How Writing Changed My Life

Today I have the privilege of guesting posting at Goins Writer, a blog dedicated to the craft of writing. Whether you consider yourself a writer or not, Jeff Goins provides daily inspiration for both writing and life. His blog is a great tool to help you live a better story.

The last time I wrote anything was my freshman year in college for a history class. I was headed to medical school, a life dedicated to science. Writing was of no interest to me. In fact, I hated it.

Photo credit: Ramunas Geciauskas (Creative Commons)

Fourteen years later, I finally put pen to paper again, and it changed my life.

photo by Ramunas Geciauskas (Creative Commons)

The plan

By nature, I am a planner. Scientific. Precise. I had my life mapped out. A plan that any parent would be proud of.

As a senior in high school I decided to become an orthopedic surgeon. The course of my life was set. College. Medical school. Marriage crammed into the empty space somewhere. Maybe kids. Then Residency.

For the most part, life went according to the plan. Kids came earlier than expected. Much earlier. But it all worked out.

Mixed in the background of everything was church. Although life is full of uncertainties, for me church was not one of them. I attended every Sunday, dressed in coat and tie, armed with my Bible. I fit the mold. I was in the club.

I viewed God with this same precision. The same science. I was one of those people who had the answer to everything. The world was black and white and the Bible was a prescription for whatever ailed you.

God was understandable and I, more than anybody else, understood him. I had all of the answers. Yes. I was one of those guys — I was a jerk.

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