Tag: encouragement

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The Holy Work of Writing

Every year I host a faculty essay reading at my university for our collective entertainment. At the beginning of the semester, I choose and cajole a dozen colleagues from across the curriculum to write personal essays on a shared subject. Then, sometime around Thanksgiving, I invite the rest of the campus to come hear them read the resulting essays aloud. It’s always a fun evening, everyone feeling proud afterward of what they accomplished.

Though the selected essayists have composed entire dissertations of scholarly writing, most have never set out to write for entertainment alone, so getting them to do it necessitates pep talks from me along the way as well as a fair amount of collaborative back-and-forthing between them and the trusted readers I encourage them to seek out. When they report to me on how it’s going and, afterward, on how it went, my colleagues are bashful and sincere and loveably modest as at no other time in my interaction with them.

“I got my daughter—she’s in high school—to read through it and make sure it made sense,” a grizzled professor of engineering tells me.

Another tells me how, in the course of writing about a Picasso painting her autistic son loved but she didn’t, she kept asking him questions and managed, through these exchanges, to get a rare glimpse of the world from his perspective.

Yet another colleague makes an appointment with me after the reading to work on improving his essay even more. He takes away from our discussion an argumentation skill that he is still bringing up in meetings years later: that you can’t convince someone of a truth unless you show it.

That’s the part of the event I like the most—my colleagues’ accounts of the process of composition. It’s so thrilling to watch seasoned writers grow into better writers through the humbling practice of sharpening iron on iron. Hearing the essays read aloud—every one of them so good!—and then witnessing the enthusiasm with which their audience applauds their achievement—yes, very good!—confirms what I am always telling my students: that, we humans having been made in the image of our creative God, our practice of creativity is as holy as the exercise of any of God’s other traits. And as pleasurable.

It often makes me feel a little guilty that my work, both as a teacher of writing and as a writer myself, is so enjoyable. It hardly seems like work at all, much less holy work, as I have come to think of it. But when we write well—when, through our words on a page, we interest and engage an audience in what is true and lovely and admirable and excellent—we are performing the work of God.

When asked what God’s work is, Jesus says, “to believe in the one he sent” (John 6:29). Writing, and teaching others to write, helps me to believe ever more confidently in the One God Sent—through whom, says John, “all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made” (John 1:3 NIV). Good writing recreates, in words, what has been made through the Word and offers it up to others for their contemplation and enjoyment. What work could be more sacred?

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Stranglers or Wranglers? The Super Power of Encouragement

One of my all time favorite books, one that influenced both my writing style and my outlook on life, is A Touch of Wonder by Arthur Gordon. Gordon’s stellar writing peppered “Guidepost Magazine” with inspiration for decades. I remember happening upon the book in a seaside store, then finding a perfect spot on the beach to relax where, over the next two days, I read it from cover to cover. As the ocean waves rolled in the distance, I felt uplifted by true story after story filled with humor, struggle, love, and courage.

In one memorable chapter, Mr. Gordon told a story that created such an “Ah-ha of the Heart” for me that it helped form my basic writing philosophy. He wrote of a friend who belonged to a club at the University of Wisconsin many years ago. It was composed of several talented writers, all brilliant young men. They would each read their prose aloud, then take turns dissecting and criticizing each others’ writing so fiercely, they dubbed their writing group “The Stranglers.”

On the same campus, a group of women formed a writing group, calling themselves “The Wranglers.” But instead of dousing one another with criticism, they spent most of their time encouraging one another. They all left the meetings feeling inspired in their writing journey.

Twenty years after these two groups met, some interesting results were found. For all the brilliance of the writers who made up “The Stranglers,” not one member achieved any kind of literary reputation. “The Wranglers,” on the other hand, produced a half-dozen successful writers, including the Pulitzer Prize winning author of The Yearling, Marjorie K. Rawlings.

From this story I drew two convictions:

1. When choosing a writers’ group (or any support group for that matter), make sure that they lead with a positive spirit. Sure, you want honest feedback, but this can be done with grace in an atmosphere of encouragement. If the group has spiraled into nit-picking negativity, get thee to another group. That is, if you value your future as a writer.

