Congratulations to the winners of the June SCWC Writing Challenge
And read their winning entries below!
The Southern Christian Writers Conference's June writing challenge was to write a personal essay about a joy you've experienced along your writing journey. The challenge was partly a response to the wonderful time we had at the annual SCWC gathering in June; we saw so many people celebrating the JOY of being a writer and we want to always encourage our fellow creatives of the joyful experience writing can be.
We received a slew of wonderful essays in response to the challenge, and wish that we could recognize everyone (if you entered the challenge...thank you!); we are happy to recognize the essays that rose to the top.
Congratulations to our top winners:
1st place: Sandra Hartlieb
2nd place: Pam Stein
3rd place: Ray Duval
Honorable mention: Teresa Finch and Amy Martin
Enjoy reading the winning essays below. We know you'll be as inspired by them as we are!
"My Book Club is Loving it!"
by Sandra Hartlieb
It was a typical Sunday morning. Twenty minutes before Mass began, people were gathering in the narthex. Voices floating in the air.
“How was your week?”
“Good to see you. How is your husband doing?”
“I love your dress!”
And then, a tap on my shoulder and, “My book club is loving your book!”
My friend Kathy came up to me with a sparkle in her eye and smile on her face. Her book club was reading “Holy Boldness” for their summer club meetings. She was beaming! “I can just picture you right in front of us speaking these words from women who met Jesus. We all felt like we were truly THERE with each of these women. Our meetings run over because we can’t stop talking and sharing.”
Wow! That’s why I write. No – don’t get me wrong! Not because someone compliments me or tells me it’s a great book. It’s because my words have meaning beyond the page. My stories are making an impact on women and guiding them to their own encounters with Jesus.
Let me give you a backstory.
I’ve been a storyteller all my life. My sisters used to laugh at my antics as I sat in the bathtub with a washrag on my knee to create a little person. I would regale my captive audience with story after story long after the bath water grew cold. As a preteen, I would act out my stories while alone in my bedroom. Of course, I was always the tough but lovable heroine. In high school my greatest joy was drama club and all the plays and performances.
Fast forward to the present. I have been in Christian ministry for over 40 years. I’m no youngster! I have served on church committees, told stories for Vacation Bible School, and written countless monologues and plays of biblical stories. For more than 35 years, I have been giving dramatic performances of a variety of Biblical women including Mary, Elizabeth, the Woman at the Well, Peter’s Mother-in-law and so many others.
In 2021, I became convicted by the Holy Spirit that there was another way to share the impactful stories of Biblical women. Write a book! Uh – OK – where do I start? The Spirit guided me to start with what I already had - the scripts that I had been performing! I wanted the reader to experience the story of each woman “in her own words.” But I knew that I was being called to more. I wanted readers to go beyond the story to find inspiration and encouragement for their own faith life. I wanted to unlock the mysteries of these Biblical stories for the women of today.
Most of all I wanted women to respond to their own encounters with Jesus by stepping out in holy boldness.
Each of the amazing women found in Scripture have something to teach us. My hope was that I could take their stories into something more than entertainment, but that readers would discover the lessons that each of them pass on to us. I wanted to share how to read the Bible not just for content, but for INTENT.
Writing “Holy Boldness” was a labor of love, but also one of immense joy! It satisfied my “storyteller” soul. Staying faithful to the Scripture, I love to bring the women of the bible to life– creating the experience of being in the time and place of a biblical story and, more importantly, revealing how these stories are relevant in our world today. I stayed up all night writing many nights, not being willing to let go of each story as it made its impact on me.
“I love your dress!”
And then, a tap on my shoulder and, “My book club is loving your book!”
My friend Kathy came up to me with a sparkle in her eye and smile on her face. Her book club was reading “Holy Boldness” for their summer club meetings. She was beaming! “I can just picture you right in front of us speaking these words from women who met Jesus. We all felt like we were truly THERE with each of these women. Our meetings run over because we can’t stop talking and sharing.”
Wow! That’s why I write. No – don’t get me wrong! Not because someone compliments me or tells me it’s a great book. It’s because my words have meaning beyond the page. My stories are making an impact on women and guiding them to their own encounters with Jesus.
Let me give you a backstory.
