Why write?
Well, yes. Why write? All that time writing, editing, proofreading, proofreading again and again … After all, I could be baking delicious cakes for the family to enjoy or digging weeds from our overgrown back garden to allow the lettuces to emerge. Or else – sigh – tidying my study. I can see only a small part of my lovely wooden desk now. If I were earning a fortune with my writing, it might be different. But I no longer am. I earned a reasonable amount at one stage but I seem to have outgrown that stage. Can I justify this self-indulgent use of my time? Admittedly I sometimes feel I have something Really Worth Saying, something God-birthed. But anyone else could write it, couldn’t they? My memory prods me. Didn’t God say writing was one of my talents? The bible has a lot to say about talents; they are for use, not burial. So yet again I replay the scene. Gods’ view of my talents Back in early 1980, I was sharing a flat with a friend in Bardon in Brisbane. Our