Like many of you creative writerly types, I have a new book or essay idea about once a week. Any casual observer will know when this happens. My eyes gain x-ray vision, I will wear mismatched clothes for a day or two. I’ll start pulling books from my library, organizing them into Useful Research Piles, and I create a new folder on my computer, into which I start shuttling and dumping uncountable necessary articles and links.
But it is not long before the writing deadlines I am already under reassert their authority. I follow meekly to my office to tending my previous fires that once sent me into fevers, but with a new light gleaming from my forehead.
Some of those gleams turn into books, essays, and blog posts. But some of them sputter into oblivion, snuffed out by the realities of life, the most pressing of which is—There Is Never Enough Time.
The question we all face is: Out of a plenitude of possibilities, yet with limited time and energy, what do we choose to write about? How do we decide?
The stakes are high. If it’s books we’re talking about, for me it’s at least 2 years of immersion in the writing, and then once the book is released, several more years follow of spreading the word. So I had better love it, believe it, and be willing to soap any box with its message.
How do we decide, then? I have followed a simple rule most of my writing life: TENDER YOUR “BURDEN OF WITNESSING.”
The phrase here is not mine. I’ve lifted it from Patricia Hampl’s wisest of words, “ . . . For we do not, after all, simply have experience; we are entrusted with it. We must do something—make something—with it. A story, we sense is the only possible habitation for the burden of our witnessing.”
What has God entrusted to you? What “burdens of witnessing” have been given to you? Start here. My first book of prose was about commercial fishing women, because there I was, in the midst of a life I was trying to live and understand, mostly unsuccessfully. I moved to memoir next, writing about my life on a wilderness island in Alaska, then onto other topics I had “witnessed”: motherhood, unplanned pregnancy, the spirituality of food, forgiveness of my schizoid father. I have never regretted a single project.
When you write as a witness from these hard places, you immediately avoid one of the greatest weaknesses of beginning writing, and even “successful” writing: writing without “mattering.” Over the years, I’ve met students and writers who can fashion beautiful sentences in their sleep—–but talent and beauty alone does not make them “matter.” Without heart, without an urgency that comes from deeply lived experience, your words on the page will only be words on a page. (And, take note: Because they matter to you doesn’t automatically make them matter to your readers. You must make them matter to the reader as well.)
There is yet another reason for doing this. And forgive me now for going sermonic on you, but I pull it out now because I know you are reluctant to excavate the stash under your bed and in your closets. One of the graces of believing in a God who inhabits the hearts of his people is the certainty that all events—celebrations, dirges, dangers, and feasts—come to us through His hands, and they are hands with purpose. They are hands that intend our trials to be tended and eventually tendered for the good of others. The New Testament spells out the program: God, who is the “God of all comfort,” comforts us in our troubles for this purpose, “so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” Pass it on, brothers and sisters.
Don’t worry if there’s blood. As Red Smith has written, “For my money anyway, the only books worth reading are books written in blood . . . “ [Red Smith].
Write about what you MUST write about. Write about what has been entrusted to you alone. Write about what matters most to you. Write about the things you cannot turn away from. Write about the hurt, the cheating, the doubts, the hopes, the comfort, the sickness. Our time is short—make it count.
Tender the witness you’ve been given.
18 Replies to “What Do I Write About? Tendering Your Witness”
Great article and advice. Thank you.
Reblogged this on Scorching Words.
Thank you! Appreciate it! May your words both tender and scorch as well!
Leslie, this is exactly what I needed to read today. My current project has received enough rejections for me to question whether or not it’s time to put it aside. But, it matters. The work matters. Thanks so much for this encouragement.
Kimberly, the work does indeed matter. It may matter so much, though, that you can lay it aside for a little while before you return to it. I often find that my certainty that a topic matters is seldom wrong, but I always have to let it cool off for awhile before I can do decent revisions. Hang tight with your topic, but don’t be afraid to let it breathe a little. If it does truly matter—you will return to it with the same energy, but with a clearer focus. Bon Chance!
Great truths beautifully expressed–thank you! I was reminded of my first book based on the loss of my third child at birth (almost full-term). Still amazed and grateful how God has used that book to pass on his comfort to grieving parents. I pray my current project will also be “for the good of others.”
Wow Judy. So sorry for your loss. And glad you were brave enough to write about it. I do think these books written in blood can bring life to others—-even out of death. And it always begins by bringing life to us first. Praying with you now that your current ms. will do the same! Thanks for sharing with us.
I love how writing is an amazing gift, offering a way for a writer to “gently” witness. Thank you for sharing Patricia Hampl’s words.
Thank you, thank you!
Leslie, thank you for so brilliantly articulating the reason why I haven’t been able to surrender the type of stories I write.
Elaine!! So–you do write them, but it’s hard to release them? First, good for you for writing the stories in the first place. That puts you way ahead of most. The next part—perhaps start out small—with letting a few close friends read your work? Or someone who has experienced something similar–and who might need and appreciate your words? I am certain there are others who will benefit from you work, Elaine. Trust the words (and witnessing) God has given you!
Oh Leslie, I have no problem showing my work Thanks for the encouragement to trust the words that God has placed in my heart.
… And the people shouted, “Amen!” Thanks for this inspiration to keep doing what I’m doing. Always love your posts.
Thanks so much Connie. Glad you’re already part of the choir—but even the choir can get hoarse sometimes! Thanks for reading!
Beautiful! And so very relevant. Glad you were moved to write about this today! (:
Thanks for reading, Rebecca!
this is excellent! thank u!
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