2. Secondly, when you edit someone else’s writing, it is often automatic to skip the good writing and correct what is wrong, like the proverbial teacher with a red pen.  Because I accept this is how my editing brain works, I usually go through a writer’s chapter or manuscript or a proposal twice. The first time I highlight what needs to be changed to make it better. And then, I go back through and put smiley faces on the parts I like the best. You would not believe how writers love those smiley faces and how they make any critique go down easier.

In a little post-script to this story, I searched and found an address for Arthur Gordon, who was at the time quite up in years (he died in 2002 at 89), then wrote him a fan letter. He wrote me back on an old manual typewriter, saying how much he appreciated the bucket of encouragement, that this sort of reader feedback was fuel for his writing soul. I realized in that moment that no matter how old or accomplished a writer is, inside we’re all a little insecure and in need of positive feedback. A part of us is forever the child, giddy over a star or a sticker from the teacher.

So it behooves us to be positive and kind to each other in our critique. Not only does it make the writing life more fun, but in the long run, it also makes it more prolific and profitable.

What sorts of critique groups have you experienced? How did they make you feel? What kind of critique encourages you to excellence without throwing you into a depressing writer’s block?

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The Best Advice I (finally!) ‘Got’

I always hated it when writing instructors told me to 1) write what you know, and 2) follow a formula.  How, I wondered, could I write what I knew when I didn’t know anything interesting, and when the only formulas I remembered were from high school math class? I was pretty sure that wasn’t going to be much help in writing anything other than a final math exam.

Now, having finally decoded those two pieces of cryptic advice in the course of my own writing career development, I have only two words to share with would-be novelists: read and outline.

Read books (all kinds!), but also read everything you can get your hands on: newspapers, magazines, the backs of cereal boxes, newsletters, church bulletins. I even read vanity license plates, which inspired me to give one of my series characters distinctive car plates that have played into more than one mystery plot!

The purpose of all that reading is twofold: 1) you accumulate a storehouse of information about the world; and 2) you never know what word, image, or idea will catch fire in your writing process.  Reading feeds you with new material – like ongoing brainstorming.

As for reading books in all genres, I find it’s a great way to broaden my experience. I may not be an expert on scuba-diving or anti-matter research, or know one end of a knitting needle from the other, but if I’ve read about it, I at least have some familiarity with it. And if it might fit into something I’m writing, I can go back for more reading or research.

It wasn’t until I figured this out – that I didn’t have to be an expert about something to write it into a story – that I finally really understood why my teachers insisted you had to ‘write what you know.’ Write what you know – not necessarily what you yourself have experienced. What a relief to know I didn’t have to commit a murder to write about one!

The most important thing I ever did when I was writing my first novel, however, was to outline. And I’m not referring to the outline of my book, either (though I do work from a rough outline when I write). The outline that I found most helpful was the outline I made of my favorite author’s best-seller.

Yes, you read that right – I outlined a book by my favorite author.

It was a tedious task, to be sure, but by the time I finished that chapter-by-chapter outline, I knew more about pacing and plot development than I had ever learned from any teacher or class. My secret was to use a different color marker for each subplot, so that by the end, I had a notebook in which I could visually trace how story threads flowed together and how the notorious ‘red herrings’ of successful plots operated. Deconstructing a best-selling novel taught me how to write my own ‘formula.’

What are you reading/outlining today?

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Finding Rest in a Storm

For you are my hiding place; you protect me from trouble. You surround me with songs of victory. (Psalm 32:7 NLT)

As the autumn winds whispered through our oak trees, dropping the leaves across our yard, my husband Dan mentioned that we probably wouldn’t see any squirrels playing in the trees that day. “In fact, if the wind is blowing when you want to go squirrel hunting in our area, you might as well stay home,” he said. “A squirrel will not move far from his nest on windy days, so you’ll have a hard time bagging any.”

Squirrels. A squirrel knows when he needs to be still and rest—not because he’s tired, but because that is when he is most vulnerable to predators. When the wind is blowing, a squirrel can’t hear the other sounds around him—his instincts are blurred by the wind-tossed branches and leaves rustling.

Dan said the same rule applies to deer hunting in our part of the state. Deer tend to not move around much when they cannot use their God-given senses to protect them from predators.

Storms. I continue to learn spiritual lessons like this one from nature. When a storm is blowing all around me, I need to be still and wait. It can be dangerous to sail into a storm.

