The Fourth Discovery: Written w/ Purpose

Once again I write glazed over from sleep, but a bit more awake than yesterday. Yet I have no idea what to write about. I feel like writing w/out purpose is just a mild case of writer’s block. You can get ideas, but they don’t inspire you or flow like they should. So you erase every also beginning and you start again, and again, and again. But there is one benefit, the best ideas come out once the illness has dissipated. And the only way to get rid of writing w/out purpose-titis is to go through the symptoms, because some of those few ideas you past by will be useful in the future. For example, though out this last paragraph I have decided to write about writing w/ purpose, and I like the results. That’s how people write books, series even, they a have a purpose to convey throughout all those stories. You can really notice purpose from self-help books, but fiction also carries purpose through the theme and morals. Some of the worse stories have no purpose. When I say purpose, I pretty much mean goal for being. These are usually found in interviews between the author and a reporter. You get question like: So why did you write this book? What do you want to convey to your readers? What inspired you to write this book? Questions like those are the backbone of purpose behind every story, so you have to be cautious of what you read. If a good story has bad purpose, then just find another. You don’t want to be influenced by bad motives that you read, so you might as well just find another book. Your life is even a story, that God has imbedded purpose through. He made all of us for a reason, and you have to make sure you’re following His purpose so that you please him and influence others correctly. Every page of a story effects a persons, but every action that you play out can either get the person closer to God or farther away. You choose every day and every moment, so choose your story’s content wisely because once it’s written it influences. Here’s a poem that I wrote about books. Hope you found the purpose through this post! 

Clots of though grasped in ink

Contained stains clasped on sheet

Potholes of pauses litter the pages

Infinite cages filled with untamed creations

Every pieces holds divine knitted lines transferring your mind into a different reality 

An abstract painting of literature where your imagination decides 

Lives that are plucked together by storytellers' stellar abilities to drag what's human unto paper

Crammed into a novel which makes you marvel at the underdogs who clog the shelves 

Caves of thin sheets, sprinkled with summer heat, cradle their readers who straddle their books

Building who devote their nooks and crannies to stories

Theses’ glories' nannies give warm smiles and quick shushes 

Pushes toward the isles and miles of titles

Tidal waves of knowledge, blooming like foliage in the colleges and schools

Pools of syllables and definitions

Fan-fictions and book clubs stub people, who are all words of a bestseller, held together like a hardback spine

One single story at a time