I’ve been a storyteller all my life. My sisters used to laugh at my antics as I sat in the bathtub with a washrag on my knee to create a little person. I would regale my captive audience with story after story long after the bath water grew cold. As a preteen, I would act out my stories while alone in my bedroom. Of course, I was always the tough but lovable heroine. In high school my greatest joy was drama club and all the plays and performances.
Fast forward to the present. I have been in Christian ministry for over 40 years. I’m no youngster! I have served on church committees, told stories for Vacation Bible School, and written countless monologues and plays of biblical stories. For more than 35 years, I have been giving dramatic performances of a variety of Biblical women including Mary, Elizabeth, the Woman at the Well, Peter’s Mother-in-law and so many others.
In 2021, I became convicted by the Holy Spirit that there was another way to share the impactful stories of Biblical women. Write a book! Uh – OK – where do I start? The Spirit guided me to start with what I already had - the scripts that I had been performing! I wanted the reader to experience the story of each woman “in her own words.” But I knew that I was being called to more. I wanted readers to go beyond the story to find inspiration and encouragement for their own faith life. I wanted to unlock the mysteries of these Biblical stories for the women of today.
Most of all I wanted women to respond to their own encounters with Jesus by stepping out in holy boldness.
Each of the amazing women found in Scripture have something to teach us. My hope was that I could take their stories into something more than entertainment, but that readers would discover the lessons that each of them pass on to us. I wanted to share how to read the Bible not just for content, but for INTENT.
Writing “Holy Boldness” was a labor of love, but also one of immense joy! It satisfied my “storyteller” soul. Staying faithful to the Scripture, I love to bring the women of the bible to life– creating the experience of being in the time and place of a biblical story and, more importantly, revealing how these stories are relevant in our world today. I stayed up all night writing many nights, not being willing to let go of each story as it made its impact on me.
After telling the story, I wanted to take the reader into the setting, the history, the culture and the facts behind each person's story. I wanted to give readers a sense of actually “being there” – walking alongside Jesus. Beyond that, I wanted to help readers see how their own stories connect with Biblical women. Each story goes beyond the ancient setting and enters into our lives in this modern world.
One of my most joyful experiences shared in the book is the story of a prison inmate. Here’s a little excerpt:
On one occasion, we (my sisters and I) performed at the Indiana Women’s Prison in Indianapolis. One of the scenes was my monologue of the Woman at the Well. Following the performance, the ladies gave a reception of cookies and punch for us. Women who were in a maximum-security prison for all kinds of crimes, were joyfully chatting with us about the performance and what it meant to them. A woman named Carla (not her real name) came up to me and stated, “I want to be like that woman.” I knew which woman she referred to but was puzzled by her comment. I said to her, “Tell me why.” Her face beaming, she said, “I want to meet Jesus. I want to change my life. I want to tell other people about Him!”
My sisters and friends, that is our calling! When you have had an encounter with the living God, Jesus Christ, you are transformed! That is something that you can’t hide or keep silent about. It’s what I call ‘holy boldness.’ When you have Jesus, you have living water coursing through your veins, gushing up with eternal life! That is a gift that must be shared.
Such experiences – a prison inmate accepting Jesus; a book club finding themselves immersed into the story – make me glad that I listened to the Holy Spirit! Even as I write today, I’ve got a grin on my face that won’t quit! Sometimes the Holy Spirit is like a gentle wind. We catch a scent on the air of something delightful and it sets us onto a new path. Sometimes the Holy Spirit comes on like a tornado, whisking us up into a stratosphere we never imagined! The experience of writing my first book, “Holy Boldness,” was a little of both. That enticing whiff of something that made me giddy with wonder that such an endeavor could be possible often gave way to the frenzy of writing as if the Spirit were hovering over me as my fingers tapped rapidly over the keyboard. Oh what a joy to share my encounters with Jesus!
I laugh now as I look back at my early writing. This is the first poem I ever wrote. (No corrections were made; this is the original work.)
One of my most joyful experiences shared in the book is the story of a prison inmate. Here’s a little excerpt:
On one occasion, we (my sisters and I) performed at the Indiana Women’s Prison in Indianapolis. One of the scenes was my monologue of the Woman at the Well. Following the performance, the ladies gave a reception of cookies and punch for us. Women who were in a maximum-security prison for all kinds of crimes, were joyfully chatting with us about the performance and what it meant to them. A woman named Carla (not her real name) came up to me and stated, “I want to be like that woman.” I knew which woman she referred to but was puzzled by her comment. I said to her, “Tell me why.” Her face beaming, she said, “I want to meet Jesus. I want to change my life. I want to tell other people about Him!”
