Exceptionally Slow


As I have written elsewhere:

    For me, a single sentence is a man-crushing python – a writhing anaconda to be wrestled into submission only through a virtual life-and-death struggle. It is not uncommon for me to spend an hour formulating one sentence. The reward for such care? A tangle of half-strangled sentences squirming for more attention. On rare moments my word groping lurches beyond snail-pace to a teeth-rattling tortoise-trot. Moments later I hit the dust again, compelled to retrace my route on hands and knees, scouring the text for hours like a near-sighted Mr. Magoo, convinced I must have missed something in my inordinate haste.

    (If you suppose I’m exaggerating, see How I Write.)

    Words! There’s never one around when you need it. I try on a dozen for size, and even the best hangs off the cuff, is unfashionable and forever needs ironing. At school my English grades were so poor that I dropped the subject the first opportunity I had. There must be thousands of Christians who could have written those books with greater ease.

    But they didn’t.

    ‘You have a very readable style and some of your expressions and word usages are brilliant,’ wrote a magazine editor about an early draft of the book. I cherish that quote, but could any average person pour such torrents of prayer and effort and submission to God, year after year, into a project and the result be anything less than brilliant?

I set myself a fairly high standard. I seek to serve God and my readers by pouring much effort into trying to be clear, precise, entertaining and easy to read. Nevertheless, I might even have a slight disability when it comes to writing.