whenever God is referenced the full gender-spectrum is always embodied in each use.

What do you think?

On the other hand, I am also playing with the idea of using the pronoun “they” for God, instead of “he” or “she.”  It removes the gender dilemma.  And it was God who referred to Godself saying “Let US create humankind in OUR image… Let US create them male and female.”  Maybe a transition to “they” could provide a lovely solution.  Also, it would be fun to watch auto-grammar-correct deal with a sentence like: “When God speaks to people, They tend to do so in a way that surprises.”

[Watch today’s episode to hear more of William Paul Young’s thoughts on the topic.]


Tony Kriz (D. Min.) is an author/teacher of faith and culture through media and at universities, conferences and communities of faith, and returns as one of our speakers at this year’s Faith & Culture Writers Conference,  for which he serves on the Advisory Board. He has taught in the spheres of Intercultural Studies and Spiritual Formation at Multnomah University and Warner Pacific, among others.  In addition to his recent book Aloof, he’s the author of  Neighbors and Wise Men: Sacred Encounters in a Portland Pub and Other Unexpected Places(Thomas Nelson, 2012).

Many were first introduced to this unique thinker under the name “Tony the Beat Poet” through Donald Miller’s book, Blue Like Jazz. Tony has served in places as diverse as the Muslim world and Reed College. Tony lives with his family in North Portland in an imbedded, intentional community.

Website: www.tonykriz.com | Twitter: @tonykriz

Don’t Miss the Journey Because of Your Formula

Bob Welch     By Bob Welch

I write books as if it were a game of Yahtzee and the goal were to see if you can fill in all the required blanks.
Has that made me rich? Nope.

Has it made me happy? Yep.

They say if you want to make money in the writing business you find a niche and go to that place again and again.  In other words, if the crowd loved your trumpet solo don’t come back on stage with a guitar or xylophone.  Play that trumpet, baby!

I get that. And I don’t begrudge any writer who subscribes to that theory. To each his or her own.

But here’s to those who’ve gone the other way, who’ve followed their muses, wherever those muses have taken them, even if it’s seldom meant to the bank to deposit another hefty royalty check.

Here’s to those who’ve led with their hearts and not some can’t-lose formula.

Here’s to those who’ve written as if life were a Yahtzee game and part of the fun was seeing if you could score a few points in all 12 categories: perhaps writing a three-of-a kind spiritual trilogy, a full-house family memoir, and a small straight of mysteries.

Here’s to dabblers and chance-takers and you-never-know-unless-you-try writers whose platforms aren’t chiseled precisely in granite but whose success is built of great memories.

I can relate. I am a Yahtzee writer.

World War II biographies? Three. Sports and life books? Two. Children’s? A couple with a third on the way.  Nuggets of wisdom from my favorite movies and plays? Check. Collections of newspaper columns? Check. Hiking the Oregon portion of the Pacific Crest Trail? Check.

The price I’ve paid? I’ve never gotten deep traction as an expert in any particular genre. The dividends I’ve received? Being true to who I am as a person.

I’m not touting the likes of Yahtzee writers for any sense of self-grandiosity; follow-their-muse types often find themselves being regularly humbled, my most recent example being a book event at a fire station to which three people showed up — one by accident — and firetruck sirens kept going off while I spoke.

No, this isn’t about chest-beating success. This is about the significance of the writing journey itself.

Too many writers drink the formulaic Kool-Aid suggesting you must trust a system and not your heart. And, turning 60 this week, I’ve been more contemplative than usual about how I’ve spent my life as a writer and whether going my own way has left me a failure.

My conclusion? I wouldn’t have missed the ride for the world.

By following my muse, I’ve gotten to write about the stuff that I’m passionate about — and best-suited to write about. To know an array of fascinating — and generally obscure — people. And to experience a bunch of stuff I never would have otherwise.

Because of my book research and promotion, I’ve put on a barbecue for a town of 600 people, shot hoops in the Indiana gym depicting Hickory High in the movie “Hoosiers,” spent a weekend at the Wonderful Life Festival in Seneca Falls, N.Y. and found myself in Normandy, France, on 9-11.

Along the way, I’ve met a few famous people but, ironically, the two most well known “stars” I’ve spent time with were also the only two books subjects I’ve parted ways with — because they were so unwilling to help.

