Inspire, Fall 2006

L ess is more, they say. Whoever “they” are, it turns out they’re right. I didn’t always think so, and my writing style certainly reflected my disbelief. An avid writer, I thought that if something could be said 10 different ways, I’d go ahead and say all 10. I remember churning out my first philosophy of education paper at Cedarville, impressed with how intelligent I sounded. My prof returned the paper with a brief note scrawled in red across the top of page one — “has potential, but cut the fluff!” Well, I never! After a bit of a pout, I saw the criticism for what it was — constructive (and true). My papers steadily improved. I learned the art of conciseness — getting to the point without the effusive fluff. Fast forward a few years. As a teacher, I taught my sixth- graders how to write concisely. As a freelance writer for an educational publisher, I wrote workbooks with great succinctness. Yet, as I worked on a manuscript that I hoped might someday be a book, I seemed to have forgotten the whole “less is more” deal. In January of 2005, two publishers took a look at my manuscript. Publisher #1 flat-out rejected it. Seems it was “too wordy” and I “talked about myself too much.” Go figure. Thankfully, publisher #2 saw through my wordiness and propensity toward self-preoccupation and gave me a chance. (Just like my ol’ prof who recognized potential amidst all my fluff.) “Your writing is like a breath of fresh air,” the acquisitions editor at Harvest House told me. “Just trim your manuscript down to 73,000 words, and we’ll be good to go.” “Trimming” didn’t begin to describe the task that lay before me. I began to chop, cut, slash, and obliterate every word that wasn’t completely necessary. Then I did it again. And again. Forty thousand (40,000!) deleted words later, my book was ready for submission. So, when the fine folks at Inspire asked me, Girl-of-Far-Too- Many-Words, to share my story in 1,000 words or less, my first thought was, “Why, that’s not nearly enough room for all I have to say!” The Holy Spirit immediately nudged me and whispered, “It is, however, plenty of room for what I have to say through you.” God spends a lot of time nudging me. I’m always forgetting important lessons He’s taught me about how my writing relates to my walk with Christ. My words alone = meaningless fluff. Letting the Holy Spirit speak words through me = impacted lives. God doesn’t do fluff. His Word is beautifully written, yes, but very to-the-point. He doesn’t mess around. In fact, if He repeats something, it’s a matter of life or death importance. Nothing I write matters. Unless I have first sought God and asked Him to fill me with His Spirit. Any power my words take on is a direct result of answered prayer. This isn’t church-speak. This is real. Oh, the stories I could tell from both sides of the coin. Times I’ve left God out of the picture and relied on my own wit and wisdom. And times I’ve invited the Holy Spirit (begged Him even) to speak through me. Can you guess which times lives were touched and changed and which times I fell flat on my face? Plain and simple, I love to write. Just like when that Chariots of Fire guy said, “When I run, I feel God’s pleasure,” that’s how I feel when I’m scrawling words across a page or typing furiously on my keyboard. Marla Yoder Taviano ’97 with husband Gabe and daughters Nina, Olivia, and Ava b y M a r l a Yo d e r T a v i a n o ’ 9 7 Less is More 18 Fall 2006