A Voice Inside

Before Kevin Costner’s career came to a sudden halt with Waterworld. He had the world in his hands. Young, terribly sexy, stupid in love with his wife and kids starring in some amazing films. Travelling the world amassing a small fortune that made it possible for him to become a Director.

One film that really made an impression on my was Field Of Dreams (1989, a real golden oldie) playing an Iowan farmer called Ray Kinsella who was inspired by a voice he couldn’t ignore to do something that he could hardly believe in 1970. It was Kinsella’s book Shoeless Joe that was adapted for the film.

He was 35  or 36 at the time and in an economy that wasn’t exactly what you would call booming he turned one of his corn fields, his bread and butter fields keeping him and his family just above the poverty line. Yet the voice told him to flatten it and build a baseball diamond with the assurance only he could hear of “If you build it they will come.”

Almost biblical like Noah and the Ark or Moses charged with the task of “Set my people free. Or Abraham “you must sacrifice your only son” I use the bible references because at the time the film came out I was involved in organised religion identifying as Christian.

I’ve adapted a theory for my writing around a similar voice. “Write it with your truth. Share it with anyone and everyone and they will find you.

I have no idea if my theory will be proven  or disproven. That is no longer of any concern  to me. I know if I write and edit the best book I am capable of I will be at peace.

I don’t want to make a ton of money, or use my writing to exorcise some ghosts, or get payback on those who wronged me. I’m not doing it as a catharsis for the trauma of my childhood and the many trials and tribulations I have endured. As that would come across as arrogant and a belief that I am somehow better than others.

I know for sure that I am no better nor for that matter any worse than anyone else. We all have things happen to us.

It isn’t what happens to us that matters though.

It is how we respond to what happens to us that determines our character.

Why do some people see a dangerous storm and others a wonder of nature? Some can only see the cracks and weeds in the broken pavements of our cities and others see great swathes of colour arcing over grey buildings with dappled light that seems to sparkle and shimmer. Why can one person look after five children and work three part-time jobs choked up with the cold and a throat rasping with each word they speak and others spend days in bed anxious it will develop into chronic bronchitis or even cancer of the larynx?  Why can one write thousands of words about a place and people that don’t exist and others can barely manage to write Thank You on a card?

I’m doing it because something deep inside me awakened and I became a writer just over two years ago.  I will write until the day I die. I might not sell more than a couple of hundred copies. However the literary editor of the online magazine who published my short story said “I read it several times and very much liked his way around words___something touched me here.” Sat 7 Aug 2021 I received that email and was the day I became a proper bona fide published author. Just over a year from when I wrote my first words.

My writing touched someone. That’s our job isn’t it? That’s our hope and dream? Our writing will touch someone and for a brief moment they will have an experience where the world dims from their view and the light of their imagination illuminates a wonder. 

As not only a new writer but a new LGBTQ+ writer a book called “Irreversible Damage: The Trans Gender Craze Seducing Our Daughters.” by the journalist Abigail Shrier. A book that in our Woke world of madness has been universally condemned. Abigail’s life and the lives of members of her family (her children) have had death threats.

Journalists are made of strong stuff though and she won’t stop speaking out. It is too important for her to remain silent. Why?  Because thousands and thousands of teenage girls have committed suicide. More than at any time in our history. A spike of 70% over a very short time frame.

It sticks out in the same way the Shard dominates the London skyline. How many more lights will go out before something is finally done about it? Are you a parent or close relative of an LGBTQ+ plus teenage “girl”? Either by birth or another route. Doesn’t matter if the result is the same. If so, you must read this book. It could save her life. 

So, I now have another voice that says “how many more?” Some of the lights that are now extinguished may have been destined to make breakthroughs in science and technology, or to be leaders of a new way of governing purging the poison and restoring the beautiful truths upon which they were originally built. One may have been one who would rise as a visionary standing on the shoulders of those who went before her leading  a generation who would ensure the survival of our species. “How many more?” I hope with every fibre of my being that it’s a really small number. 

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