Finding success in book writing is about perspective and appreciating the small victories you experience by being yourself.  It’s about the grist of the journey, not the fruits of whatever material success you experience. And about being true to your bent as a God-created human being. I think of a line from an old Amy Grant song: “All I ever have to be is what You’ve made me.”

So, sure, if you’re made that way, play another trumpet solo. But if you’re not, don’t be afraid to play Yahtzee.


Bob Welch is a columnist, speaker, author and writers workshop leader. He’s a newspaper writer and the author of 18 books, He’s been called “the most eclectic writer in America”, having written everything from children’s books to hiking the Oregon portion of the Pacific Crest Trail to faith-based offerings. His latest book is 52 Little Lessons from Les Miserables (Thomas Nelson). Learn more about Bob at BobWelch.net, or meet him at the 2015 Faith & Culture Writers Conference, where he’ll be a presenter.

Three Essentials for Writing Words that Matter

Emily FreemanBy Emily Freeman

I recently watched a four and a half minute video where author and pastor John Ortberg remembers his friend, Dallas Willard. One quick segment shows a clip from a conversation John and Dallas had only a few months before Dallas passed away.
John: “How do we help people – if somebody wants to think about, “How is my spiritual life going or how is my soul doing?” – how do we help people ask and answer that question?”

Dallas: “Well, very slowly. One at a time, we listen to them . . . I think the next thing is a question and not a statement: What’s bothering you? Start there.”

They talk some more and then John makes a joke.
John: “What’s bothering you? could be an interesting liturgical question – to start the church service asking, What’s bothering you? And the people could respond back, And also you.”

I laughed out loud when he said it and so did the audience. Then, as the clip ends, Dallas can be heard saying, “That would be absolutely revolutionary.”

I had to pause the video at that moment, three minutes and fifty-five seconds in, Dallas’ deep voice and thoughtful statement hanging there in the air over my desk. That would be absolutely revolutionary. I knew I agreed with Dallas but it took me a few minutes to figure out why.

I don’t remember being expressly taught not to be bothered, but somewhere along the way I learned it anyway. To ask myself or someone else what is bothersome seems like a self-focused, self-indulgent invitation to rant or complain. But what if we were willing to look deeper in? Instead of manufacturing peace by shooing away my frustration or smoothing out my ruffled feathers, I am learning the importance of getting quiet enough to honestly consider what bothers me – not just on the surface, but deep within my soul. Sometimes what I learn is ugly or uncomfortable. But there are other times I discover right next to my frustration lives a drop of passion I didn’t realize was there and a spark of hope I didn’t realize I needed.

What does this have to do with writing words that matter? When it comes to uncovering my authentic voice as a writer, the first thing I have to know is what is bothering me. Once I’m able to honestly access my frustrations, I can begin to uncover the passion and hope that live close-by. This is how all four of my books were born.

Being frustrated doesn’t make me qualified or ready. But it does wake something up within me, something that compels me to move and want to get ready. The frustration rolls into a compulsion towards change, passion to communicate and to move into the chaos of the questions even if I don’t have all the answers. But being frustrated about an issue and compelled to do something about it won’t sustain the message for the long-term. For me, what really keeps me moving is the hope of something better. It’s important for these three things to work together – frustration, passion, and hope. Otherwise, my voice will be something I don’t intend.
Passion and hope without frustration feels inauthentic.
If I’m not bothered deeply enough, no one else will be either. Frustration is the spark that fuels the passion and the hope. Without it, my writing won’t have enough life to meet a strong enough felt need or to tell a compelling story.
Frustration and hope without passion leads to detachment.
If I’m frustrated and have hope for change but I’m not passionate about the issue, I won’t be able to engage it with enough heart to make a difference. Love is tucked deeply inside passion, and we don’t want your loveless art.
Frustration and passion without hope leads to cynicism.
In my experience, when I am frustrated and passionate without hope, I’m vulnerable to cynicism. If I don’t have hope for change, despair creeps in and my writing feels too dark and filled with angst. Without hope, I write afraid.

Frustration wakes me up. What frustrates you? Passion gets me moving. What compels you? Hope keeps me going. What do you most hope for? I’m thankful for Dallas Willard’s revolutionary question: What’s bothering you? As writers, may we be brave enough to answer it, passionate enough to engage it, and hopeful enough to influence change.

