Why I did Nanowrimo 2015

Pexels.com Used with permission

Pexels.com Used with permission

November.

Month of over-eating and college sports.

A little dash of thankfulness and then consumer stampedes at the mall. It’s an interesting time of the year indeed.

But the eleventh month of the year has come to mean something else for me.

This month also happens to be famous for a ludicrous and audacious writing challenge known as Nanowrimo (a.k.a., National Novel Writing Month).

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You don’t have to be Bob Dylan

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I was having coffee with a dear friend of mine the other day and we got to talking about art and music and our shared desire to pursue these avenues. My friend told me that often the problem is, we begin any meaningful pursuit in the arts with an end goal in mind. We believe we are supposed to be like him or her, and we measure our success against theirs. Deep down, we know this is completely unfair since we often judge the end of someone’s career with our beginning, but at the same time, it’s unfair because we are not  a carbon copy of that person. As my friend said, “You don’t have to be Bob Dylan.”

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Paper Towns

paper townsThis weird thing has taken place in my life and I feel the time has come for me to confess this. I sort of feel like Usher circa 2003 “These are my confessions.” Okay, here it is: I read the same books as teenage girls. It feels good getting that off my chest. But I should explain. At the beginning of summer, I had a few students (and by students I mean high school girls) in my youth group who recommended I read a few books. So I took them up on the offer because…well…I am a good pastor.

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On The Road

on the roadI recently finished Jack Kerouac’s novel On the Road. It’s one of those books I’ve heard people talk about quite a bit, usually with this cult-classic fascination that says, “If you don’t read this book, you are missing out on life itself.” People  get like that with certain books and sometimes it’s unfounded, but the truth is, I did enjoy this one. Interestingly, though, my enjoyment wasn’t so much for the story itself or even the characters, but for Kerouac’s writing style. I guess you can like a book for a number of different reasons and that was mine.

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