My sisters and friends, that is our calling! When you have had an encounter with the living God, Jesus Christ, you are transformed! That is something that you can’t hide or keep silent about. It’s what I call ‘holy boldness.’ When you have Jesus, you have living water coursing through your veins, gushing up with eternal life! That is a gift that must be shared.
Such experiences – a prison inmate accepting Jesus; a book club finding themselves immersed into the story – make me glad that I listened to the Holy Spirit! Even as I write today, I’ve got a grin on my face that won’t quit! Sometimes the Holy Spirit is like a gentle wind. We catch a scent on the air of something delightful and it sets us onto a new path. Sometimes the Holy Spirit comes on like a tornado, whisking us up into a stratosphere we never imagined! The experience of writing my first book, “Holy Boldness,” was a little of both. That enticing whiff of something that made me giddy with wonder that such an endeavor could be possible often gave way to the frenzy of writing as if the Spirit were hovering over me as my fingers tapped rapidly over the keyboard. Oh what a joy to share my encounters with Jesus!
"From Bad Poetry to Published Author"
by Pam Stein
I laugh now as I look back at my early writing. This is the first poem I ever wrote. (No corrections were made; this is the original work.)
"Japan, Japan"
Cried a man
They had his pan
So he ran, ran, ran.
He ran like a mouse
Into a house
Which held the pan
Belonging to the man.
“Good-by Japan”
Said the man
He had his pan
So home he ran.
(1963)
I giggle, and groan now, but in the second grade, in the early 1960’s, poetry had to rhyme, so I complied. I actually wrote sixteen poems that were equally poorly written and poorly rhymed. I even created a poetry book properly titled "Poems" by tearing pages from an old spiral-bound spelling tablet and stapling them together at the top. Everything was hand printed in ball point pen. I created a Table of Contents and numbered the pages.
I still have this first book. I have saved precious and not so precious items from my childhood. Creating this poetry book brought me great joy, so I kept it.
In high school and college, my poetry writing and writing for pleasure were replaced by writing research papers. When formatting these papers, I had to leave space at the bottom of each page for footnotes. If enough space wasn’t available, I would have to retype the entire page. Typing research papers on a typewriter was tedious. During this time I discovered a passion for research. This has served me well as I began to write nonfiction articles.
Once I graduated, writing for pleasure once again came to the forefront. Like many other aspiring writers of that era, my writing was first handwritten on notebook paper or in spiral notebooks. Typing the manuscript came only after the editing process and the work was ready to be submitted to the publisher. Of course, there were no multiple submissions. I was limited to submitting the same article to one journal or magazine at a time. I had to wait as patiently as possible, for the first journal or magazine to reply before submitting to a second one. It was a long, drawn-out process.
My first published work appeared in the professional library journal, The Book Report. I received no pay for my how-to article, “Bingo Your Way Through Library Skills.” I offered to mail a copy of my Bingo card to anyone who sent me $.50. I actually sold sixteen Bingo cards and made $8.00. The payments I received were two quarters taped to an index card or a piece of paper. I continued to publish with The Book Report, her sister publication Library Talk, and Arkansas Libraries. All of these were non-paying professional library journals.
A lot has changed in both the writing world and my current writing submissions. While it was great to see my name in print, my passion was (and still is) writing for children.
My first published children’s work can be found in the online children’s magazine, StarLight Magazine. I have continued to be published in StarLight Magazine, writing Creature Features, nonfiction articles, and poetry. While this is a non-paying publication, I am learning to meet publication requirements and deadlines. These experiences are building my skills as a writer.
I am blessed to have published stories and poems in local Bartlett Christian Writer’s Group anthologies called Blessings, Truce Magazine, Collierville Christian Writer’s anthologies and national anthologies published by Divine Moments. I had a poem about writing published by the SCWC. These writings have been for adults and a joy to write.
My writer’s journey is still a process. I have still only earned $8.00 for my writing. I have been encouraged as I build my writing credits and am pursuing my dream of publishing children’s books.
“The Garden”
It was a normal day
In the month of May
I thought I would take a walk
And with the flowers talk.
(1964)
What a joy it has been to move from my bad second-grade poetry to becoming a published author.
Cried a man
They had his pan
So he ran, ran, ran.
