Warning: A non-numeric value encountered in /home4/wad5kw0acnhm/public_html/wp-content/themes/Divi/functions.php on line 5806

When Nothing Makes Sense

When Nothing Makes Sense

When writing a book, there is always a point in the process where nothing makes sense. There’s a multitude of seemingly unrelated scenes and amorphous characters. You wonder how it all fits together. Or if it ever will. You forget what you’ve already written. You don’t know where you are going. You’re fairly certain that the entire manuscript is absolute garbage. But as a writer, it’s nearly impossible to throw those precious words away. You’ve labored over them. That little word count at the bottom of the screen is a record of actual hours, days, weeks, and sometimes, years of your life. To scrap them all, throw them away, would be worse than the idea of wrestling the current mess of a manuscript into something palatable. So you press forward. Keep writing. Reminding yourself with every word, paragraph, and chapter that this. Is. Awful. It still doesn’t make sense. You still don’t know where you are going. But who cares. You just write.

And then one day, you decide to start back at the beginning and read through the whole atrocious thing. It’s like perusing a photo album or old journal. Scenes of the story come to life like old memories. You feel love toward your characters like they are old friends. And suddenly, without warning, the whole darn thing begins to make sense. Like a puzzle, all of the pieces fall into place. And you realize, in your hands, you hold a story. Is it a great story? Heck no. Is it finished? Not even close. But it is a story nonetheless. It is going somewhere. It has a purpose, a message to tell. And it is yours.

Our lives are, in essence, the same way. Because all lives are really just stories.

There is always a point, and usually more than one, where nothing in your life makes sense. There’s a multitude of seemingly unrelated events and amorphous relationships. You wonder how it all fits together. Or if it ever will. You forget how far you’ve come. You have no idea where you are going. You’re fairly certain that your entire life is a blip, a mistake, absolute garbage. But as a human, it is nearly impossible to throw the whole thing away. So you press forward. You keep living.

And then one day, you decide to start back at the beginning. You examine your life from start to finish, perusing it like a photo album or old journal. And suddenly, without warning, the whole darn thing begins to make sense. Like a puzzle, all of the pieces fall into place. And you realize, contained within your precious little life, is a story. Is it a great story? Heck no. Is it finished? Not even close. But it is a story nonetheless. It is going somewhere. It has a purpose, a message to tell. And it is yours.