What Are the Words?

What are the words?

They won't seem to come.

All I can think of is ho-hum-drum.

I wish I could pen them but they run away.

What are the words that I could say today?

Okay, it's rather silly but you get the point. All of us get writer's block from time to time or we wish that we did so we didn't write something that ridiculous. Hey! Don't knock it. Dr. Seuss made a living from writing the likes of such nonsense!

My point? Christians and non-christian writers alike suffer from this ailment. How do you overcome this as a writer? Usually if I am unable to write, it is because I'm either too tired or too busy and can't slow down enough to formulate the words.

If that is the case, I take a break and do something fun (though I have to admit to being a little deficient in the fun-activity-finding category). After a brief enjoyable retreat I come back--relaxed enough to write.

If it is because I am too tired, then heaven help us! I am going to write something goofy. Some of my best writing has come when I had writer's block and just wrote whatever crazy thing came to mind. Other times, the product made a flight across the desk into the circular file.

Sometimes, spending a little extra time in prayer helps me bring to mind a spiritual truth or a new direction for my writing. I always ask the Lord to help me to write for Him. I figure that if I've done that and still have nothing to say, then I might be better off saying nothing at all.

Let's here some of your ideas. How do you cure writer's block?

Wield Your Words Wisely

Words are powerful. I say that often because I believe it. Christian writers have an even greater responsibility to wield their word power and WORD power wisely.

Ecclesiastes 12:10-12 says, "The Teacher searched to find just the right words and what he wrote was upright and true. The words of the wise are like goads, their collected sayings like firmly embedded nails--given by one Shepherd. Be warned, my son of anything in addition to them. Of making many books there is no end and much study wearies the body."

Here, Solomon was not trying to say that it is a waste of time to write or study. If you read the passage, you will see that the focus is on making sure that your words and actions are guided by the Lord and that they are true to the Word.

Writers are a dime a dozen these days. Godly and good writers are not as plenteous. Mankind has a great deal to say-some of which is pure babble and of others, pure wisdom. Solomon reminds us that "... God will bring every deed into judgement, including every hidden thing whether it is good or evil."

I saw this quote on a fellow writer's blog. TIMES ARE BAD. CHILDREN NO LONGER OBEY THEIR PARENTS AND EVERYONE IS WRITING A BOOK. ~ Cicero, 53 B.C.E. (Written so long ago but so apropos).

Lest you run away discouraged, listen to this: Isaiah 50:4, "The Sovereign Lord has given me an instructed tongue, to know the word that sustains the weary. He wakens me morning by morning, wakens my ear to listen like one being taught..." These words are Messianic prophecy but I think that they can encourage us as well to know that we who have the mind of Christ can be instructed of the Lord in what to write so that we may give sustenance to the weary, rejoice with those who rejoice, and teach truth and wisdom to the simple.

Not everything we write as Christians is inspirational or devotional. Some is entertainment, amusement, or catharsis. In all of this, God can use our words to touch the heart of another and speak His truth--yes, even through humor. All of these types of writing have a place in the world. The Christian writer is unique in that he or she can use any of them to weave in a mesh of truth which nails the truth deep in a reader's heart.

Sometimes, we get discouraged from a professional standpoint. The writing business boils down to sales at times. Sales are "feast or famine". In the dry times, we wonder if writing these words is really worth all the effort. I'm here to say to myself and others that "Yes! It will be worth it all when we see God using our words, even the words that we give out for free on our blogs and newsletters. None of it is a waste of time.

I pray that you and I will remember that we are not the ones holding the power of our words. If we exercise ourselves in skillful practice and open our ears to the guidance of God, He will make them like arrows carrying the message that our readers need to hear.

NOTE to our readers: I am not saying that we are as inspired as the Holy Bible; what I am saying is that God can speak to and through us as Christians who love to wield our words and His Words. That is what makes us inspirational writers.

A prayer for our readers:

Give us wisdom.