He ran like a mouse
Into a house
Which held the pan
Belonging to the man.
“Good-by Japan”
Said the man
He had his pan
So home he ran.
(1963)
I giggle, and groan now, but in the second grade, in the early 1960’s, poetry had to rhyme, so I complied. I actually wrote sixteen poems that were equally poorly written and poorly rhymed. I even created a poetry book properly titled "Poems" by tearing pages from an old spiral-bound spelling tablet and stapling them together at the top. Everything was hand printed in ball point pen. I created a Table of Contents and numbered the pages.
I still have this first book. I have saved precious and not so precious items from my childhood. Creating this poetry book brought me great joy, so I kept it.
In high school and college, my poetry writing and writing for pleasure were replaced by writing research papers. When formatting these papers, I had to leave space at the bottom of each page for footnotes. If enough space wasn’t available, I would have to retype the entire page. Typing research papers on a typewriter was tedious. During this time I discovered a passion for research. This has served me well as I began to write nonfiction articles.
Once I graduated, writing for pleasure once again came to the forefront. Like many other aspiring writers of that era, my writing was first handwritten on notebook paper or in spiral notebooks. Typing the manuscript came only after the editing process and the work was ready to be submitted to the publisher. Of course, there were no multiple submissions. I was limited to submitting the same article to one journal or magazine at a time. I had to wait as patiently as possible, for the first journal or magazine to reply before submitting to a second one. It was a long, drawn-out process.
My first published work appeared in the professional library journal, The Book Report. I received no pay for my how-to article, “Bingo Your Way Through Library Skills.” I offered to mail a copy of my Bingo card to anyone who sent me $.50. I actually sold sixteen Bingo cards and made $8.00. The payments I received were two quarters taped to an index card or a piece of paper. I continued to publish with The Book Report, her sister publication Library Talk, and Arkansas Libraries. All of these were non-paying professional library journals.
A lot has changed in both the writing world and my current writing submissions. While it was great to see my name in print, my passion was (and still is) writing for children.
My first published children’s work can be found in the online children’s magazine, StarLight Magazine. I have continued to be published in StarLight Magazine, writing Creature Features, nonfiction articles, and poetry. While this is a non-paying publication, I am learning to meet publication requirements and deadlines. These experiences are building my skills as a writer.
I am blessed to have published stories and poems in local Bartlett Christian Writer’s Group anthologies called Blessings, Truce Magazine, Collierville Christian Writer’s anthologies and national anthologies published by Divine Moments. I had a poem about writing published by the SCWC. These writings have been for adults and a joy to write.
My writer’s journey is still a process. I have still only earned $8.00 for my writing. I have been encouraged as I build my writing credits and am pursuing my dream of publishing children’s books.
“The Garden”
It was a normal day
In the month of May
I thought I would take a walk
And with the flowers talk.
(1964)
What a joy it has been to move from my bad second-grade poetry to becoming a published author.
"The Joy that Writing has Brought to my Life"
by Ray Duval
Most of all, I never would have imagined how much joy writing would bring into my own life.
Writing has changed me in ways I still struggle to explain. It has taught me to pay attention to joy, sorrow, and miracles hidden in ordinary moments. It has forced me to slow down and sit with emotions I once tried to outrun. It has shown me that stories are not simply things we tell; they are gifts we offer.
Every time someone tells me my words helped them breathe a little easier, hope a little harder, or smile a little wider, I feel as though I have received a gift in return.
There is something deeply humbling about discovering that your pain can become someone else's healing.
When I write, I do not sit down with the intention of teaching or fixing anyone. I simply tell the truth as honestly as I know how. I write about the moments that shattered me, the moments that rebuilt me, and the uncertain spaces in between. I write about faith and doubt, grief and gratitude, fear, and courage. I write about love that refuses to quit and hope that somehow survives impossible circumstances, and then something extraordinary happens. A reader sends me a message.
They tell me they have been carrying grief for years and somehow my words gave them permission to cry. They tell me they were losing hope until they read one of my stories. They tell me they had forgotten how to believe in miracles until they stumbled across something I wrote.
Every single time, I sit quietly for a moment and let it sink in, because I know what it feels like to search desperately for hope. I know what it feels like to wonder if anyone understands.
To think that my words—these imperfect collections of memories and emotions—might help someone feel less alone fills me with a gratitude so profound it is almost impossible to describe.
