It’s been a week since I was called to write the little book. So far I have seven chapters edited and completed. 10,000 words. 40 pages. It is not what I thought it would be. I sit at the computer, after my morning coffee, and say a prayer.
“God if it’s your will that I continue writing this, let me speak with Your words. Give my angel Your words and let him speak them to me so that I may write them down. If this is Your will. Amen.”
Then I wait. I have no idea what the next installment will be about. I have no title and a blank page really doesn’t exist. Mostly there is no waiting though. I start to write and I am not forming the sentences, just the words. I write with speed and accuracy, most of the time not needing to correct anything other a comma here or there. I write five pages then stop.
When I go back and read the section or chapter, I have no recollection of what I have written. It is concise and to the point, but it is not a point I was trying to make. Sometimes, I don’t even understand what the words mean, though they sound very important.
This is not me writing this. My angel is translating. So far, I am not afraid of the source.