Unveil our eyes.

I nspire our ideas.

D irect our steps.

E ncourage us.

O verpower our fears.

U nwrap our dreams and

R epackage them how You desire.

W hen we're weary

O nly in You can we...

R enew our strength and

D aily breathe new life.

So let my words be wise.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

Dr. Wordwielder is Weary

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Dr. Wordwielder here with your weekly word examination. I shan't be long. I'm a mite bit weary this evening as I've made several trips out in the rain and doing so depletes this old chap of any gumption he might have thought in his possession.

First, I purposed to go to the local library for their annual used book sale in a quest for a few, desired, old faithful books, some of which have been on my wish list for quite some time now, perhaps ten years. I've handled the modern copies but they do not compare to the quality striven for by every business worth it's salt in yesteryear. It was imperative that I not be late for this very important date with alibris, so I skipped breakfast and gobbled down a light nosh of pickled eggs followed by a slice of brown bread. I advanced to my car in hopes that the motorway would not be too cramped. Of course, you know that the weather in Florida is about as fickle as a mood ring and one must prepare for the best and worst to come. I tossed a brolly in the boot even though it was bright and warm from the golden sun. Walking away, I glanced in the rear view as I approached the driver's side. I noted a few bread crumbs in my mustache so I reached up to brush them away, only to accidentally nudge my bi-focals. They fell off my face but I quickly scooped the cap off my woolen head and caught them. To my great surprise, the neighborhood children who were waiting on the arrival of the school bus, must have believed that I was a magician performing a trick, as they giggled and clapped (after a gasp or two). I have to admit, it was a pretty brilliant chance for me to cover up what might have been a fateful accident. I turned and gave a slight bow and then climbed into the vehicle.

As I motored toward the library sale, little droplets of water began to drip onto my windscreen and form into little pools. I turned on my wipers and gave way to the yellow cab that seemed to be out of place in this area and didn't he know it? Perhaps he was from New York or something. He almost ran me off the road, but I was able to right myself and keep on track until I reached the slip road to the adorable village that's name includes the title for Mountain but is really a hill with a few slight curves. At any rate, the precipitation had weakened and I was not too disappointed as I had no way of reaching my protection that was lying by itself in the rear of the car.

The library was as I had hoped it would be, quiet as a museum at night (although I heard someone wrote a movie about strange happenings in one museum). The early bird catches the worm, you know. I stood at the door, awaiting the librarian who came a moment later with the keys. I had not arrived a minute too soon. As we entered the building, cars were motoring up into the lot like ants on honey at a picnic. I mustn't blame them. There were a grand amount of books available. I gazed on a copy of "The Royal Path of Life" by Thomas Haines and company. It was a giant volume containing pages of velum, black and white drawings and advice written in a grandfatherly tone, yielding wisdom as well as debating the issues of contemporary society. I longed to purchase it but pondered the thought of carrying the monstrosity along with me as I browsed the other tables.

The aroma of musty paper wafted o'er the room and to me it was the scent of heaven unleashed. I picked up a copy of John Greenleaf Whittier's poetry, a fine book with an embossed red rose on the front. It contained an autograph on the title page and was addressed to a colleague of his. I ran my fingers across the edges and marveled at how the grainy cover could suddenly feel so smooth over the center of it, as if ribbon with a rose underneath, had been woven in like fabric across the cover. I placed the anthology back down on the table and picked up a plain book that looked like it had been wrapped in a brown paper bag, only it felt more like burlap. It was a copy of Riverside Literature Series Numbers 13 and 14, the Song of Hiawatha, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Delighted, I opened the book and saw that it was a true find for only $10.00. I snatched it up quickly and proceeded to the cashier, checked out and left. It had always fascinated me to read stories of the Natives in early America and Longfellow was no slouch in the telling of it.

