A few presidents ago, people started asking me how to write. Friends, mostly.
"Say Joe Bob, I've got this great idea for a book. All I need to know is how to get it in shape."
Or "I'm planning to be a writer. Do you have any advice on where I could start out?"
Or sometimes I would get invitations to speak at writers conferences or journalism conventions or university seminars on weighty topics like "The Modern Humorous Essay." And I would go to cocktail parties where bitter white wine was served in plastic glasses by women with two last names. And, for a while, when I first got these invitations, I would actually accept them and go spend a day spouting off about this thing and that thing and the other thing. And people would TAKE NOTES on the stuff I was saying. And when aspiring writers wrote me letters, I would write them back, volunteering suggestions on how to write and when to write and so on and so forth. And the aspiring writers would write me back, so GRATEFUL for what I had told them.
And then, one day, I realized . . .
Have you noticed how much time God has been spending on home runs and slam-dunks lately? This winter I think God scored half the touchdowns in the NFL. I've never seen so many wide receivers crossing themselves in the end zone and giving thanks for those six points.