There are moments when I read these messages and tears fill my eyes. Not tears of sadness, but tears of joy. I realize writing is no longer simply something I do, it is something I get to give, and giving hope is one of the greatest joys I have ever known.
Some of my happiest moments as a writer have not come from finishing a chapter or publishing a story. They have come from hearing how my words have lived inside someone else's life.
I cherish the messages that begin with, "I needed this today"; I treasure the ones that say, "I thought I was the only one." But there is one kind of message that makes my heart soar above all the others. It is when someone tells me they had an "ah ha" moment. Those moments are pure magic to me.
A reader writes, "I never thought about suffering that way before," or "I suddenly
understood why I've been holding onto anger,"or “I finally realized I am worthy of grace."
When I read those words, I feel a joy that is almost childlike in its excitement. I smile so hard my cheeks hurt. Sometimes I call someone I love just to tell them about it, because somewhere, in a quiet corner of the world, a person sees something differently because of a story I shared.
A light came on, a burden became lighter, a question finally found an answer, and somehow, unbelievably, I was allowed to be a small part of that moment. What greater joy could there be?
Writing has shown me that transformation rarely happens through grand speeches or dramatic revelations. More often, it happens through a single sentence that arrives at exactly the right time. A phrase that whispers, keep going. A story that says you are not alone. A memory that reminds someone they are stronger than they realize.
To know that my words have been those things for people is something I carry with deep gratitude. I never take it for granted. Every reader who trusts me with their heart is a gift. Every message shared is sacred. Every person who finds peace in my words reminds me that stories are far more powerful than we often realize.
There have been readers who tell me they reread my stories before bed because they make them feel calm. Others save my words for difficult days. Some say my stories helped them forgive themselves. Others say they finally found the courage to forgive someone else.
Imagine hearing that. Imagine knowing that words you wrote in a quiet room somehow traveled across cities, states, and countries and landed softly in the heart of someone who desperately needed them.
That knowledge fills me with joy, not pride, but joy. The kind of joy that makes me want to keep writing even when I doubt myself. The kind of joy that reminds me that we are all connected in ways we cannot see. The kind of joy that whispers that our stories matter.
Writing has also taught me to celebrate small miracles, to notice sunlight spilling across the kitchen floor, to appreciate laughter that erupts unexpectedly, to find beauty in scars, and to believe that even broken chapters can become meaningful stories.
The more I write, the more grateful I become, not just for the extraordinary moments, but for the ordinary ones too. I have learned that happiness is not always loud. Sometimes happiness is receiving a message from a stranger who says, Thank you. Sometimes it is realizing your story gave someone hope. Sometimes it is watching a reader discover strength they didn't know they possessed. Sometimes happiness is simply sitting at a keyboard, feeling words pour from your heart, and trusting they will find the people who need them.
I love that feeling. I love the mystery of never knowing who my words might touch. I love the connection that forms between people who may never meet but somehow understand each other through stories.
Writing has given me purpose, friendships, and countless moments of joy, but perhaps the greatest gift writing has given me is this: it has shown me that even our hardest experiences can become sources of light.
Tears become testimonies, the struggles become encouragement, the wounds become wisdom, and in sharing those things, I have discovered a happiness richer than anything I could have imagined. Joy multiplies when it is shared, hope grows when it is given away, and peace expands when it is spoken aloud.
I began writing because I had something to say. I continue writing because I discovered something far more beautiful: sometimes the words we release into the world come back carrying the healing we never knew we needed ourselves.
That knowledge fills me with joy, not pride, but joy. The kind of joy that makes me want to keep writing even when I doubt myself. The kind of joy that reminds me that we are all connected in ways we cannot see. The kind of joy that whispers that our stories matter.
Writing has also taught me to celebrate small miracles, to notice sunlight spilling across the kitchen floor, to appreciate laughter that erupts unexpectedly, to find beauty in scars, and to believe that even broken chapters can become meaningful stories.
The more I write, the more grateful I become, not just for the extraordinary moments, but for the ordinary ones too. I have learned that happiness is not always loud. Sometimes happiness is receiving a message from a stranger who says, Thank you. Sometimes it is realizing your story gave someone hope. Sometimes it is watching a reader discover strength they didn't know they possessed. Sometimes happiness is simply sitting at a keyboard, feeling words pour from your heart, and trusting they will find the people who need them.
I love that feeling. I love the mystery of never knowing who my words might touch. I love the connection that forms between people who may never meet but somehow understand each other through stories.