 

Emily FreemanEmily is the author of A Million Little Ways, Grace for the Good Girls, and Graceful. She shares her words and photographs on her own website at www.ChattingAtTheSky.com. We are honored to welcome Emily as one of our featured speakers at the 2015 Faith & Culture Writers Conference.

Dare to create in world of hushes

Brooke Perry - NEW gclEjxnBy  Brooke Perry

We’ve all had it, that moment where we release the inner weapons of our mind and soul. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?

When we feel that blast of icy cold freedom, thoughts come easily like gifts and life seems like an adventure we can tackle one stroke of a paintbrush, pencil, key or chord at a time.

Not remembering a moment like that recently? They’re easy to forget. As children these moments are much easier to welcome in. We have an almost insane amount of resilience to the harshness of the world around us, even when it’s constantly in our face.

I remember daydreaming and being unrealistically hopeful as an eight year-old girl the very same day that my dad died in our home. I talked of my wedding as I sat on the couch after hearing the news that my dad had breathed his last. There was pain associated with the new reality of him not being at my wedding one day, but I could still see the dress.

Hope wasn’t completely sapped by tragedy.

My mind wasn’t completely numb to beauty.

There is something about a child’s mind that reflects the heart of God for us, and sadly, but not hopelessly, so many of us lose the permission we once distributed freely to ourselves to truly and fully…be.

We hold back, we doubt, we fear and when those ugly lies stand against our creative beautiful whole minds and hearts, it cheapens the wonderful and whimsical character that is in each of us.

Oh that we would dream in the face of death again. Oh that we would dare to create boldly and loudly in a world full of hushes. 

So, can I ask you to join us? We’d love to allow you the space to release yourself back into this world; after all, you are a result of God doing just that through His creation of you, your wonderful and beautiful self. Let’s see what’s still inside of you, shall we? We’ll give you the permission you need to create until you can find it in yourself to do the same.

Brooke is the Mentor & Agent Coordinator for the Faith & Culture Writer’s Conference.  She blogs at   BrookeNicolePerry.com

Tell your naked honest truth

marc-schelske-web-108By Marc Schelske

I started calling myself a writer a little more than a year ago.  The truth is that I’ve been writing all of my life. I’ve got a stack of book starts buried in lost corners of my computer. I’ve been writing original content in the course of my employment for almost 20 years now. I self-published a book on Amazon almost exactly 2 years ago. (Man, was that cool!)

Then, at last year’s Faith & Culture Writer’s Conference I pitched a book and ended up with an agent! But even still, it took a little stern encouragement from Jeff Goins to push me over the emotional line of actually referring to myself as a writer.

One of the tasks I started thinking about as I started taking my writing more seriously was the serious quest that all writers must embark on: “Finding my voice.”

I worried about my writing voice as I blogged. I fretted that I might invest so much time building a blog, then discover I was writing in the wrong voice all along. Then what?

I started paying attention to the voice of writers I admired.  What were the secret ingredients? How did Ann Lamott come off so self-effacing, so honestly-insecure and hilarious? What made John Gruber’s technology writing so engaging? What allowed him to be so darn opinionated and yet not off-putting?  I was thinking about my voice, and then I was thinking about my thinking about my voice. That’s a stressful mind-game if ever there was one!

Then I remembered something.  I had already found my voice once.

I’ve been a professional speaker for… well a little more than 20 years now. I’m closing in on a thousand presentations. During that time, I went through a host of stages.

  • There was the “Karaoke stage” where I tried speaking in the style and tone of various famous speakers I admired.
  • There was the “Memorized Perfection stage” where I not only wrote the presentation word-for-word, but then memorized the tone, the gestures, the whole darn thing.
  • For a few years I was in the “Speaking Factory stage” where I presented three different original talks every week for two years straight.

Through all of that I’ve tried on a pile of different voices.  I’ve channeled African American preachers, comedians, TED talk presentations, professors, and the voice I imagine favorite authors speaking in. In all of that time, I was building skills.  I was building experience. I was building courage.  But I wasn’t really finding my voice.

I found my voice when I decided what I really had to offer. 

