Writing is rarely a matter of waiting for the muse. It’s mostly a matter of writing until the muse shows up.–> Click to tweet.

Untitled

On Fridays hundreds of writers gather here to write the muse into being. You’re welcome to join from your blog, your pen and paper, your thoughts left in the comments. As long as you write. From anywhere – your desk, your car in the car pool line, your rocking chair with the baby in your arm and you typing on your phone.

So come one, come all, and come and lay down expectations and the critical voices in your head and write safe and welcome.

And if you’re going to be at the Allume Conference? I’d LOVE to meet you in person. We’re hosting a Five Minute Friday meetup again this year – details all over here.

How to Join:

Want to know how Five Minute Friday got started and how to participate? All the details are here.

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

OK, are you ready? Please give us your best five minutes on the word:::

Ordinary…

GO

My friend, Holley Gerth, is the five minute artist today. This is how she spent her five minutes on this one word that tries to build walls around so many of us:

Ordinary is the lie we tell ourselves when we look in the mirror and say the girl looking back is no one special. It’s the false feeling that tries to overwhelm us when we’re standing in the corner at a conference and everyone else seems cooler. It’s the whisper of the enemy of our hearts when we get ready to offer what we’ve tucked away inside for so long.

Don’t believe in ordinary, my friend. There’s no such thing.

You are not ordinary. You are extraordinary. The God who spoke the stars into being knit together your soul. Chose the color of your eyes. Numbered the hairs on your head. Placed gifts within you like presents for the world to open with joy.

And your life isn’t ordinary either. That’s the scent of something eternal in your laundry basket. Those handprints on the hallway walls are art and magic. Your waking, your sleeping, your dreaming in between—all of those are a wonder.

Don’t be fooled.

Ordinary doesn’t exist.

It never has.

It’s only the word we use when we’ve forgotten the miracle…

STOP

{Subscribers, you can just click here to come over and play along}

  •  
  • 54
  • 2
  •  
  •  
  •  
    56
    Shares