I’ve lived in Texas and Arkansas all my life, and we’ve survived many storms—tornados and hurricanes. It’s difficult to prepare for any kind of storm. I’ve run away from hurricanes, and I’ve hidden in our “safe place” during a tornado. But I’ve learned that I can’t stop storms from coming my way.

Shelter. How can I apply this truth to my writing life? I hope to remember this truth the next time that I face serious setbacks, paralyzing problems, chaotic confusion, or even aggravating attitudes. I can’t stop them. But I can choose to find a safe hiding place.

Learning to find a place of rest in the storms of life isn’t always easy. I’m tempted to keep trying to protect myself. But once again, God reminds me that He is my true refuge during the storms of life. And I’ve found His Shelter to be a great place to rest.

Where do you find shelter on a stormy day?

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Writing Life Survivor Tips

Photo/KarenJordanHow do you endure setbacks in your writing life? If you’ve embraced writing for publication, you’ve probably faced discouraging obstacles in your journey.

I’ve also faced a few stumbling blocks in other areas of my life, such as my health. After every health or family crisis, I struggle to get back on track with my exercising and walking program.

I discovered my desperate need for exercise after a minor foot injury last summer. As I climbed the very first hill on an asphalt trail near my home, my heart raced. I resisted the temptation to sit down at first. And by the time I made it to the top of that hill, I felt like I’d been walking over an hour. As I plodded on, in pain, the trail leveled. But I continued to struggle with each new hill.

Since I carried my camera, I paused several times to capture an interesting shot along the way. I only intended to walk for about 30 minutes. But when I checked the time, I discovered an hour had passed.

I learned some things about myself on the walking trail that apply to the other areas of my life, including my writing life.

  1. Recognize limitations and needs. I must allow myself the freedom to take breaks when I need them. I can cause more damage if I don’t stay off my feet with a foot injury. And in the waiting rooms of life, rest often provides what I really need the most.
  2. Keep going. Don’t quit when the journey gets tough. I need to remind myself of that truth, when the walking trail or the pace of my writing efforts becomes difficult.
  3. Set goals. It helps to have daily goals, even if I miss the mark or go beyond my goal at the end of the day or the project. When I planned to walk 30 minutes, I discovered that I could endure for an hour walk. If I forget to set some measurable goals in my writing life, I fail to recognize my progress.
  4. Enjoy the journey. When I walk, taking my camera along to capture a few of the scenes helps me enjoy the sights along the way and forget about the effort it takes to go the distance. In my writing life, connecting with other writers brings new friendships, insights, opportunities, and encouragement. Plus, choosing my topics and commitments carefully engages my creativity and serves as a motivating force when the writing process becomes overwhelming or difficult.
  5. Reward yourself along the way. The benefits from my walks and my writing life enhance other parts of my life. Of course, as my health improves, other areas of my life benefit, too. Also, my new photography interest contributes to our family albums, and my nature shots add some great content for my blog posts. My writing successes also increase my self-confidence and encourage me to keep going when the journey makes me weary.

What helps you survive your writing life when the journey gets difficult?

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Extravagant Subsistence: Restocking the Writer’s Shelves (and Soul)

Our freezer is nearly empty. We’ve eaten all of last year’s fish and meat, which constitutes a near emergency. Tomorrow I’ll close my computer, ignore my writing deadlines and head back out by bush plane and boat to an island in the Gulf of Alaska where I’ve worked in commercial fishing with my family for 35 years.  We were so busy with the commercial season this summer we didn’t have time to put up our own fish for the winter, the wild salmon that will feed us luscious Omega-3 saturated flesh weekly through a long season of dark. We also harvest berries, venison, halibut and sometimes caribou. Putting up our own food stores, which goes by the shorthand term “subsistence,” is a normal and necessary part of most people’s lives in rural Alaska.

“Subsistence” is defined  as “The action or fact of maintaining or supporting oneself at a minimum level.” In Alaska, however, where a subsistence lifestyle is as common as wool socks, it’s evolved into almost the opposite concept. We don’t hunt and fish and grow and harvest simply to live—we engage in subsistence to live well. We have access to cellophane-wrapped factory-farmed meat like everyone else—but it is expensive, saturated with antibiotics and hormones, and has been shipped a very long way to get here. We prefer to harvest wild-grown meat from our own piece of the land and sea. It’s one of the reasons we live here.

