The Write One – Jan Verhoeff Writes

Early in those formative years as I started learning about life, I knew I wanted to write. There was only one solution to my desire to write. It had to be the foundational moment of conception. I’d have to write the real content of my heart.

Words appeal to me.

From the beginning the shape of words, the actual writing of the words meant something. I wasn’t sure what, but I spent hours writing words, one at a time until I got them down just right. I knew I needed to put the words on paper in perfect script. There were times I’d write one word for hours, just working the penmanship and writing that one word until it looked perfect between the lines.

Stringing words together.

After one word became perfect, I’d find another and string them together to formulate a thought. On rare occasions when the words became rhymes or poetic, I’d share them. But more often, I’d simply write them in my journal. I’d write one word at a time in perfect script into my journal, acknowledging the whole value of each stroke of my pen. The words adjoined to make a perfect thought, a sentence with value unto themselves.

Poetic license was born.

During a particularly long winter, I began arranging words around formative thoughts that described my favorite time of year. I’d write one word after another until I’d described the picture in my mind. During this time, words developed function and form, beyond the perfect script of the pen. They became poetic pictures of my life.

Plots thicken and jel.

Once I’d begun to write one scene, the rest of the plots began to jel and thicken in my mind. Delightful events escaped my pen, flying across the paper in words mingled with penmanship, guided by the write one, me. The story became real, living and vivid in words kept in check only by the time to place value between sentences and edged into focus, chiseled by the write one.

Characters were born.

Beyond the scenes, deep in the emotional connection of description, characters breathed life into the story. The write one expanded into creation and gleaned introduction to the spirit of inspiration, allowing the characters to flow, exist and live. The write one knew them. They were born of desire and need. Characters developed where none had lived before.

Daunting danger and mystery arose.

Out of the depths, I wrote the write one with daunting danger. Mystery arose and existed in havens of gilded pleasure and escape. Did the story line appear before the character or is the character living the storyline. Only the write one knows. Only, the write one knows…

Okay – so, I know this is literary prose at its very worst, but… The words escaped my finger tips, drilled into the white screen and appeared before me. I could hit delete… But, the words have a life of their own – and the write one knows.

Advertisements

The Write One

The Write One presents: Jan Verhoeff

So much fun… I thought about the title for a bit and wondered what I could do that would give power to this blog, and still provide me with a place to write information I enjoy writing about. I’m a constant journaler, always adding to the information in my journals and increasing the pages. But I’m also a people watcher, readily watching and writing what I see.

some of my favorite times are spent writing. I write when I’m happy, or sad, or blue, or angry. It helps to write out my feelings and keep them in my journals. It gives me something to look back on to measure how far I’ve come from where I was last year. Occasionally, I look back and read them. But more often I look forward, and write something new.

The Write One – a message of faith.

When you put words on paper, you give credibility to the words. The Write One offers solid faith substance of the words. A love affair with words effectually changes a writer. One writer known to comment frequently on his own love affair with words, suggested, “Words fold together and harmonize with the way we live. They form the foundation of our lives. Certain words effectively change the the world.”

Jan Verhoeff believes in Nothing but the Write One.

Writing Moments – Do Your Neighbors Know What You Do?

OVer the past several years, I’ve written several books, edited books for several published authors, and been rather visible among publishers and authors in various locations, but locally, I’m known as the kid down the block. I’m no longer a kid, but they haven’t figured that out.

After one particularly lucrative job of editing a book for a well known writer, I received payment in the form of a personal check. That isn’t highly unusual, but it was a rather large sum of money, and I deposited it early one Monday morning. I understood the bank policy not to put cash directly in the account when a personal check is deposited, so I wasn’t surprised when the teller reminded me there’d be a three day delay on the deposit.

Imagine my surprise, however, about six hours later when a local law enforcement official came knocking on my door. He alerted me that he was here investigating check fraud, and although he didn’t have a warrant, he wanted to ask me a few questions. We laughed (I knew him well, and trusted him as a friend and law enforcement officer). I was curious about his questions, and his reason for visiting me, but was floored when he gave me more information.

He was investigating the deposit of a rather large sum of money into my bank account earlier, and wondered if I could explain the name on the check. I told him I’d edited a book for the writer, who sent me the check. He said, “Really, you edit his books?”

I invited the officer in and pulled the contract and manuscript from my files.

“Well, I’ll be daw-goned. You really do edit his books?” His eyes showed complete surprise, and I knew I was going to have to produce more proof.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number on the contract. “Hey-hey, got a minute?” I asked the man who answered on the other end of the line.

“Sure, what’s up Jani?” He asked.

“There’s an officer here, questioning the deposit I made earlier. Can you reinforce the contract, the manuscript, and your identity for him?” I asked, knowing the writer was going to have a hay-day with this incident.

“Sure, I can…” he paused.

I handed the officer the phone.

Each identified the other and they talked about the literary services I provided. Then the officer handed me back the receiver.

“Jani, how many times have I told you that you must MARKET what you do in your home town. If they don’t know what you do, who will buy your books?”

We hung up the phone and I chatted with the officer for a few moments. I’ve learned to plan “writing moments” in public places, where people recognize what I do, ask me about writing, and remember that I’m a writer. Now, they buy my books!