- C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
Back when I was a newspaper reporter, circa 1999, I used to get paid to write. It was actually a pretty sweet gig, if you could get past the paltry paycheck.
My day-to-day life consisted of going into the office, reading the previous day’s paper, following up on some leads, and then heading out to beat the bushes to get a news story. Usually by mid-to-late afternoon I was back in the newsroom hammering out copy. I thoroughly enjoyed that job, but could not raise a family on what amounted to a fast food manager’s paycheck.
I am a bit nostalgic today because I met with a friend last night who's in the process of trying to write a book. He asked me if I still write, and I had to say, well, no. Heck, I don’t even blog that much anymore.
In the past few years my writing has given way to my photography, and my managerial responsibilities at my chosen career (which actually does incorporate a certain amount of writing and photography). Professionally, I don’t doubt where I am right now. I’m satisfied, my bills are paid, and God has confirmed my present calling in distinct ways. I do not suffer from ennui — not at all.
While I have never considered myself to be a good writer, I have always felt a certain juice when writing. I have always felt, somehow, some sort of runner’s high when I discipline myself to sit down and forge a few words. I like that feeling.
My meeting last night got me thinking. Thinking about a lot of things: Work. Business. Photography. Calling. Jesus. Writing. Ideas. Yes … ideas!
Perhaps nothing is as inspiring a God-given idea.