This last week I began another kind of subsistence: I started re-reading Gilead, Marilynne Robinson’s wise and extraordinary novel. Her profound musings on the worth of life, as spoken through John Ames, an elderly pastor, remind me how empty my writer’s pantry has become. The authors who have sustained me through the decades—Frederick Beuchner, Annie Dillard, Richard Wilbur, Eugene Peterson, Walter Brueggeman, Gerard Manly Hopkins, Emily Dickinson—have become strangers of late supplanted by blogs, social media, and research for other writing projects. These are all quick, short reads full of good information, but I’ve been achingly hungry without knowing it.

I realize that my writing life is little different than my food life. I’m often so busy on the commercial end of the work—the marketing, creating the next book proposal, the social media—that I forget to do the real subsistence work. While I’m as tempted as anyone else to spend my time feeding on strategies to garner audiences and master social media, ultimately, I’ll starve on such a diet. Fifty-seven Ways to Grow Your Platform, while helpful, will do little to awaken mystery, stir my imagination, provoke paradox, unearth wisdom, deepen my humanness, all of which is why I began to write in the first place. I realize if I maintain a steady diet of techniques, I’ll soon be setting an impoverished table for not only myself, but also for my readers, who come themselves needing sustenance.

Subsistence work is not easy. Rather than grabbing cellophane packages of meat and fish from the meat counter, I have to go out into boats, I have to use knives and muscles, I have to cut off heads, pull out guts, spill real blood.

It’s a physical engagement with the material world. Reading the best writers is not unlike this. It takes more effort to read longer works. Blood will be spilled there as well as we wrestle with the deepest, hardest and most profound stories of dying and living. But this is how we will subsist and be sustained as writers for a very long time.

When I sit down to my first meal of grilled salmon this winter, I will remember where it came from, how it felt in my hands. I will be so well-fed, I will want to write about it, and will set the table for others to join me in the feast. I hope my work will feed others as well as I have been fed myself. With some labor, and yes, some blood, it can happen.

What kind of reading are you returning to for “extravagant subsistence”? How can we make more time for this kind of reading (and for sustaining physical labor)?

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God-Given, Weird, Unexplainable–Joy!


For the last decade, I’ve prayed for God to give me a word to meditate and think on throughout the year. In 2010, the word was “peace,” and God used the word to convict and heal me of a tendency to worry.

In January 2011, I felt impressed to begin concentrating on the word “joy.” And like a pig-tailed toddler with a sweet tooth, I had pictures of God giving me presents. Maybe He would overwhelm me with material blessings (I entered the HGTV Dream Home giveaway several times, just in case). Perhaps He was going to provide a huge advance check for a writing project…or send me on a national television show to gain much-needed exposure for my blog.

As you can see, my thoughts leaned toward the selfish, temporary, and trivial. I’m so glad He knows what we REALLY need.

I won’t bore you with all the circumstances that hit our family in 2011. Suffice it to say, we were shaken and stretched in ways we never imagined. But in the midst of stressful moments–such as when my father underwent emergency triple bypass surgery–I felt peace, instead of fear. Not that I didn’t have moments of panic, mind you. But when worry showed up like a scorned lover, I took a deep breath and told him: “Get lost. I’ve got a new beau, and He’s not going anywhere.”

Mostly, it worked. 🙂

Just like the arteries near my dad’s ticker were bypassed by a skillful surgeon, my heart had been strengthened the previous year by God’s gentle scalpel of truth. I’m so thankful He tirelessly fought the stronghold of anxiety that had crept into my life.

Want to know something else? During 2011 and into 2012, God DID give me a present, wrapped in a great big, blood-red bow: weird, unexplainable  joy.

It is a spiritual gift, after all–just not one we talk about very much. My friend Megan says, “Joy’s not sexy, like wealth or prosperity. But it’s longer-lasting.”

I like that.

Joy means counting our blessings, both tiny and immense, while the world moans and heaves and believes all is lost.

Joy overcomes me when my eight-year-old cuddles with me and shows me his cursive practice. Joy warms my heart when my hubby texts me–because he misses me. And joy bubbles up when my teenager says, “I love you Mom!” out of the blue (it doesn’t happen often, believe me).

