Revealed: My Late Night Obsession

I’m including a screenshot of the project that has had me up at nights, working at odd hours, oftentimes with a few cursewords held poised, like small nuclear missiles, on the tip of my tongue, ready to inflict scathing shock and awe at the Mac, at Pages, at the fact that an hour ago at ten-thirty, I had told my wife I would be home in ten minutes.   For the better, Steve Jobs has yet to invent a computer whose feelings can be bruised.  For now, there’s no app for iEgo.

Really, it was a love hate relationship.

For every one of those moments of impending and private techno-cold-war, there were three moments where something clicked into place, or the computer surprised me with its cleverness and foresite (thank you again, Mr. Jobs) and I raised my arms in exultation.  I even made several wordless ululating cries.  In the night, in the pool of lamplight that kept my eyes from burning out of their sockets. 

I guess what I’m saying is, I had a blast writing Journey Magazine.

So though it will be revealed in person (or, in paper) on Sunday, I have to just give you a quick glance at the table of contents.  Not the cover, because it’s too cool to really show off yet before it’s in people’s hands.  But the table of contents, yes.  It’s like the magazine’s profile on eHarmony.  Hopefully it will make you want to see the rest.

As a point of interest, that red line at the top of the page is a cut mark.  It’s how the printer knows where to cut the page to the appropriate size.  You won’t see that in the final copy.

You know, it’s funny–in this edition I wrote articles about cafes and theologiants (that was misspelled, originally, but then I realized it was appropriate for A.B. Simpson), and then realized that they would represent the first material I’ve ever written that would be read by more than a handful of people.  That’s strange to me, kind of a like a hitchcock twist.  That’s how my dreams become realized, in increments, and never as I imagined them.  When I thought of my future self as a writer, in my teens, it was always as the kid who would write the great American novel.  And my first step towards the world of being a published writer is as a magazine editor, working at my local church.  Maybe easy to dismiss, but guess what… I get paid to do this.

I’m going to sit back and enjoy the moment. 

*   *   *

Journey Magazine, Spring 2010, Contents

Waterwings are Dream Killers

Excerpted from an article currently in progress.  Think Matthew 14: Jesus walks on water, for context.  What does your boat look like?  And here’s a weird question: Can something be a work of art and a deathtrap at the same time? 

*   *   *

It occurs to me that none of us would choose, on our own and without an express invitation from Jesus, to climb out of our boat. 

Why should we?  Our boat is a work of art, because our blood and sweat and tears have been worked into the wood.  Battered and broken as we may be, our boats are things of beauty.

 There is blood in the wood of our boats, because we built them to keep us safe, and we were cut up as we worked.  People who either wished us ill or were oblivious of their wake gave us many reasons to build defenses.  We needed stout planks between ourselves and their reckless destruction.  And our sweat has cured the wood of our boat, because our livelihood depended on our resolve—long hours studying, graveyard shifts, second jobs, dreams put on hold—all the things that were necessary to keep our boat afloat.   So of course there was sweat… and also tears.   Waves of unexpected grief threatened to sweep us overboard.  We were left teeth-chattering and numb and fatigued.  It turns out, in those moments, boats are good places to dry out.

So what is a boat?  A boat is a life that has done its best to ride the waves that thrash and swell above a deep and unfathomable dark. 

And until Jesus comes along and bids us come to him, we might as well stay put.  But when Jesus does appear, cresting the whitecaps with nothing but his feet beneath him, he has come for one reason and one reason alone.

Jesus has come to save us from our boat.

How many Words can you Rhyme with Superman?

You are the clever one, the witty one–the belle of the ballpoint pen.  You are the presence.  Your charm is the black-hole around which swirls our broken hearts.  You are a heavenly body, and we are locked in the tidal vice-grip of your gravity.  You fake it until you make it out of newspaper and bubblegum.  You pour the nectar of Olympians onto the Breakfast of Champions.  Your pearls are both wise and an orthodontic masterpiece.  You are the life, the liberty, the Cadillac of cool.  You Zoom Zoom.  Your Facebook is bookmarked, well-commented, and liked (by me, her, and 1m other people).  Yours is the first quote on Maya Angelou’s profile page.  You are the smoke, the voice, and the man behind the curtain.  The black smoke stays well clear of your island.  The mirror on the wall calls you to use a lifeline.  You are the password and the final answer, the answer in the form of a question. 

Except this one:

“Who is… free from the image of what he should be?

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

We are all paralyzed by the seeming paradox of our potential and our situation.

They’d all be making marble busts | Of each and every one of us | If we decided that we must | Clean off the dreams collecting dust | And worried less ’bout Boom or Bust | Became instead afraid of rust | The deep regret, the mortal thrust | That comes from doing “only,” “just.”

On a Lark

Why “On a Lark?”

Well, for one: it’s a play on words, of sorts.  I always said, growing up and aspiring to write, that I would use the pen name “C. W. Clark,” when I became (inevitably) a published author.  So, nothing particularly clever there.

Then, for two: because last October, I made the decision (and it really felt out of body at the time) to transition out of my then-current job and into the world of gainful self-employment.  Not exactly “on a lark,” but on a quest to pursue life to its fullest, and because I believe that the best way to fly is to jump out of the nest.  So. 

I work on a variety of projects every week.  I’ve posted videos on Facebook from the myriad of coffee shops from which I’ve watched the sun rise over the last two months, but I’ve never actually shared anything from the projects I’ve been slaving away at within those pre-dawn hours, when coffee and adrenaline are the only things that keep me going–and, as I’ve found, are marvelous fuel for creativity.

Hence this blog.  I just want to share the things that I’m excited about, the things I’ve been crafting, the stuff that needs work or help from an unbiased eye.  Also, keeping a journal of this nature forces me to work hard to produce content I’m proud of.

So as you peruse my work, your comments are welcome.  Let me know if you find something particularly enjoyable, or if something needs some TLC.  I’ll appreciate it.

Signed (because tomorrow begins today!)

CW Clark