Since the hour is late and since Ms. BeckyJoie has requested that I weigh in on the matter of good literature, I shall forgo the lengthy examination and post but one or two questions. Prior to that, I shall share with you a portion of the book I was able to acquire. I do hope that you will grant a weary old man some forgiveness for an atypical post this eve. This is only an excerpt of the poem titled, "Hiawatha's Friends" in "The Song of Hiawatha". I am posting it in response to Ms. JoJo Tabares weblog article about friendship and what constitutes such. Don't you think that Longfellow does an excellent job of describing Hiawatha's feelings toward friends?

Two good friends had Hiawatha,
Singled out from all the others,
Bound to him in closest union,
And to whom he gave the right hand
Of his heart, in joy and sorrow;
Chibiabos, the musician,
And the very strong man, Kwasind.
Straight between them ran the pathway,
Never grew the grass upon it;
Singing birds, that utter falsehoods,
Story-tellers, mischief-makers,
Found no eager ear to listen,
Could not breed ill-will between them,
For they kept each other's counsel,
Spake with naked hearts together,
Pondering much and much contriving
How the tribes of men might prosper.
Most beloved by Hiawatha
Was the gentle Chibiabos,
He the best of all musicians,
He the sweetest of all singers.
Beautiful and childlike was he,
Brave as man is, soft as woman,
Pliant as a wand of willow,
Stately as a deer with antlers.
When he sang, the village listened;
All the warriors gathered round him,
All the women came to hear him;
Now he stirred their souls to passion,
Now he melted them to pity.
From the hollow reeds he fashioned
Flutes so musical and mellow,
That the brook, the Sebowisha,
Ceased to murmur in the woodland,
That the wood-birds ceased from singing,
And the squirrel, Adjidaumo,
Ceased his chatter in the oak-tree,
And the rabbit, the Wabasso,
Sat upright to look and listen.
Yes, the brook, the Sebowisha,
Pausing, said, "O Chibiabos,
Teach my waves to flow in music,
Softly as your words in singing!"
Yes, the bluebird, the Owaissa,
Envious, said, "O Chibiabos,
Teach me tones as wild and wayward,
Teach me songs as full of frenzy!"
Yes, the robin, the Opechee,
Joyous, said, "O Chibiabos,
Teach me tones as sweet and tender,
Teach me songs as full of gladness!"
And the whippoorwill, Wawonaissa,
Sobbing, said, "O Chibiabos,
Teach me tones as melancholy,
Teach me songs as full of sadness!"
All the many sounds of nature
Borrowed sweetness from his singing;
All the hearts of men were softened
By the pathos of his music;
For he sang of peace and freedom,
Sang of beauty, love, and longing;
Sang of death, and life undying
In the Islands of the Blessed,
In the kingdom of Ponemah,
In the land of the Hereafter.

The vivid language and grammar of this piece is inspiring in a literary and philosophical sense. I simply adore Longfellow's use of poetic devices. For example,
his use of similes and metaphors such as "pliant as a wand of willows", "stately as a deer with antlers" and "spoke with naked hearts together" show his astute knowledge of how to appeal to the interest and intellect of his readers. What eloquent words he uses that we might understand and feel what Hiawatha, the main character feels toward his friends. What magnificent usage of the colour and imagery that evoke in us a sense of our presence in the story. I noticed also that the gentleman used a subtle amount of alliteration. For instance, "teach me tones wild and wayward", "eager ear" and the like. He does employ a set rhythm which engraves the words and details upon the mind of the reader. Not many folks are skilled at the art of using multiple, hyphenated words so close together but Longfellow used them like they were pieces of a song-of course they are-the Song of Hiawatha. "Singing birds, that utter falsehoods, Story-tellers,mischief-makers, Found no eager ear to listen, Could not breed ill-will between them."

Although I am merely skimming the surface, the literary content of Longfellow's poetry is an example from which a good poet and writer can learn much about entertaining the reader and using quality grammatical tools. But I shall have to lecture more at another hour.