Writing has given me purpose, friendships, and countless moments of joy, but perhaps the greatest gift writing has given me is this: it has shown me that even our hardest experiences can become sources of light.
Tears become testimonies, the struggles become encouragement, the wounds become wisdom, and in sharing those things, I have discovered a happiness richer than anything I could have imagined. Joy multiplies when it is shared, hope grows when it is given away, and peace expands when it is spoken aloud.
I began writing because I had something to say. I continue writing because I discovered something far more beautiful: sometimes the words we release into the world come back carrying the healing we never knew we needed ourselves.
"Writing Joy"
by Teresa Finch
As I write, memories often flood my mind—moments and experiences I had nearly forgotten. Sometimes these memories make me laugh as I relive joyful times, and other times they bring tears as I reflect on meaningful or emotional experiences. Writing has given me the opportunity to reconnect with pieces of my life that might otherwise have remained hidden.
One of the greatest joys in my writing journey is the quiet comfort of my little writing nook. To some, it might look like an eclectic collection of old furniture and knickknacks rearranged in a spare bedroom. To me, it is a space where I can travel to other worlds and meet new characters that I now hold dear. It houses my favorite things like an old pie safe that belonged to my grandmother and some of my most treasured books that give me inspiration. My desk is a vintage dressing table given to me by a friend who knew I liked it. It is a peaceful place where I can escape distractions and focus on my thoughts. In that calm space, words seem to flow more freely, allowing me to express myself in ways that bring me both happiness and satisfaction.
Another source of joy I find in my writing journey is the unwavering support of my family. They are my biggest advocates, always encouraging me to keep writing and believing in my abilities. Their love, inspiration, and confidence motivate me to continue growing as a writer. They bring out the very best in me, and knowing they support my passion makes the journey even more rewarding.
It has taken a very long time for me to believe in myself enough to sit down and actually put pen to paper (or to press the keys on my computer) and capture the stories I had dreamed of writing for as long as I can remember. From the first word to the last, I find each piece unique. Each story begins as a thought, an idea waiting to be shaped and given form. As writers, we design locations, develop characters, and weave together words into something meaningful.
In many ways, this process reminds me of God’s creation. There’s a deep sense of gratitude in my journey of writing that I owe to my Heavenly Father. He created me in His image. God spoke order, beauty, and purpose into existence. As a writer, I get to use my imagination to develop scattered thoughts and ideas into a story that did not exist before. Of course, I could never compare my writing to the power of God’s creation, however, it does reflect His image in me. The desire to create, imagine, and tell a story is a gift that may have started as a mere dream that now has purpose and brings joy, peace, and fulfillment.
One experience that deterred my passion for writing occurred when I was in grammar school. I was given an assignment to write a poem. I worked very hard and was proud of the creativity and effort I had put into it. I could hardly wait to turn it in. I just knew my teacher would like it and be so pleased. I even secretly hoped she would ask me to read my poem in front of the class.
You can only imagine the shock of seeing my paper torn in half as my teacher looked at me and exclaimed in front of the class, “There’s no way you could have written this...You’re not capable, that’s a zero for you!”
My little heart was broken and shattered to pieces. I didn’t even know how to defend myself. I was devastated, and the embarrassment was overwhelming. I can honestly say that experience paralyzed me and my confidence for many years.
The desire never faded. For as long as I can remember my imagination has taken flight. Stories, catchy titles, and visions have danced in my mind just waiting to come to life on the written page. I finally accepted that my dreams would never come to fruition if I didn’t make writing a priority. I made the commitment, bathed it in prayer, and as I sat in my little nook, and started writing, I found the puzzle piece that had been missing in my life.
I suppose for me the greatest joy in writing is the stories that will give my family a glimpse of my childhood and stories that were passed on to me. Even my experience writing a poem that my teacher may not have believed was mine, is a story to pass down to let them know that sometimes we are misjudged or treated unfairly but, we can’t let those rejections derail us. We have to forgive and try to understand why things happen the way they do so we can grow and not be defined by negativity. I am pretty sure my teacher probably never had a baby Billie goat, whose fur was like a cashmere coat, whose eyes were big and brown, whose hoofs were tiny and round, whose ears reminded me a lot of a rabbit or whose eating was a very bad habit!
