My Favorite Pair of Rose Colored Glasses

  This semester I’ve been deeply struck with complex discussions and readings on art and faith. I have also been challenged by various authors to examine what it means to be a writer. What sacrifices does it take? What makes for successful writing? Is writing art? 

I’ve been told by the author of the article we read this week to kindly discard my rose colored glasses, because writing is not what we romanticize it to be. He criticizes thinking writing is artistic and a craft. The author said, “The romantic writer is the type who uses a ton of flowery language, thinks their book is going to get picked up by Harper Collins, and laments the lack of literary quality in today’s writing.” I will admit–flowery writing for the sake of sounding ‘pretty’ is not necessarily good writing. It lacks a certain quality and may not be labeled as successful. However, there is a difference between flowery writing and believing writing is an artistic craft.

Before I continue any further as to whether or not it is appropriate to view writing as art, I want to be clear that I raved about this particular article. It was full of helpful information, and a kick-in-the-butt, tough love attitude that I need in my life. Between Anne Lamott, Madeleine L’engle, and this author, I am realizing I respond very well to witty, sarcastic, tough love teachers. It is when the brutal, hard truth advice is accompanied by a genuine deep love, grace and encouragement, that I can take it, swallow it and find myself inspired to push forward or try something different. And I don’t even know if I want to be an ‘author’ of any kind–but I know I want to write, in some capacity or form. 

While I highly recommend the article as a whole, something about his statement towards those who view writing as art struck me. What does it mean for writing to be art? Does an artistic view of writing really mean flowery filler language? If we view art as flowery, loose, inspirational jargon, then I think we’ve missed the point. 

I don’t have a perfect definition, but there is something about art that connects us to God through storytelling and creation in a unique way. 

Today I was reading chapter 9 of Madeleine L’Engle’s Walking on Water for my art and faith class. She shared an anecdote from a time she was speaking at a conference. She was talking about being a writer. The first part of her lecture was about work and discipline and the second half about listening and intuition. Tension and release. Self control and letting go. Sitting down to write every day but then listening to the characters and the story. Letting it move you.

 She shared how two students came up to her after the lecture. One only heard “work,” the other only heard “Don’t think. Write.” She explained that these two men missed the point. You need both listening and discipline in writing. Both are required for art making. And both are required for prayer.

Prayer requires discipline. It also requires listening and gentleness. 

It requires quieting ourselves to listen to the Holy Spirit, sitting at the Father’s feet when we don’t feel like it. Speaking and listening. Obedience. Stillness. Discipline. 

Through this analogy, she connects art and prayer. She connects writing and prayer. And therefore, she connects writing and art. If both discipline and listening are required for good prayer and good writing, then it can be said they are both required for good art. Because art is when writing becomes prayer. 

I don’t know about you, but sometimes my prayers are messy. They are full of tears, harsh words, and jumbled up thoughts. 

Sometimes I don’t feel like praying. My prayer is one of discipline, reading words given to me, and coming to the Lord anyway. 

Sometimes it is full of joy and delight. A bubbly spouting of all the good things, the wonder, and the dreaming. 

Sometimes my prayer is listening. Stillness. 

Writing is the same. Sometimes it is rough, jumbled, and messy. But in it there still may be honesty. There still may be communion with God. God works through the messy and broken all the time in the Bible. So who is to say He can’t take our messy, broken writing and turn it into art. 

Believing writing is artistic and a craft does not mean I believe it is something that comes naturally. It does not mean I believe it must sound perfect or pretty. But rather, to the contrary, writing is a craft, and therefore it takes work. It takes time. And it takes practice. But God can use what we write, no matter how broken, and together we can make art. What a gift!

When I read the article’s comment to discard my rose colored glasses I was left wondering if viewing writing as art is something I must sacrifice to be a writer. Do I have to give up altogether the idea of writing being a sacred act of worship and listening? Can my shitty first drafts also be acts of obedience and listening as I work to engage in relationship with God through my rambly stories?

I do not believe ignorance is the key. Though there are many harsh, evil, hard to swallow things in the world, we must look at them in order to love deeper. We must see the evil to even begin to understand the goodness of our God. We must recognize the brokenness to find hope and redemption. To understand grace.

 I am not arguing that we put rose colored glasses on all of life. But in this particular case, I would like to keep my funky, fresh rose colored glasses. Writing is art. It is art in the messy phases of discipline and obedience, and it is art in the gentle listening and surrender. We can recognize the discipline and work required for writing, the need to surrender excuses and laziness, while still viewing writing as an act of art making. 

Sincerely, 

Sophi