It is not a dark and stormy night. Swords of sunshine pierce the blinds, creating diamonds of the swirling dust and reminding me of housework undone.
Outside car horns and police sirens create a cacophony as I sit at my computer desperately trying to write. Please Lord, I’m trying to finish this scene—no distractions.
I’m writing about farm-life in the 1800s, trying to visualize the Indiana countryside, red barns filled with straw and hay, chickens, livestock, babbling streams and rivers, and . . .
Goodbye yellow brick road
Where the dogs of society howl
You can’t plant me in your penthouse
I’m going back to my plow
Elton John’s song wafts from a neighboring apartment, his voice heartily joined by the residents’. Perhaps when the song ends they’ll walk to the beach? But that hope is dashed when the next one begins.
God helps me focus and my story takes an excursion through the history of our country.
Where do words come from?
I believe God gives me the idea, the scenes, and the desire to write—but I must be faithful to see the process through, in spite of distractions.
Writing is not easy in any environment, but God gives us the will to complete the work He’s given—regardless of distractions.
Picture yourself in a boat on a river
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies
Here we go again, Lord.
Judith McCormack is a graduate of the Apprentice, Journeyman and Craftsman courses. She is a legal assistant in Century City, and lives in Venice Beach, California. Judith’s focus is presently on her novel about the Underground Railroad, and bringing a different meaning to a significant time in the history of our country.
Image credit: takayukiworld / 123RF Stock Photo