So, the joy of writing soars in my heart like a kite on a windy day. It flies higher and higher as the wind takes it to new heights. My spirit bubbles and sparkles as I think of bringing the pleasures I hold within to the written page to touch the lives of the ones I love the most.
"Writing Herself Well"
by Amy Martin
It was in the wee hours of the morning I was watching a PBS documentary on my handheld cell phone. Its backlit screen, despite having had the brightness adjusted, shone bright in the darkness of my bottom bunk. I was at camp serving as a nurse. I was in shared sleeping quarters and in an effort not to disturb anyone else I opted to watch the documentary in low lighting, low volume and with the aid of subtitles.
The subject matter? Agatha Christie. I admire and adore writers of all kinds, mostly because I aspire to be one myself. I had seen the documentary before, a British production, but I had not watched it previously with the subtitles on; perhaps that's why I had previously missed what profound thing was found in the darkness of my bunk that morning.
I was already feeling a kinship with Aggie. (I had determined that must be what her friends call her, Aggie.) Here we were with more in common than not, despite being separated by nearly a century of time and space. I was watching before me a woman in her middle age, a broken marriage, newly divorced, a lackluster writing career, a mental health crisis of sorts, a series of circumstances and choices not necessarily her own having landed us both squarely in the same spot.
Square one, starting over, figuring out who we are in the dawn of the twilight years of our lives. Aggie and Amy, two ol’ broads who love words and writing but couldn’t seem to put voice to the train wrecks and trauma our lives had become.
I knew how Aggie’s story ended, what would become of her, after all I had watched the show before, read her books, and Googled her on occasion, I knew what would become of her and that in those twilight years she would find love again, fulfill her purpose, and would become one of the most prolific, well known writers of all time. Her contribution to the literary world would garnish her a royal bestowed title and a meeting with the Queen.
I knew she would live a life of fullness in that second half and that if I had the opportunity to speak face to face with Aggie over a proper cup of British tea, she’d likely tell me to hang on, press on, things will get better. But hindsight is twenty-twenty as they say, and I am looking forward to my own life as she would be looking backward.
I don't know my own future any more than she would have known her own exactly a century ago when she was in the throes of illness, sorrow, despair and heartbreak but I know how her story goes and it was in this unfolding of the documentary I saw a glimpse of myself, a glint of what I am discovering and a promise of hope before me.
Things were beginning to look up for Aggie, she had begun traveling, visiting far and exotic places that would later serve as backdrops for some of her most famous writings, she was meeting people and gaining experiences that would positively influence her and her writing for the rest of her days. I have no doubt that some of the most beloved characters she gave to the world were an amalgamation of real people and her imagination coming together to produce unforgettable individuals.
The narrator of the documentary pointed out that while she traveled she kept notes, continued to write and pressed forward. Later in life about the time of the second World War she would again find herself in a difficult place and would once again repeat and continue the process. She never let her writing cease despite the circumstances she was in. It was this time in her life the narrator was referring to when she made a statement I had to snap in the form of a screenshot for my own remembrance, to encourage me along in my own difficult times.
“She [Agatha Christie] was in a bad place emotionally but when [she was writing] she was writing herself better."
I let the statement roll over itself in my own mind, I allowed the words to sit and marinate for a moment more.
“She was in a bad place emotionally but she was writing herself better.”
Those words resonated into my very marrow, into the depths of my bones, echoing within my soul. “She was writing herself better.”
It was then that the joy of writing was crystal clear to me for the first time in months that had been fraught with fogginess. Clarity is a precious commodity, and I realized at that moment that the joy of writing is in the healing that it ushers in.
From the beginning of time words have ushered in healing, comfort, calm and clarity and yet that truth became clearer when I observed as an outsider. It was in Aggie’s life that I saw bits of my own broken self. It was in the declaration of the truth I have long known that I began to understand how joy can be found in tragedy and joy felt in the midst of heartbreak. Joy that can be found in words and The Word. The joy of writing is found in knowing we are indeed writing ourselves better.
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We hope you enjoyed reading this month's writing challenge winners, and we encourage you to keep writing and submitting!
Want to participate in the July writing challenge? The challenge for this month is to write about an ideal Summer day. It can be in the form of a fictional story or a true personal essay, just keep it to 2,000 words maximum and have it all take place on one single day. Other than that, use your creativity! Send your entry to scwritersconference@gmail.com with the subject line "July writing challenge." The deadline to submit it July 30.
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