Real Writing

Just as I was reading this post over at Michael’s site, I was reminded of what I was doing last night. John Franklin was one of my most beloved teachers when I attended a small Bible college in the mid-1980s. He taught philosophy and has always one of the most well-read men I’ve known. He’s also a huge supporter of the arts. Recently, we’ve been talking about some web design work I might be able to do for the non-profit arts group he now heads up. So, he invited Brooke and I to he and his wife’s home on Saturday. They were hosting a monthly meeting of a group for Christian artists as well as inviting some other people to hear a storytelling group. This group, the Great Wooden Trio, are actually four guys, three of whom play songs and one who tells stories. They sort of play off each other and it made for a very entertaining evening. We even found some time to discuss what it is about storytelling that makes it so universal. Along with Michael’s entry, it got me thinking about writing again. Not the blog blather of the past few months, but real writing, the sort I haven’t done for far too long. I’m ashamed. And I’m hoping to change that. I love the immediacy of posting with Blogger, but I also want to craft something once in a while. Credit the Eric Gill biography, too, I suppose. I just want to make something that isn’t completely disposable. So bear with me, if I get all ponderous occasionally. It looks like Michael is going through this as well. Maybe you’ll find something good in the midst of the rubble. Something that will connect to your own story. And that would make me happy.