The Writer's Prayer

Last night I was invited to our local library to host a conversation around the collection of quotations about writing that is now finally published. It's not been without its trials. Pulling 6,000 quotations together around twenty questions wasn't just time consuming. It was exasperating. Even though both my  husband and I proofed it--several times--errors crept in like little gnomes playing tricks on our eyes. I used to caution authors I worked with to steel themselves because no book is perfect. What made me think my books would be any different? But discovering them in front of strangers undresses you. There you are. Naked.

But as the evening unfolded and we read together in round-robin fashion bits from the book, it didn't matter. The writers and "wanna be writers" who gathered in the library's cozy sitting room in front of the fireplace asked good questions, shared their own writing stories and seemed to genuinely enjoy each other as we read, in turn, some of the "wise, whimsical and witty" comments the pros and I had assembled.

The publisher had asked me, as this particular book process began, to write what he wanted to call "The Writer's Prayer." It seemed like a rather strange request given the secular nature of this particular publisher, but I complied. However, I hadn't read the prayer out loud until last night. Reading something you've written in front of others is a humbling, courageous and tricky task. But then, so is putting it out in published form or pixels. Your words always pull you into spaces you can't anticipate.

So, as our closing time drew near I said I'd like to read the prayer which is at the back of the book. I remembered that in The Green Devotional I talked about prayer being as Frederick Buechner once pointed out, like shooting shafts into the dark. In that book, I said, "I'm not sure where prayer-shafts land; nor do I care. Prayer's not about aiming right or hitting the mark. It's not about being helpful or impressing anyone. Nor, I remind myself, is prayer about being in control...Prayer acts as a thought-anchor, first revolving around me and my needs, then moving on to others."

I have posted this thought-anchor prayer elsewhere on this site, but here it is without the need for another click: prayer-shafts we shot together last night out into the dark.

The Writer’s Prayer

 

You know my passion. I’m a word-weaver, a thought-shaper. I craft words that become vibrations and set loose powerful ideas.

 

Help me to choose words wisely and aim them with care. May they find their mark. And remind me, because I’m prone to forgetfulness, that I’m only borrowing these words for a little while. They’re really yours—for "in the beginning, was The Word." 

 

I need your help to become the very best crafter I can be, because thought shifting is a big responsibility. It’s hard, and downright scary. What if someone who reads my words thinks they’re stupid or silly or simple? Trite or contrite. Listless or clichéd. Too dense. Or just plain boring! Or, worse, what if someone uses my powerful words to destroy or cause pain? May my words cushion life, never debase, harm, or kill.

 

Help me find the discipline to meet deadlines, the resilience to face rejection, and the endurance to start all over again.

 

Give me the patience and insight to hone and rewrite until all the words dance and sparkle. And all sound true. Then grant me the courage to share them; for without a reader, a listener or a viewer, they form hollow shapes that hold no song.

 

As paper and pixels carry my words around the world, I pray some editor will find them timely and worthy and send me a check. It won’t always be a big check, but payment of any kind—including bartering—shows that someone values my crafting. Then I will write more words, and more words after that. Some will take poetic form; others will become stories, essays, songs, articles, memoirs, scripts, marketing pieces. Some quieter words will find their way into my journals, emails, letters, blogs, and I vow to treat them all with the same reverence.

 

And, finally, I ask that someone, somewhere, will read my words and smile and say, “This is really good! I want to keep this and read it again. I wonder what else this person has written.”

 

Then I’ll know I’m truly a writer. My words have made a difference in someone’s life, for however long—a few seconds or as long as it takes to change the course of the stars.

 

Thank you. Stay close to my keyboard, Great Word-Smith.

Amen. May it be so.

 

© Karen Speerstra, 2009