I’ve been a preacher for most of my public speaking experience, so I had the authority of scripture and the buy-in of congregations that wanted to be taught.  But we’ve all heard preachers. We’ve heard preachers talk about the very same scripture. What makes the difference between one you connect with and one you don’t?

At first I thought what I had to offer was great scholarship. So, I’d study and research and prepare so I could understand my material as deeply as I could.  That helped me be accurate and thoughtful, but it wasn’t my voice.

Then I thought what I had to offer was well-crafted material presented with excellence.  So, I’d write and re-write. I’d practice and practice. That made my presentations less painful for the audience for sure, but it wasn’t my voice.

At one point I thought what I had to offer was a twist, a new way of looking at an old truth. So, I’d hunt and pray and reflect on my material, always looking for a new angle. That made my work more interesting — sometimes in a helpful way, sometimes not so much…  It also wasn’t my voice.

I found my voice when I learned that what I have to offer, my unique view, was my honest authentic vulnerable truth. 

Over and over I experienced this.  I’d put hours and hours into a presentation, crafting every edge, and the audience would be unmoved. Then I’d take a risk, push past the very visceral panic in my gut, and share something from my own journey. Some moment of insecurity or fear, a place where I blew it, my own weakness and doubt.  Those moments? Every. Single. Time. People responded. They were moved.  They were challenged. They grew.

I found my voice when I started telling my truth.

As a writer, I’m re-learning this lesson. I’m re-learning what it looks like to offer great content, to do it in a way that connects with people—but most of all, to do it in the most honest, authentic, vulnerable way I can bear. That’s where my voice resides.

It’s a scary place to write from. But it’s also when you start writing things that matter, things that will move people. Write as much as you can. Master the technical skills. Blog, because blogging is to writers what gigging is to musicians—it’s practicing in public. But most importantly, tell your naked honest truth. That’s where you’ll find your voice.
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Marc Alan Schelske attended his first Faith & Culture Writers Conference in 2014, and returns this year as an important member of the leadership planning team. He serves as the email and launch coordinator as well the scribe.

Marc is the author of Discovering Your Authentic Core Values, an upcoming online course called, “How to read the Bible to Hear God and Grow without Having to be a Legalist, a Theology Professor, or a Crackpot,” and has a book in development about the intersection of faith and emotion, and is represented by the DC Jacobson Agency.

Marc grew up in Ohio, but he’s lived in the Northwest long enough to feel like a native. Marc is a husband, dad of two, speaker, writer, hobbyist theologian, recovering fundamentalist who drinks tea & rides a motorcycle.

Visit him at: MarcAlanSchelske.com |Twitter: @Schelske

 

The Quest for Epiphany

 mult9_2_015-2by Tony Kriz

There is something that happens when pen hits the page, when pixels populate the screen. It is like the unknown becomes known.  It doesn’t always happen that way.  In fact it is the categorical opposite of predictable, of formulaic, but when it happens, it is magic.

Writing transcends consciousness.

I am not a genius writer. Far from it.  I have a simple formula that guides the majority of the chapters of my long form writing (books).  It goes like this (I can’t believe that I am admitting this):

You start with a story.  The magic of a story is not its drama.  It is not its otherworldliness.  It is not that it is exceptional.  The magic of a story is found in its meaningfulness.  You may ask, “Meaningfulness for the reader?”

No.  The magical element is the meaningfulness for the author.  Magic and meaningfulness exist in a delicate marriage.  When a writer writes out of their own visceral meaningfulness and into honest expression there is the real hope that magic will happen.

One more thing… When I write a book, I am essentially asking myself one formative question.  When I wrote Neighbors and Wise Men, I was asking myself “What are my formative memories when non-Christians taught me how to follow Jesus?”  In my current book, Aloof, I was asking myself “What are my formative memories about God’s presence and God’s troubling absence?”

Once a story is identified, I often don’t actually know exactly WHY it is formative, I simply know that it is.  I begin the chapter by teasing my best guess as to what the stories formative lesson might be; that is my introduction.

Next I tell the story.  I write very existentially.  If you were to happen upon me writing a chapter in a corner booth at a local pub or coffee shop, odds are you would see my face contorting with the emotions of the story I am writing.  You might see my eyes filled with moisture or a hotly furrowed brow.  That is how I write.

