We Are World Builders

As writers, we are world builders.

I don’t just mean when we sit down to write our stories. I don’t mean during Nanowrimo or any other wrimo. I don’t mean during word counts. I mean that we, as writers, are building worlds together.

The people we meet at conferences and workshops, on Facebook and Twitter, those people are parts of our world. The things we add to it. They are the building materials, the blue prints. They are pieces we need. They are the minutia and we couldn’t do it without them.

But they themselves are not the world building. It’s how we connect to them in a real way that is. That’s how we actually build our writing worlds. We do that with our actions. We build our worlds when we read for them. When we critique them. When we invest in their passion and their process.

Now I’m talking about the word challenges and wrimos that we do together. With our writing community. I’m talking about every single person we root for. The ones that root for us. The ones who stumble, maybe even fall, then get in there and get it done.

We build our writing world when we share our stories and our news and when we listen to theirs. When we check in with them. When we are real.

We are building worlds. Every time we share our friends’ blogs. Every time we tweet someone’s good news. Every time we clap for a friend. We are building our writing worlds. And these worlds are every bit as important as the ones we write about.

These writing worlds have generals and soldiers and nurses and medics. We have ledge watchers and guards and knights in shining armor. They might be women or men under their chainmail. But whoever they are they are part of our hero’s journey. Writing is a team sport, for sure.  

Without our critique groups and conferences and networking what do we have? Book signing, party of one. Without the mentors and writing coaches and workshop leaders where would we be? Would we be as successful? Would anyone care if we were? Would our work even matter?

In order to write what we know, and have it be real, we have to recognize the sanctity of what we do and who we do it with. We have to stop just adding on. We have to build a world, an ark, a temple. The place we feel free to do our sacred work. Alone, butt in chair. Then together as a community. Each person contributing in their best way. Each person bringing a thoughtful sacrifice to the altar of Writing. Each person honestly participating, ardent as a pilgrim. Each person part of our world. As we are part of theirs.

 Dare I say, Amen.

 

As writers, we are world builders.

I don’t just mean when we sit down to write our stories. I don’t mean during Nanowrimo or any other wrimo. I don’t mean during word counts. I mean that we, as writers, are building worlds together.

The people we meet at conferences and workshops, on Facebook and Twitter, those people are parts of our world. The things we add to it. They are the building materials, the blue prints. They are pieces we need. They are the minutia and we couldn’t do it without them.

But they themselves are not the world building. It’s how we connect to them in a real way that is. That’s how we actually build our writing worlds. We do that with our actions. We build our worlds when we read for them. When we critique them. When we invest in their passion and their process.

Now I’m talking about the word challenges and wrimos that we do together. With our writing community. I’m talking about every single person we root for. The ones that root for us. The ones who stumble, maybe even fall, then get in there and get it done.

We build our writing world when we share our stories and our news and when we listen to theirs. When we check in with them. When we are real.

We are building worlds. Every time we share our friends’ blogs. Every time we tweet someone’s good news. Every time we clap for a friend. We are building our writing worlds. And these worlds are every bit as important as the ones we write about.

These writing worlds have generals and soldiers and nurses and medics. We have ledge watchers and guards and knights in shining armor. They might be women or men under their chainmail. But whoever they are they are part of our hero’s journey. Writing is a team sport, for sure.  

Without our critique groups and conferences and networking what do we have? Book signing, party of one. Without the mentors and writing coaches and workshop leaders where would we be? Would we be as successful? Would anyone care if we were? Would our work even matter?

In order to write what we know, and have it be real, we have to recognize the sanctity of what we do and who we do it with. We have to stop just adding on. We have to build a world, an ark, a temple. The place we feel free to do our sacred work. Alone, butt in chair. Then together as a community. Each person contributing in their best way. Each person bringing a thoughtful sacrifice to the altar of Writing. Each person honestly participating, ardent as a pilgrim. Each person part of our world. As we are part of theirs.

 Dare I say, Amen.

