Hello and Cello Strings (In a slightly rambling fashion)

Hello to you all. I am new to this little blog here and I am rather frightened at what I am about to do in this, my first post. I have posted my poetry in various sundry places within my little world for the public to see, such as in the Herald back in the days when it actually had a literary section, as well as maintaining a gallery of my work on a rather significant site known as DeviantArt, the home of thousands of artists of all shapes and sizes and abilities. I was also pleased that one of my poems made its way into that tiny, yet very endearing little arts journal that was published and distributed about campus at the end of the semester. Other than that, besides close friends and family, only a few classmates in my Creative Writing class and Professor Vandyke have really seen my writing, and even come close to critiquing it. (Not including online journaling like Xanga etc...) Hence, this is the first time I am opening the door to let my writing into a place where it will be absorbed by fellow writers and peers with a more critical eye then ever before.
For me, my writing is a part of me, an extension of my personality. As such, when it is criticized I struggle with the emotion of feeling like my soul is being criticized, even if said critique is done with the hope of bettering my writing skills. So it is, that I am going to begin the process, to better my writing by posting it here and when I do, strive to "divorce" myself away from it, as much as possible.
You here, who read my writing will know more about me then you may ever know in person. For I do better at this, then in literal conversation.
With all that being said, without much further ado, I shall post a random poem of mine, one my shorter ones, also one of my favorites.
One final thing, you might want to know is that I never write poetry in rhyme. I feel to restricted by it and I have not practiced it enough to be really good at it.
Alright then...

This poem is called Cello Strings. I was inspired to write it while attending a senior recital of a cellist from the Calvin College Orchestra. I also desperately want to learn to play cello someday. I wrote these words down on the back of the program during the recital, and this is where my thoughts took me:

Effortlessly,
fingers fly across the strings;
gently,
graciously,
dancing like a cat.

The bow caresses them
having union with wood.

The sound that comes forth
is soul-being.

I am in adoring love
with the intersection
of strings and fingers.

~Hollers

Obsessed with Sacrilege

One of the goals of this blog is for it to be a space where we writers can share our inspirations and ideas. Lately, my mind has been on fire with an idea or concept for a story. I’d like to share it.

Two weeks ago I began reading Chaim Potok’s The Chosen to my sister, Christa. I had read it the week before and knew that she would love it just as she had loved My Name is Asher Lev. Though it isn’t as artistically crafted, it is just as moving. After I finished that second reading I had an epiphany.

Since I entered university I’ve been trying to figure out what genre I’d write. In middle school I loved fantasy but I just haven’t felt like I was meant to write it, at least not right now. Science fiction, romance and mystery aren’t even options. Though I like creative non-fiction (like Donald Miller’s Blue Like Jazz and Anne Lamott’s Traveling Mercies) and will write some essays like that, I have still felt that there is a fiction writer in me lying dormant, waiting for direction. That night I got some of the direction I’ve been hoping for.

I want to be our (Christianity’s) Chaim Potok. What I mean by that is that I want to have stories that are related to the Christian faith but are also universally applicable. Fiction that was so compelling, that intellectuals with any spiritual or anti-spiritual leaning would be drawn to it. Since our religion is not so tragic nor are we such a sorrowful people I think it means that my books will have to be a bit apologetic and humble (well, in the faith aspect.) Since I’m most religious when sacrilegious I think that my narrator(or at least this first one that is growing in my mind) will be rather bitter. Some of the darkest aspects of me are going to come out in this first short story or novel, whatever it turns out to be. I’m going to do a lot of research this summer of our religion and religious writings and classical literature and eastern religions (with the exception of Islam, which will be written off since it is so antagonistic to females and my narrator will be a female with some feminist leanings.)

Any thoughts, comments or questions?