When the story is fully told, including a well-imagined setting, sympathetic characters and a believable conflict and climax, I move to the chapter’s conclusion.

This is where the magic happens.  It does not happen every time, but when it does, it is one of the great endorphin cocktails.  Suddenly, as if I am an observer and the chapter itself is a seducing character sitting across the table, the true meaning of the story blossoms right before my eyes.  

I rarely see it coming.  How could I?  And the surprising frequency that this newly realized meaning is harmonious with my spackled-together introduction (bringing new meaning I could not have predicted) is soothing, comforting and arousing.

If we were to flip together through the pages of my books, both of us would probably be surprised by how many chapters I would admit “I did not know where this chapter was going to end when I started it.”

Keep writing.  Write viscerally… existentially… and dare the magic.

Let the epiphanies come.  That’s how we move from the blank page to something beautiful.

Tony is the Writer in Residence at Warner Pacific College, the sponsoring host for the 2015 Conference; Tony is also on the Faith & Culture Writers Conference advisory board, and a speaker at this year’s event.  He has been at every single Faith & Culture Writers Conference, either as an attender, speaker, keynote speaker, advisor, or leader. His new book Aloof: Figuring Out Life with a God Who Hides is coming out in January, 2015. Tony writes at www.tonykriz.com.

Allowing peace to be an overflow offering this Christmas season

Ashley LarkinBy Ashley Larkin

I’m guessing you’ve heard the song “We Need a Little Christmas Now.” For me, its commands to fill stockings, bake fruitcake and deck the halls embody the bossy pressure I feel to make everything happen during the Christmas season.

Not only do many of us experience stress in the attending and tending, gifting and hosting, baking and making, but we also know the pressure to make the holiday meaningful, magical and memorable for ourselves and for others.

And by this point in the season, we might very well feel too exhausted to enjoy or even care about the day itself.

Brennan Manning asked, “What rules our lives as we prepare for Christmas? What has power over us?”

If I’m honest, more often than I would like to admit, it is compulsion to do more and fear that I will disappoint. Yep, I’m worried I will fail Christmas.

The world yells its accusations and demands, but on this Christmas Eve I am straining to hear the whisper of what I believe might be the most forgotten gift of Jesus’ birth: PEACE.

If you stop for a moment, you might hear peace in the whistle of the wind through bare branches. Or see it in the stillness of your children snuggled up under their winter covers. Or glimpse it as you look upon the glittering lights of the Christmas tree when, for a moment, all is calm and bright.

Yes, peace is a gift to you right in the middle of this day, whatever it might hold for you – in the midst of things that do not seem right and are not right at all. Peace comes as a gift to hold in both settled spaces and fleeting moments.                             Peace is an assurance in the midst of the storm.

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When Love came down in human flesh into a stable reeking of animals, into a long-waiting and hopeless world, the common shepherds were the first to know. The newborn King, they were told by the angel, would be in the feeding trough.

Then a huge number of angels filled the sky, praising God for the gift of Jesus, known in the book of Isaiah as the Prince of Peace. The multitude proclaimed “PEACE to all those touched by God’s favor.”

Songs of peace on earth, goodwill toward men flooded the heavens.

On this day before Christmas, how do you need to know peace’s flood? Where do you need peace to be born, like the newborn one in the manger?

Today, I will choose to find peace in giving thanks when stresses press. I will pray for God to carry the burdens of those suffering under grief, oppression, injustice, war, sickness and fear. I will light another candle. Read Christmas stories with my daughters. Gather around the table with those I love. Sing of hearts preparing him room, and hopes and fears of all years being met in him.

I will slow to feel the peaceful rush of breath moving into and out of my lungs. I will allow Christ’s peace to settle down deep.

And then, when some of the activity of the season has died down, I’ll snuggle up with my pen and journal, and then my laptop (though it’s a bit less snuggly), reflecting and musing and creating, allowing peace to be an overflow offering.

Isaiah 54:10 tells us that the Lord’s promise of peace will never be removed from us. This Christmas, might you know the truth of that gift: peace on earth, goodwill toward you.