The hour is late and I'm rambling as I suppose stodgy old people do. I shan't have another cup of coffee as I need to arise early tomorrow for another round of lectures at the university. So I shall leave you with an abbreviated version of my weekly examination.

Don't forget to post your responses and return again in a day or so for the answers.

Two Questions this week.


1. Hectic or Helpful Homonyms. Which homonym is correct? Two weeks prior to today, I, Dr. William Wordwielder did visit the local book (sellers or cellars).

2. Ideal or Idiotic Idioms. If you make companionship with a fool, you might also be taken for one because as everybody knows, (a. You must never count your chickens before they hatch OR b. Birds of a feather flock together.)

By the way, I neglected to inform you about the results of my audition last Wednesday evening for the church worship ensemble. It appears that my style of vocal expression is not compatible with the music selections used by the choral director for the ensemble but the director was pleased with my audition so that he added an extra chair in the choir itself and placed me in the back to assist the bass and baritone sections as I possess a three octave range and there was no need for another tenor. Thank you all for your interest in my endeavor. I recently heard about another option where I might be able to sing with a collage of singers. For now, I shall retire and wish you all a good night's rest, though as I said it is late and you shall probably read my ramblings on the morrow. Good night. Don't forget to comment. Parting is such sweet, nay, bittersweet sorrow.

Dr. Wordwielder Auditions

Good evening, fine ladies and gentlemen. It is my extreme pleasure to greet you with a story of a fine audition of which I was a participant. Having taken leading Shakespearean roles on stage on occasion as well as having been on tour in a speaking circuit, I only felt it fitting that I once again take to the platform when I heard the musical director of a local church calling for potential participants for the church worship team. I've never done such a thing before but being a proper gentleman desirous of aiding my fellow man, the idea had begun to take root in my heart.

Why, a distinguished professor such as myself, must surely lend assistance to a young chap in his attempts to lead a fledgling flock into green pastures of refined music. At the very least, I wished to influence the clarity of annunciation as I have been noticing the lack thereof in music of a popular persuasion on the Christian radio networks and churches across the country (this chap's choir being much improved over the general public, but one can always improve one's craft, mind you.) It has been my opinion that the quality of music and the quantity of musical training has been gradually degrading itself here over the years since I first arrived here from England. Musicians and vocalists in this day and age do not proceed through the necessary educational rigors that musicians once endured for the quality of their craft. At times, it seems that any old chump might produce a recording and succeed at entering a competition such as the scandalous show on American Televisions which might make an idol out of an ignoramus. But alas, I am over-ruled by the general populace who passes over a musical genius to award recording contracts to a novice. But then again, what do I know? I'm merely a purveyor of prose with an acute aspiration for excellence in all functions of speech, whether they be spoken, musical or written.

A friend of Ms. BeckyJoie's is airing a chat show tomorrow upon the exact topic and desires that you join her and her debonair listeners to discuss the importance of communicating through the language of music. I do believe that our hostess has placed an advert on the side of her blog page so that we might click on it to arrive at the chat show destiny.

But first, I must say that I hope the readers will keep an astute mind about such a matter since so much sensitivity surely surrounds this volatile subject. For example, my very presence at the afore-mentioned audition was greeted with a cold shoulder and a bit of bossiness by the younger set this evening. I suppose that the pronunciation of vowels and consonants in that particular genre of music is quite uncommon these days. But it was my desire to set a sterling standard for symbolic citation by the supervisor of the ensemble for coming contestants over the course of time.

The choral director smiled like a Cheshire cat after I obliged him with a masterful performance of a melismatic segment of Handel's Messiah that I used to deliver to the masses in my voice studies in college. He seemed pleased to make my acquaintance and I have to admit that I've not met a young chap of his caliber in at least a decade or two. I suppose that I shall be called upon to aid him in polishing up the vocals in his Sunday ensemble, but if not, I had a dashing time of it, being back on stage.

