Writing and me

Writing has changed me. It’s tapped into the inner part of my soul that used to be frustrated with layers of memories, ideas and dreams longing to become stories and characters painted with words.

When I hear an “oldie” on the radio, I immediately picture words. “It was the summer of ’77…” Characters spring to life in my mind’s eyes and they have names and voices. Sometimes, I jot the image down, other times, I store it away in the library of my heart and maybe one day, I’ll pull it down, dust it off and write about it.

I love storing ideas. It’s like a being in an internal bookstore. Ever walk into the library or the bookstore and go, “”Mmmm.” It’s a literary bakery. I love the smell, the site, the touch of books. Being around them makes me want to write, write, write. So, my internal books and ideas serve the same inspiration. I realize I’m going to have one actual written story for every 100 ideas, but I love the inspiration.

The summer of ’85, my sorority big sister, Tish, and I went to see “Saint Elmo’s Fire.” The movie impacted me deeply because the characters were at the exact same stage in life as I – graduating college and facing the real world. Sitting there with Tish, I never wanted to lose that feeling of comraderie, of friendship, of common bond that we shared in our Ohio State, Phi Mu experience.

Emotion welled up from deep down for Suzanne, Machelle, Maureen, Connie, Angie, Lori, Sarah and all the other sisters that made my university experience about life and love as much as it was about academics and degrees.

Leaving the theater that night with Tish, I wanted desperately to put that emotion down on paper. I wanted to tell our story. I wanted to remember what I felt in that moment, wanted to hang on to what those years deposited in my heart. Yet I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that the memories and feelings would fade with time and distance.

“Let’s Hear It For the Boy,” by Denise Williams from the movie “Footloose” invariably invoked a strong emotional memory for years. Picture a beautiful spring day on campus, the windows of the Phi Mu house wide open and Darian blasting that song from her room so loud it filled 15th Avenue.

Until I started writing, those stored books, partial books, frustrated me. Now, they inspire me. Empower me even. And maybe one day, I”ll write about the girls of 93 E. 15th Avenue.

God’s timing in my writing is perfect! I couldn’t have started writing after college for a lot of reasons, the least of which I needed more of Him and less of me. Besides the power of memories, I want and need the power of the Holy Spirit. I take the gift that He’s given me, give it back to Him, asking for His grace and anointing. Being a writer with the indwelling Spirit of God excites me more than anything. Not because it’s about me and what I can do, but because it’s about Him, His GREATNESS. He’s full of love and mercy!!

Writing has changed me.