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Ashley Larkin is a dear friend of Faith & Culture Writers. A member of the Advisory Board, Ashley will co-lead a workshop on blogging at the 2015 Mini-Retreat-Breathing Space Pre-Conference, April 10. She has served as the Agents and Editors Coordinator,  scribe, and mentor at past conferences. She can be found sharing her heart at her Draw Near blog: AshleyMLarkin.com

 

Overcoming Writers Block with the Rough Draft Mindset

Kari_Patterson_500By Kari Patterson

Hell hath no fury like a woman with writer’s block. Or so my husband says.

He has a right to say it, as he has endured my endless rants as I attempt to draft book chapters in the midst of life. Creativity is such a beast, yes? So untamable and infuriatingly elusive, yet intoxicating and life-giving once the muse mercifully makes her visit and you find words pouring out onto the page.

This process of writing, it can be absolute madness, especially when it “matters.” When the stakes are high, a contract is on the table, a deadline is looming, expectations soar and we find ourselves desperately hunting down that elusive creativity with such intensity we’re crazed. The more desperate we are for inspiration, the less likely we are to find it. The muse is shy.

There is, however, a gentle way to coax her out of hiding. It is a simple: the Rough Draft mindset.

This year’s Faith & Culture Writers Conference is Rough Draft: From Blank to Beautiful. I love this. It reminds me of the freedom-filled approach to writing and life that relaxes the pencil-grip and lets creativity come alive.

In her brilliant book, Writing on Both Sides of the Brain, Henriette Anne Klauser explains our trouble with writing stems from the fact that we are taught to write and edit simultaneously, rather than letting ourselves loose with words without worry for conventions, then going back later to edit and rework. She tells a fabulous story about a little boy who wants to write a story about a mouse and a motorcycle. The problem is, he doesn’t know how to spell motorcycle, so he writes a story about a mouse and a bike, but somehow when he’s done it wasn’t quite the same story he had in his heart.

Haven’t we all been there? We had something sacred inside that we so wanted to share, but we knew our limitations and feared failure, so we smash the story into something more manageable and lose the sacredness of it altogether. The boy was afraid of seeing his teacher’s red marks slashed across his paper, so he produced a lesser work, and wasn’t true to what was in his heart.

How much better would have been a rough draft about a mouse and a motorcycle!

Klauser also explained that the brilliant Russian pianist Franzk Liszt produced not only Tarantella, Don Juan Fantasy, and Liebestraum, but also more than 700 works, most of which were “uneven in quality, superficially composed or down-right dull.” The point? Even the greatest writers and composers spend the majority of their time writing less-than-stellar material. Can we allow ourselves to try something and do it imperfectly?

This is the Rough Draft mindset. It is the only way to go from blank to beautiful.

Here’s the thing: What’s true of writing is also true of life. An expectation comes such as, let’s say, Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year. The time when your kids’ dreams should all come true. Then company comes and the cameras are clicking and that blasted Facebook feed is just chock-full of everyone else’s perfect life and the pressure to “compose” the perfect holiday can choke the joy and inspiration straight out. We do well to remember, every day is only a rough draft.

The most sacred holiday moments are those when you just live. Not when you’re striving to craft the perfect moment. Not when everything’s orchestrated and choreographed. When my son and I were curled up on the couch last Friday night, just sitting in silence staring at the tree-lights, savoring the last few hours of him 7-years-old, I thought to myself, This is the highlight of my year.

The only way to discover the deep well of inspiration is to live. Not live looking for a tweet or a title or a clever catchy phrase, live looking for life. For beauty. And not only for the sake of writing it, but the sake of living it.

The ever-present danger we writers face is to skip straight to the telling without the living.

So this Christmas, let’s embrace the Rough Draft Mindset It is the way to overcome writer’s block and the way to overcome life block. Let’s relax our way into our imperfect holiday, because Christ is our perfection, once and for all. Let’s write and give and and live and love, scribbling beautiful fragments from the depths of our souls.

Merry Christmas.

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Kari is one of those people who has been to every single Faith & Culture Writers Conference since the first one in 2011.  She loved it and got involved. She’s been our communication coordinator, an emcee, and now she’s on our advisory board. This year she’s co-leading a workshop at our pre-conference mini-retreat. Kari is a writer and speaker who loves seeing sacred in the mundane, and writes about it at  karipatterson.com

Rough Draft – Our conference theme, our lives.

