Author’s Note: It’s chemo day here. So instead of being wholly original I’m going to reprint something that was initially a comment at another blog. I added and subtracted, but the starter for the loaf is there.
I read a book called The Selkie’s Spell on Saturday. It was in some superficial ways very much like my Welsh book, and I thought to myself as we sat over our plates of Scotch Eggs that if all I do is reinvent the wheel then why do I keep bleeding into the qwerty anyway? I was saying all this aloud to my other pair of ears and just as he was telling me encouraging things our waitress came through the kitchen door and set two plates down in front of the people at another table.
And then it hit me…
Just in this country alone there are 300 million people, and hopefully 90% of them ate one meal yesterday. Even if only half ate a meal that’s 150 million.
If God has called you to write–wherever God has called you to write–you are preparing a meal meant for someone. Someone who has eaten before and will eat again but will at least once need to taste your food.
I’m done arguing against the prejudices about where the book is published. I want to lift up the books that are finished, are published wherever they are published and say “God, you saw to it that this meal was prepared. Now I trust you to see to it that the people who are hungry for it can find it and enjoy.”
Literacy is magic both profound and ordinary. It’s one of God’s most generous gifts to humanity and allows us to momentarily transcend the bounds of mortality and place by letting us travel inside the heads of others to times and spaces otherwise barred. For anyone to take the time to write and to finish a story is a token of honour in praise of that gift.