|By William Bruce Ellis Ranken (1881-1941)
[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
“What am I fit for? What have you left me fit for? Where am I to go? What am I to do? What’s to become of me?”
(Pygmalion Act 4, Line 51)
Eliza Doolittle’s words echo regularly in my mind. This is my refrain in young adulthood. No longer a child, still establishing myself as the mythical Adult, I wonder what is to become of me.
Like Eliza facing her triumph at the ball, I look at my own list of accomplishments and wonder what comes next. I am a member of Sigma Tau Delta. I have a BA. I’m earning an MA. I recently joined the NCWA. I’m married. I have two jobs. I have a car in my name. I have student loans. I have a cell phone bill. I pay for insurance. I’m a pet owner. I have houseplants that are still alive.
But what does all of that mean? Like Eliza, now that I have these accomplishments, what next?
This morning, in the midst of an earlier writing session, I looked over what I had just written and wanted to delete everything. The whole lot of it overflowed with cliches, boring dialogue, and dead characters. It sounded preachy. I had lost my plot’s direction. But I stayed my finger as it hovered over the backspace key.
Even though I heard Eliza’s questioning wail in my head, I pulled my hands back from the keyboard, closed my eyes, and made myself remember: I am a writer. I know that my own voice is still developing. In my impatience, I want to know what I am fit for now. And yet, God is still working on me.
Until He lets me in on knowing the details of His plan, I’m just going to keep writing. I will quiet my inner Eliza and still her fears. God knows what I’m fit for, and when I’ll be ready. His plans for my writing may never involve publication. My writing may only ever reach a few dozen people, and probably most of those will be my family and close friends. Or maybe, my writing will only ever be something for God’s pleasure alone. If that is all that I am fit for, well, that is still a wonderful fit!
Shaw, Bernard. Pygmalion. New York: Brentano, 1916; Bartleby.com, 1999.www.bartleby.com/138/. [Date of Printout].