I remember the most malnourished children I’ve ever seen. I was in Zimbabwe on a mission trip, and our bus had broken down somewhere between Victoria Falls and Bulaweyo, the second largest city in the country. The whole group climbed out of the bus to kill time on the side of the road while we waited for repairs to be made.
I’m learning the fruit of my creative effort often ripens instantly. I’ll sit down and get thousands of words, but then a week later, working with the same discipline, will have nothing. But my job is not to make the words come. Who am I to make the words come?
I have a confession to make that may make some of you dismiss me as having neither taste nor class. Judge me if you will:
I LIKE THE THREE STOOGES.
I said it.