JOY is simply this: Jesus, at work in us, to do what we can’t do on our own.

There are many verses about joy, but one of my favorites is Psalm 28:7–“The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise him.” 

My heart has leaped as I’ve spent time with Him. And as I’ve learned to take joy in His presence, He has given me a few answers to the desires of my heart, as well. Those “hugs” from my Father have satisfied my desire to know He’s listening, while whetting my appetite for more of Him–not just His blessings.

As Neh. 8:10 says, “The joy of the Lord is my strength.”

It has been, and it will continue to be. I am praying the same for you.

Photo credit: hotblack from morguefile.com

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No Angry Rejection

Rejection—we’ve all experienced it. Some days, it seems to roll off our backs; and on others, we feel as if a knife just pierced our vital organs.

Maybe you’ve been shunned by a friend, coworker, or employer. Perhaps you’ve experienced an even deeper-cutting rejection by a spouse or a loved one.

As a freelance writer, I experience rejection of my ideas and projects on a regular basis. At times, it’s hard not to take the “no’s” personally. When I was trying to break into the book market (something that took five years of learning, growing, praying, and waiting—after several years of writing articles and stories for freelance markets), the multiple rejections got to me after awhile.

Even though I believed I was called to write, and felt obedient to God by pursuing that call, major discouragement set in for me when three of my favorite publishers turned down a nonfiction book proposal in one week. Ouch!

My husband, friends, and family encouraged me to keep going. And I wanted to—but my “fight” was running out. The rewards of risk just didn’t seem worth it anymore.

Then God gave me a gift—a passage from Eugene Peterson’s The Message (1 Thessalonians 5:9–24), at the precise moment I needed it. I hope it will minister to you as it did to me:

“God didn’t set us up for an angry rejection but for salvation by our Master, Jesus Christ…So speak encouraging words to one another. Build up hope so you’ll all be together in this…Be cheerful no matter what; pray all the time; thank God no matter what happens…The One who called you is completely dependable. If He said it, he’ll do it!”

Isn’t that awesome? Those verses remind me, first, that God is up to great things behind the scenes. He will never fail. That truth allows me to trust in His timing and to thank Him–yes, even for rejections. After all, as James Lee Burke once said, “Every rejection is incremental payment on your dues that in some way will be translated back into your work.”

Second, trusting in God’s timing and faithfulness builds up my hope, so that I can get back into the ring of life and keep fighting—for relationships, for a vibrant life, and for the ministry God has chosen for me.

Third, online and offline groups–like this blog–allow those of us who share a passion for writing to speak encouraging words to one another, so that we can press into our calling. In unity, without jealousy or envy, we can cheer each other on. Complete trust in the One who made us causes us to know that all Christian authors have a role to play, and that every single bit of success is good for the Kingdom.

Fourth, God’s complete acceptance makes me willing to keep living life fully, even when it’s risky. Though friends, family members, or publishers may reject me, Jesus never will.

I can rest in that.

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The Bookstore Blues

If you want to induce an anxiety attack in me, take me into a bookstore.

I’m not talking about doing a bookstore book signing, either. I’m talking about walking into a bookstore to browse, to wander aimlessly among the shelves, to read titles on spines and admire book displays. I stroll through the aisles, suddenly paralyzed by the enormity of talent that lays before me between book covers.

I’m terrified.

The reason for my reaction is that walking into a bookstore brings me face-to-face with what I am attempting to do with my writing career: competing with all the other authors out there for readers. It unleashes a storm of insecurities inside me.

Why would someone choose my book to read over all those others?

What value does my book have in comparison to the other thousand on the shelf?

Did I write a good story?

Did I write an adequate one?

Can anyone even find my book amid everyone else’s?

Who would be willing to pay money for it?

What was I thinking?!

And then I recall a pivotal conversation with a dear friend of mine, my mentor and an accomplished author in his own right. “You should write a book,” he said.

“I know,” I replied, voicing the nagging desire I’d felt for years. “But why would anyone want to read what I have to say?”

“Because no one else can say it in the same way as you will,” he assured me. “Every one of us experiences life in a way unique to us, and that’s what you’ll bring to the table. Whether it’s fiction or non-fiction, no one will tell it like you will.”