As writers, we are world builders.

I don’t just mean when we sit down to write our stories. I don’t mean during Nanowrimo or any other wrimo. I don’t mean during word counts. I mean that we, as writers, are building worlds together.

The people we meet at conferences and workshops, on Facebook and Twitter, those people are parts of our world. The things we add to it. They are the building materials, the blue prints. They are pieces we need. They are the minutia and we couldn’t do it without them.

But they themselves are not the world building. It’s how we connect to them in a real way that is. That’s how we actually build our writing worlds. We do that with our actions. We build our worlds when we read for them. When we critique them. When we invest in their passion and their process.

Now I’m talking about the word challenges and wrimos that we do together. With our writing community. I’m talking about every single person we root for. The ones that root for us. The ones who stumble, maybe even fall, then get in there and get it done.

We build our writing world when we share our stories and our news and when we listen to theirs. When we check in with them. When we are real.

We are building worlds. Every time we share our friends’ blogs. Every time we tweet someone’s good news. Every time we clap for a friend. We are building our writing worlds. And these worlds are every bit as important as the ones we write about.

These writing worlds have generals and soldiers and nurses and medics. We have ledge watchers and guards and knights in shining armor. They might be women or men under their chainmail. But whoever they are they are part of our hero’s journey. Writing is a team sport, for sure.  

Without our critique groups and conferences and networking what do we have? Book signing, party of one. Without the mentors and writing coaches and workshop leaders where would we be? Would we be as successful? Would anyone care if we were? Would our work even matter?

In order to write what we know, and have it be real, we have to recognize the sanctity of what we do and who we do it with. We have to stop just adding on. We have to build a world, an ark, a temple. The place we feel free to do our sacred work. Alone, butt in chair. Then together as a community. Each person contributing in their best way. Each person bringing a thoughtful sacrifice to the altar of Writing. Each person honestly participating, ardent as a pilgrim. Each person part of our world. As we are part of theirs.

 Dare I say, Amen.

 

As writers, we are world builders.

I don’t just mean when we sit down to write our stories. I don’t mean during Nanowrimo or any other wrimo. I don’t mean during word counts. I mean that we, as writers, are building worlds together.

The people we meet at conferences and workshops, on Facebook and Twitter, those people are parts of our world. The things we add to it. They are the building materials, the blue prints. They are pieces we need. They are the minutia and we couldn’t do it without them.

But they themselves are not the world building. It’s how we connect to them in a real way that is. That’s how we actually build our writing worlds. We do that with our actions. We build our worlds when we read for them. When we critique them. When we invest in their passion and their process.

Now I’m talking about the word challenges and wrimos that we do together. With our writing community. I’m talking about every single person we root for. The ones that root for us. The ones who stumble, maybe even fall, then get in there and get it done.

We build our writing world when we share our stories and our news and when we listen to theirs. When we check in with them. When we are real.

We are building worlds. Every time we share our friends’ blogs. Every time we tweet someone’s good news. Every time we clap for a friend. We are building our writing worlds. And these worlds are every bit as important as the ones we write about.

These writing worlds have generals and soldiers and nurses and medics. We have ledge watchers and guards and knights in shining armor. They might be women or men under their chainmail. But whoever they are they are part of our hero’s journey. Writing is a team sport, for sure.  

Without our critique groups and conferences and networking what do we have? Book signing, party of one. Without the mentors and writing coaches and workshop leaders where would we be? Would we be as successful? Would anyone care if we were? Would our work even matter?

In order to write what we know, and have it be real, we have to recognize the sanctity of what we do and who we do it with. We have to stop just adding on. We have to build a world, an ark, a temple. The place we feel free to do our sacred work. Alone, butt in chair. Then together as a community. Each person contributing in their best way. Each person bringing a thoughtful sacrifice to the altar of Writing. Each person honestly participating, ardent as a pilgrim. Each person part of our world. As we are part of theirs.

 Dare I say, Amen.

 

 

Stacie RameyComment