Cornelia Becker SeigneurBy Cornelia Becker Seigneur

I love the quote by Maxwell Perkins that goes like this: “Just get it down on paper, then we will see what to do with it. Perkins, as the editor of Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Thomas Wolfe, knew what he was talking about.

I just wish I would live by those words, as I should.

The blank page. Why does it haunt us?

Just begin.

The perfectionist in us perhaps, or the fear of being criticized or the fear of the painful memories we channel when we begin to write. But, the quote by Perkins reminds us to just begin, just get it on paper, onto the computer, into that journal.

That’s why we are really excited to announce the theme of the 2015 Faith & Culture Writers Conference:

Rough Draft: From Blank to Beautiful.

We want to gather friends of words and story and The Word together to give them permission to create. To not be afraid of the blank page. To know that it’s okay to know that our work is in progress. Because aren’t we all rough drafts, creations of God whom He’s working on?

Every year as we think through, pray over, and dream about the theme for the Faith & Culture Writers Conference, we come up with five words that represent our vision for the year. This year, to go along with the Rough Draft theme, we wanted to have those five words reflect the nature of the creative process. Those five words this year are:

Decide, Dare, Prepare, Persist, Release.

Follow these 5 words, and you will find your creativity expand and your writing career moving forward.

Decide. We need to decide we are writers, dreamers, artists, activists, authors, entrepreneurs, believers. It starts with a yes. An, “I can do this, I will do this, I start today.” It is a simple yes, packed in deep dreams and beliefs and that you-know-you-are-called vision. Don’t wait for someone else to give you permission, to tell you you are good enough. You do not need their permission. God has already given you permission. He has shaped you and molded you and made you into a creative being. He is a creative God. His first words, “In the beginning, God created.” Decide. Begin.

Dare. To write that first word. That first story. That first blog post. That first article. That first book proposal. That hundredth book proposal. Let’s face it, It takes courage to get our words and story out there. It takes guts. People may not like our work, they may not appreciate our story, they may think we are not good enough. That’s okay. Do it anyway. It’s your calling.

Prepare. Yes, you do need to decide that you are a writer with something to contribute, and you then need to dare to get your art out there, to have courage. But then, you need to find a way, get some advice, seek out the expertise of others, learn how to write moving blog posts. As a writers’ conference, we want to help you prepare for that launch of your words, your art, your story, your creativity.

Persist. Okay, you’ve decided to begin, you’ve said yes to the dare, and you’ve begun to prepare for what that means. Perhaps, it’s twice a week blog posts, meeting with a friend, seeking out an editor, attending a writers conference. But, then truth be told, it takes persistence. It takes sticking with it! There really are no one–book wonders or one-blog-post-goes-viral-and-you-are-famous wonders, or one-anything-wonders. Most of those authors who “make it” have been writing for years. When no one was noticing. Until one day, they got noticed.

Release. It’s time. You’ve decided to get your words out there, you’ve dared to be creative, you’ve prepared and you’ve stuck with it. Now, let it go. That’s it. Let people read it, and keep getting it out there, and leave the results to God. If one or a million or just you are changed by your words, your story, your art, it was worth it.

Cornelia is a freelance journalist and the mother of five children and finds her pen often turning to the chaos and craziness and beauty in her family life. She is the Founding Director for the Faith & Culture Writer’s Conference, and blogs at www.corneliaseigneur.com.

2015 Faith & Culture Writers Conference dates and location announced!

The date and location of the 2015 Faith & Culture Writers Conference have been announced!

On Friday-Saturday, April 10-11, 2015 we will hold our Fourth Annual Faith & Culture Writers Conference at Warner Pacific College in Portland, Oregon. warner-pacific-logo

Warner Pacific College reached out to our founding conference director, Cornelia Becker Seigneur, who met with Warner’s Writer in Residence Tony Kriz and FCWC executive admin Bethany Jackson along with key Warner folks to discuss details. We are excited to partner with this wonderful college.                            WORDS logo 2011                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   One thing that Luke Goble from Warner said is that Warner wants to be more involved in terms of the planning and presence of the event on their campus. I love this!  fcwc 2015 ANNOUNCED 10452317_320998731399256_1619234692828051602_n More details to follow. 2015 Faith & Culture Writers Conference Date and Location announced!