Encouraged by his confidence in me, I took the plunge and wrote a non-fiction book about personal spirituality. The first publisher who was interested in the manuscript wanted me to change the perspective to reach a different audience than I had originally intended; I wrote the book for adult Christians, but he wanted to revise it and aim it at adolescents. I did something that I now (as a much more experienced author!) marvel at – I told him “thanks, but no thanks.” I believed in the value of what I had written and for whom I had written it, and even if it meant I had to continue looking for a publisher, I would do it. Eventually, I did find the right house and the book was published.

And then I learned, the hard way, that I was almost solely responsible for marketing it.

I had no idea what to do. The book never took off, although it sold enough copies for me to savor being an author.

I vowed if I ever wrote another book, I would do it differently.

Differently may be an understatement.

Now I write fiction – both humor and suspense – and market aggressively. I love what I do, and I know that if just one reader enjoys my book, I’ll be glad I wrote it.

But I still try very hard to stay out of bookstores.

What keeps you writing when you think of your book afloat in a sea of competition?

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Advising New Writers Lovingly

Today I received an email from a freshly graduated student about a blog he’d been writing for the past two years that he wants to get published as a book. It was about being an only child—a topic I recommended he consider transforming into a memoir after he turned in a wonderful English 101 essay about growing up alone. Ever since, he said, he’d been writing. He included a link to the blog, clearly hoping—despite assurances to the contrary—that I would read it and somehow singlehandedly applaud it onto bookstore shelves.

This is the first of several such emails that I’ll likely receive this summer, in addition to similar requests I get from faraway former students, colleagues, and even total strangers during the school year. Would be writers email me. They show up in my office door, boxed manuscript in hand. They bribe me with lunch. But something about graduating—commencing Real Life, I guess—translates especially as the supreme opportunity to magically turn what have thus far only been vague dreams—of writing their memoir, of publishing a collection of devotions, of becoming a children’s author—into reality.

For me, though, summer is my big work-time as a writer. As soon as I get my grades in, I’m frantically writing away toward midsummer deadlines. In a little over a week, my college daughters will be coming home, and I’m embarrassed to say—though I love them both dreadfully and have been missing them ever since they returned to school after Christmas break—I’m dreading their return. The summer seems, for me, already used up, with all the things I need to get done during it, and I resent everything—even things I love best, like daughters and gardening—that takes me away from the computer.

So, I’m faced, as most writers are, with a difficult task I’ll probably never get exactly right: How to convey the reality of my summer (indeed, of my life as a writer)—that I have neither the time to read a single post, not to mention four years’ worth of blogging or a manuscript two reams thick, nor the power to circumvent for them or myself the arduous tasks of revising to make a book readable and securing an agent to get the thing sold—while simultaneously heartening and supporting those who, inspired by my own modest successes as a writer, want to follow in my footsteps?

The poet Rainer Maria Rilke models my ideal response in his Letters to a Young Poet. I would like to embody his kind voice and take time away from my own writing to compose letter upon letter of encouragement and advice to those who approach me for writerly advice. But Rilke was writing back before the internet made it possible for would be writers to readily locate and assault him with salvos of manuscripts and queries. And Rilke didn’t seem to have to do any other work in his life besides write poems. And poets write, after all, poems. Short pieces—shorter, quite often, than a single blog post.

I was also much impressed when, after a reading from her memoir, Ellen Gilchrist took on question after question from the would be memoirists in her audience, somehow validating every asker as a writer and spurring each one to keep at it, keep writing, keep sending things out, keep doing—or start doing—the hard, often fruitless but always rewarding work of getting one’s thoughts and stories onto the page and into others’ hands.

My advice, finally, is canned, as were perhaps Gilchrist’s comments at readings and maybe even Rilke’s advice—which was, after all, published in book-form for every wannabe poet to read. I have an email in which I detail the steps I myself took in seeking publication for the first time, and I send it out, slightly personalized, to each asker. I have a spoken version for office door and phone conversations. It’s easier to be kind and encouraging, I find, when I plan it out.

“No breakfast?”

Now, if I could just figure out a loving way to tell Lulu and Charlotte I’m too busy to make them the fantasy breakfast they’ve been dreaming of all semester…

What do you tell aspiring writers who come across your path or your email in box?