I wrote this very sentence (replace “speaker with “writer” and put it in the present tense) in my journal three weeks before my brother died.
I remember talking to Justin about the difficulty of being a Christian writer because, I said, for the Christian, everything is so bright and happy. I wanted to write about love but I hadn’t ever lost a love. I wanted to write about truth but I’d never been fully immersed in lies. I wanted to tell a story but I didn’t have a conflict.
At 21, I’d decided the Christian’s world couldn’t be dark and resigned myself to writing devotional thoughts on joy and children’s books about my dog.
I’m not yet completely sure I have what it takes to be a writer, but, nine years and too many tragedies later, I do have something to write about.