Matthew 3:11
King James Version
11 I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance.
but he that cometh after me is mightier than I,
whose shoes I am not worthy to bear:
he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost,
and with fire:
INTRODUCTION
Before I had given my heart and commitment to Jesus, I was a fast writer.
Now that I have, I could not believe that a factory had been set up inside me.
Since 25 November 2019, I had been writing short stories (fiction), and having Amazon publish it for me.
It’s been 22 days and so far, I’ve written 15 books (this is the 16th and a 17th just started), and there’s no stopping the process.
So, that’s how it is to be inspired by SPIRIT.
I’ve always known I’ve got TONS of books in my heart.
But it took a while to gather things together.
When you work with Spirit, your work has
to be exact.
And since all my writings now are based on SCRIPTURE, my work took on new life and power.
You can feel God’s power coursing through you when you SERVE Him.
So, I better correct it now, with regards to my title.
New age practitioners refer to another “spirit”.
I refer to THE Spirit of God, the “teacher of all things” – the one prayed for by JESUS to His Father, so we may be left with a “Guide” and “Comforter”.
The Bible also calls Spirit the “Holy Ghost”, and the “Advocate”.
What I love about the Bible is it’s very exact.
What I especially like about born-again Christianity, is its emphasis is on Bible study.
That’s what really got me here in the first place.
That you are led to the BIBLE alone.
Sure, there are many translations, many versions, many ministers, so you must let GOD speak to you through the BIBLE.
He did, with me, and I found myself jotting down notes, filling over three notebooks, and using up over three pens in the process.
And that’s just after having read a fraction of the 66 books of the Bible.
So, I focused on the Words of Jesus, then read Revelation, and the Books of Moses.
Each time I open the Bible – got a King James Version – many more treasures fill my heart with its knowledge and wisdom.
How I marvel at people who have read it several times!
I suppose, it’s no marathon reading the Bible.
It’s not orderly or linear, as well.
You pray, and then God leads you each day.
When you are called to serve (I volunteered), you will be awakened at any time of the day, and inspired to research, write, or study.
If this intrigues you, or excites you, then you have to keep reading this book.
The first few chapters will tell you how writing became a part of me, of how I deviated from the path for a long time, and of how I realized it’s who I really am – a fast writer – and finally embraced my gift.
Leila Casusi
17 December 2019
Chapter 1
NO
WRITER’S BLOCK
Sorry, everyone.
I know no writer’s block.
I write, and write, and write.
Give me one word, just one word, and out will spew volumes.
I can write all day, all night.
Spirit doesn’t wait.
Either you’re ready, or not.
Either you’re desiring of it, or not.
Conversationally, Spirit will only be there, if YOU’RE there.
It* senses your desire.
It* senses your passion.
It* senses your interest.
It* senses your love.
If you have writer’s block, perhaps you’re trying too hard.
Spirit is spirit.
It’s the unseen, the unknown, the unknowable.
The Spirit of God.
So, you must be ready – anytime.
As I have been, that’s why writing comes easily to me.
So easily, that I’ve written on so many notebooks, pads, and loose sheets of paper, even back fo receipts.
When Spirit’s around, you can be sure you’ll get GREAT ideas.
It’s just been 20 minutes, and I’ve written 434 words – easily.
The SPIRIT of GOD in me, did all that.
Effortlessly.
Chapter 2
DOING WHAT COMES NATURALLY
“Hypergraphia is a behavioral condition characterized by the intense desire to write or draw.”
-- Wikipedia
Writing essays came easily to me.
In high school, the English teacher would give us a “theme” and we were supposed to write about it.
How I loved these sessions.
Social interactions may not have come naturally to me, but I was a typewriter.
I could have written, non-stop.
But, we were just given an hour each class, so we packed it all in.
I was often finished ahead of time.
Yes, this writer was such a braggart, she almost nearly declared every time, after writing her essay, “Finished!”
And received astounded looks from her classmates.
But, of course, I tried not to show off too much.
Just that writing came so easily to me.
It was bad enough I was an ugly duckling.
It’s worse if I started showing off, and have to find my own pond.
The pretty girls didn’t want to have anything to do with me.
Too studious.
I was tolerated, because I could draw, write, paint, spell, and distribute letters.
They tolerated me so much, they allowed me to draw pretty flowers around the black board, using colored chalk.
I only learned I used to draw all that, from a rare reunion I attended recently.
Flabbergasted at my nerdiness, I could only mouth, “I did?”
And yes, I could write essays in school, and paint at home.
I doubt I ever showed my sketches, and paintings, to anyone at school.
They were images of beautiful girls.
The ugly duckling wanted to create beautiful images of girls.
And yes, I sure could spell, too.
It’d be funny if a writer couldn’t spell, right?
I had one ribbon showing I spelled really well.
What my classmates didn’t know was that this geek would “read” dictionaries – two LARGE books by Webster.
They also didn’t know I would read everything on sight – everything with the written word.
Such as my father’s medical literature – in medicine boxes, or as folders.
I read my mom’s local gossip magazines, which she carefully hid from my father.
Still, no place was safe from the writer’s prying eyes.
And when we’d travel out of town, with papa renting a car, I’d read ALL the street signs and billboards, even if they were few and far between in those days.
I was simply magnetized to the WRITTEN word.
I was not magnetized to the spoken word, for I shrank from such exhibitions.
I did not have the courage to speak on-stage, or in front of the class, and do a “Merchant of Venice –pound-of-flesh” thing.
I literally shrunk from such humiliating displays.
I tried that once, and my face became as red as a lobster.
Never again, I swore to myself.
And because I was a "woman of letters", I also loved distributing letters to my classmates.
Being secretary of the class each year, for four years, I was tasked to pick up the class record and letters from our pen pals.
For that few minutes I was distributing those letters to my classmates, I got my little taste of "power".
Which, of course, wore out within the day.
And I was back to my retiring, studious, word-loving, geeky self.
Chapter 3
A LOVE FOR BOOKS
Libraries were my sanctuary.
Under the table, as the instructors taught, was another sanctuary.
Nope, I did not hide my head underneath.
I hid my romance novel underneath.
Had I actually bought those books, Mills and Boon would have hit their monthly quotas.
I read two a day, as the teachers conducted their lessons.
I’m not sure they’re aware what I was doing.
If not, then I became pretty good at covert operations.
Writers are usually retiring people, with cats, and I was one, too.
We also love our privacy, and value our quiet time for thinking.
Our eyes only belie the life and activity that goes on in our brains.
The whole countenance doesn’t give anything away, that we’re probably promising novelists.
It’s always the eyes that have it.
I taught piano for beginners once in 2003.
The owner of the studio remarked at how much "activity" she saw dancing in my eyes.
She was also a nurse.
Probably tried figuring out what disorder I had.
Of course, being true to my writer-hood, I volunteered no information.
Writers are good observers.
How else can we write about anything?
We have a mental file cabinet, where we store ALL information we find compelling.
NOTE:
*You may have noticed how I referred to SPIRIT as "IT".
So very wrong there.
But this was written on 17 December 2019, when I was but a three-month baby Christian.
Of course, on 31 May 2020, SPIRIT taught me WHO HE WAS.
And I'm forever grateful.
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