 I hesitated writing this post. I mean, why add more words to a topic that seems to be bouncing around the internet like a high speed pinball. Opinions, enthusiasm, suspicion, outrage. It’s all there.
So why add my thoughts to the noise? Well, I knew I needed to wrestle out my position on AI - as an author, but also as a person. I also knew that I'm probably not the only one. So I share my thoughts here. My AI WIP (wrestlings-in-progress)...
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 The following is a reflection I wrote after visiting the Wade Center, at Wheaton College while I was there for the Write To Publish conference.
We left our bags in a side room and filed into the small museum, following the directions of our guide. Excitement rippled. "Is that the Wardrobe?!" and "Oh look, it’s Lewis’ desk!" But I stood silent. My eyes had found a wall, decorated with a display of covers and author signatures: Lewis, Tolkein, Chesterton, Sawyer, MacDonald. And all of a sudden, I felt like crying.  Failure is Peter. Leaning over the edge of the boat; squinting at the shadow.
No. The man… The Lord! It's Jesus, walking towards the boat. Walking on the water as if it was solid ground. His clothes flapping in the evening breeze. ‘Lord, if it’s really you, tell me to come to you!’ And Peter leans. His faith is new. It’s untested. High and heady in this adventure of following Jesus, who could be the Christ. And what if he is? That would change everything. Absolutely every- ‘Come!’  I have a bucket of broken things.
It isn’t full, there is still a lot of life yet, but the bucket is heavy anyway. I stare at it. Push it away with my foot and glare at it. Of course it doesn’t budge. It’s mine. Full of all the broken things my life has collected: broken dreams, broken hearts, broken hopes, broken starts. I stare at it a little longer, knowing its weight without even picking it up. Then I lean over, wrap my fists around the metal handle and drag it to Jesus. I’m tired of carrying this bucket alone.  This is a post for writers. It is about our attempts to build an author platform and the challenge to stay small. Or at least, that's what I thought it was going to be about when I first started...
Attempt #7: I've written this post six times already, and each time I've sighed, deleted and stared again at the blank page. It would be easy to blame it on writer's block. But I don't think that's it. It's more like a stubborn inability to get into words what has been buzzing around in my brain. If you've been following my journey this year, you'll know it has involved a lot of slowing down. Just before the middle of the year, I took a break from social media and the impact of that decision continues to reverberate through my writing life. It's as if I've been having a staring competition with my author platform and my platform isn't winning... |
The Penny DropsIn high school I used to write what I'd call 'thinks' - little bits of writing about whatever topic or issue I was mulling over at the time. I still write these little pieces. Categories
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