Our Hearts Keep Beating--And I Keep Writing

Today I resumed writing, preparing a dusty manuscript once again to be sent out to risk rejection. In the process, I've been reading a lot...thinking...brainstorming...switching on old war movies and studying the actor's faces. And it occurs to me, there's one thing that always grips me about human beings: their ability to keep living even when their worlds have fallen apart.

Over the ages, men and women have seen their worlds collide with the frightening possibilities of war and violence. Things outside their control wrench their worlds from their careful grasp and crush it into the midst of something greater, more powerful, much more frightening than they ever could have imagined. Each generation, all of them from the start of time--all those countless men and woman and children--have felt what it must feel like to have a heart that continues beating even in the middle of chaos. And they each have a story, a past, and a hope for their future. They all have a reason to grit their teeth and jump into the fight, kicking and screaming, biting and clawing to free what remains of the world they had built. Because hope for something beautiful: love and warmth, family and friends, love and safety, a God and eternity...spars them on.

And this is what my mind is flooded with as I hash through each paragraph, changing tenses, fixing typos, adding emotion where it was lacking before. I place my fingertips on the keys, breathe deep, and feel the pulse of time and mystery beat to life. As silly as it may sound...

And the frustration of failing, the hurt of rejection, the possibility of success, is worth it.

I'm almost certain of it.


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