My writing problems

I didn’t always want to be an author. How that desire started was with art. I wanted to draw and make beautiful things. I drew horses, ships, cars, tracks, and people. I have three composition books of scratches and scribbles as a child.

I outgrew that desire when I realized that most of my friends who didn’t want to be artists were far better, and I don’t mean that in some humble way. My people looked more like walls. Where as my friends people looked like animated characters on Cartoon Network.

The slow decline in wanting to be an artist began in third grade and die in seventh or eighth grade. By that time, my walls were a little more like people, but my friends drawings were looking like actual people. It was around this time I met a friend who was really good at drawing. He was far superior to most of the people I knew, and he was making comic books. I was reading Captain Underpants at the time, itching to make my own comics.

So I did. I created a five or six comic books series on Super Saturn.  My family loves pulling them out every few years, reading them, and crying out of laughter

I gave up making comics. I knew I was bad. However, I realized that I really liked making stories. As I reflected on this when I was in ninth grade, I saw that really my desire as a kid to draw was to make the stories I saw on TV. I wanted to simply draw the stories. Which is why I naturally wanted to make comic books. I quit drawing because I knew I was horrible. It became evident. But I knew that I really didn’t want to quit because drawing represented to me story making.

This progression of thought happened as I helped most of my friends in high school with their comic books. I didn’t draw anything. But I helped come up with much of the characters, traits, story, plot and villains. I don’t know how I came to be in such a role of aiding others in creating their stories, but I was. I’d get calls after school. We’d sit in the libraries and brainstorm. It was fun. I enjoyed this the most.

At this point, I had written a few short stories because classes made me do this, but I wasn’t much of a reader. I didn’t like reading. It took too long. I was a really lazy kid. But in high school I was forced to read books outside of class. This is what helped me leap from a passion of creating stories to a knowledge that I could make a living doing that. I read books like the Red Wall series, which I have a difficult time reading now, but back then I was captivated. I read more and more. And soon, it became a mission in my life to be an author.

There was only one problem. I didn’t know where to start. So I began reading books on writing. I read all sorts of books by well known authors. I read blogs, articles, author interviews, and more fiction. The one thing I didn’t do was write.

With that as an introduction, here’s my point: My problem with writing isn’t that I get writers block (never had it), or that I run out of ideas (they explode out of my mind in every direction). My problem is that I often have to battle the sinful devil of laziness. When I say “sinful devil” I don’t mean that I am possessed by a demon or that some demonic force is making me lazy. I merely mean, as a metaphor, to represent my sinful behavior of laziness.

For twelve years I wanted to be an author. Out of those twelve years I wrote mostly journals of how I wanted to be a writer. I also read fan fiction and tried to write some to practice. Ultimately, however, I wrote very little. Especially when I compare this last year to the past twelve.

This last year I have written well over a few hundred thousand words. The previous twelve, perhaps I wrote fifty thousand. Demonstrating that I was a sluggard. I wanted to have done the work but not do the work. And I thank God that He has been faithful in changing me and making me less of a lazy man.

“Hi, my name is Truth Needham, and I am a lazyholic.” I say as I stand up. Everyone joins in together, “Hi Truth.” The lights are shining on me, blinding me. I block some of the rays by throwing my left arm up over my head.

If you have a goal, as an American, then you need to stop being lazy. Stop lying to yourself pretending you have excuses. Your problem is that you don’t want to write.

I say this as someone who knows. I say this as someone who has also read and listened to too many authors who say they encounter more wannabe writers who don’t write. It’s true. Guilty as charged.

That my problem with writing. I just don’t want to.

Well, actually, I didn’t want to. But I thank God that all that has changed. Sin is sin. It can be defeated because the work of Christ on the cross. And when Jesus showed me where my first areas of lazy disobedience were, and I corrected those, it has become easier and easier to destroy the laziness in other areas of my life.

Hi, my name is Truth Needham, and Christ has set me free from sin. He also has enslaved me to Himself. And I have never been more free than now.

About TruthN

Husband. Father of one. Writer of fiction. Massage Therapist. Video Game, Comic Book, Fiction, and Non-Fiction enjoy'r. Reader of Theology. You may find him reading the Bible. View all posts by TruthN

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