I did have one minor problem, though, as my old bones climbed up the stairs to the platform. My trousers were a bit too stiff from all the starch that I had by error, dropped into my laundry last week, when my bifocals had become fogged up by the steam of the rising water in the washing machine. I had a mite of difficulty bending at the knee and began to loose my balance somewhat. Fortunately, I reached for a nearby microphone stand and righted myself pretty quickly, though it did coincide with some squeals and squeaks coming from one of the speakers. The modern conveniences have their advantages but oft can be a smidgen cantankerous from time to time. I do believe, though, that we ironed out the matter significantly by the time I recovered the microphone to sound my resonant tones. When the audition ended, I discovered that I had, in my haste to arrive at the house of worship, forgotten to imbibe a spot of iced tea and to ingest the cold cucumber sandwich that I had prepared to eat along the way. So, I strolled out on the grounds to find a shady limb under which to place myself. After devouring the delightful dinner, I rested for a while, and then climbed into my Mini Cooper and proceeded here for our weekly lesson. Along the drive, I admired the brilliant finish of the paint job I recently had re-touched, reflecting specks of the British racing green across the cabriolet and glistening like sparks of glitter in the setting sun rays. I arrived here safely and tucked my automobile under cover for the remainder of the night as the Oakes have generously offered the use of their guest room this week because of my previous mishaps late at night in the Florida rain storms.

I am grateful once again for your faithfulness to attend my online classes and for Ms. BeckyJoie who so graciously offers her blog every week. I could not imagine trying to circumnavigate the world wide web in order to create a blog for myself. I once attempted the evil feat and became maddeningly overwhelmed. Thus, I shall leave the technological triumphs to another more adept while I shall continue to bring the excellence in accelerated English eloquence.

Speaking of the art of eloquence, I have been unable to shake the impression of the English Rose whose voice attracted my attention last week. I was transported, whether in reality or my thoughts, from my presence at the Barnes and Noble Book Sellers Establishment to the celestial realms where she seemed to naturally find her place in a blanket of brilliant light. The sound of her voice echoed through it like an opera singer at Carnegie Hall. Though I never had the pleasure of viewing her angelic countenance, I am quite certain that her radiance must be of no equal comparison. Might I have known her from another realm or from my place of origin? Only time will tell but I have not been able to erase her memory from my mind. But I shall try, for it is only once in a lifetime that one meets a lady with such enchanting elocution and it is unlikely that I shall be able to be graced by her presence again, save some miraculous intervention. So, I shan't indulge in the monotony of the retelling of the saga but thus, proceed to this week's agenda at Rather Be Writing.

For today's lesson, we shall answer the following questions. Feel free to leave your own comments and suggestions in the box below marked "comments".

1. Hectic or Helpful Homonyms. The magnificent model of feminine pulchritude made her way across the green to browse the tables at the ( a. flee, or b. flea) market. Choose one.

2. Ideal or Idiotic Idioms. When writing descriptive lines in poetry or prose, one must not ( a. overplay one's hand or b. over-egg the pudding). Choose one.

3. Wise or Wacky Words. The word is affable. Does it mean: a. easy to speak to and gracious OR b. the after effects of laughing.

4. Cute or Comical Coinage. Kiss gate. This term is used quite frequently in England where I lived as a young fellow in my preparatory school days. The Kiss Gate was designed to prevent animals from escaping or entering a location and it consisted of a half door that only one person at a time could pass through, usually, the gentleman would enter first and offer to help the ladies afterward. Often my chums would make their boast about preventing the young ladies from moseying through unless they had first offered a kiss. Of course, I never attempted this with the ladies as I ne'er wished to receive the brunt of their brolly upon my head but some chaps may have succeeded.

NOTE: I shall add two more categories for this week alone and they may appear again at random. This shall serve to keep the readers alert and searching for new words to leave in the comment box.

5. Spelling Slips. Which spelling is correct for the following word: a. nucular OR b. nuclear ?

6. Pun Fun. I had found my true soulmate. She and I were both wearing British shoes.

Now, my friends it is your turn. Try your hand at the examination. It is an open book test, so retrieve your dictionary and thesaurus and search away. Don't forget to leave your answers for the rest of us to view in the comments department. Also, leave us a link to follow you back to your weblog or post. In that way, we can find you more easily. I shall post the answer in the next couple of days.

Cherio, my chums!

To the Editor Or Bust

I will write and you cut.

I do NOT like it but

'Tis conciseness, I know,

Is the way I must go.

So, please, snip and then clip,

Make it all look real "hip".

Line it up- make it fit

But do not hide my wit.

I've a voice--I do care.

No! Please. Don't change it there!

What I aim now to say

Can not be said that way.

But you shave and you nip

Faster than an old whip.

Firm it up, make it fine

Though I whine and I whine.

In the end, I concede,

It's in the Writer's Creed:

Fixes come from the pro's-

Only the editor knows

What looks best on a page,

What appeals, age to age,

What the publisher craves,

How he reads and then raves.

When the words, fit in form

Yield applause like a storm

From the readers abroad

Who will scan and then nod.

So I write, bite my nail,

Attach the piece to email

And I send it, I must

To the editor or bust!

After a little inspiration from the talk show hosts at Grace Talk Soup, who wrote their theme song in true Dr. Seuss Style, I decided to give it a try myself. I hope you had a chuckle out of reading this. (To listen to Grace Talk Soup, click on the badge at the end of my blog.)

Keep Out of Children

Warning this post may have an offensive word in it.

Years ago when my husband and I were shopping at a local Dollar store, we found this saying on the side of a box of knives made in China: Keep out of children.

Another time we entered a city municipal building and read a poorly abbreviated sign outside of the Tax Collectors office. It said, "Collector of Taxes and Asses". We both just about fell on the floor laughing.

Today, while checking my FreeCycle and Cheap Cycle discussion boards, I almost spit my juice all over the screen when I read this line: Women's clothing, Reduced 50%. First, size large and now small and medium. What? Did that mean they reduced the sizes of the women's clothing or the prices?


Hear are some more funnies:

1. "Please come and bring a guest to our "carry-in" game dinner. (I heard this on the radio and thought it said "carrion".)
2. "Join us this evening for a special treat at we hear missionary Bertha Belch all the way from Africa."
3. "Ears pierced while you wait. Half off on Wednesdays." (A sign outside a Jewelry boutique.)
4. Next Sunday, a special collection will be taken to defray the cost of the new carpet. All those wishing to do something on the new carpet will come forward and get a piece of paper. (church bulletin.)
5. "I'm so glad you are good fried." (I wrote this on a note but meant to write "I'm so glad you are my good friend.)

I hope these examples serve as reminders to all writers to be careful in choosing and spelling your words...or NOT! Those of us with demented minds and sick senses of humor need more faux paus to tickle for our funny bones.

From My New Robo-Maid

Okay, I know this is corny but I had to post it.

Do you ever just goof around with no purpose other than to vent? I wrote this when I was overwhelmed with trying to balance housekeeping with my other responsibility. I was dreaming of a robotic maid to do my chores. Enjoy!

Robo-Maid

Shoes spin like copters
I fly through the room
NO need for a Swiffer
A vacuum or broom.

Big wheels churn in motion
UP under my skirt;
A slick slurping motion
Sucks up all the dirt.

Meanwhile from above you
Lace patterns I weave
While sucking up cobwebs
In my disposable sleeve.
Dots dancing and twirling
Dust forms its design.
My mouth makes a circle
The size of a dime.

The swoosh sound of slurping
'til dust is all gone.
Silk Smoothers start spinning;
Roto wristpads swirl on.

I shine and I polish
I buff and I shine
I work with a promise
There be no Pledge slime.

The rooms now are spotless
They smell fresh and clean
For I am the Wonder
Whirl Cleaning machine.