“Be yourself” has been ingrained in our heads thanks to social media and graphic T-shirts. We all love books, movies, coffee mugs, and anything else that inspires us to live out those two words. But the application can be complicated, and oftentimes we end up being an...
When you sit at your desk and take up your pen, you’re centered on the act of being a storyteller. You bring to bear all the skill and experience you’ve accumulated. But what about the moments when you aren’t shaping settings and characters? What mindset fills your head?
Writers tend to be reluctant to show their work to others. We’ve all hovered our cursors over the send button for longer than necessary. Maybe we even changed our minds and closed the window. Why is this simple act so difficult?
When I began writing on a regular basis, it was more of an exploration than a process for me. I’d sit down with a vivid scene idea and let my characters lead moment by moment, without considering how events should form a chain. My imagination had no limits.
A new story is hard to write. And generating ideas to fill it is even harder. When you’re staring at a blank page, Solomon’s words in Ecclesiastes might haunt you: “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.”
Fear is beneficial for the warrior. When the earth was younger, fear motivated people to fight lions and giants to protect themselves or loved ones. Today’s writers are no longer battling beasts with spears but blank pages with pens. Like our brethren of old, fear can strengthen us, helping us to honestly evaluate our work and aim for excellence.
People often ask me how I manage to be a mother, pastor’s wife, and writer all at once. My answer is that I don’t. I’m human, with only twenty-four hours at my disposal, and I need sleep. Without it, I become a scary zombie mommy!
When was the last time you were bored? During my childhood, those who dared utter the forbidden phrase “I’m bored” were saddled with a chore or two (or three). Boredom is often viewed as idleness, and the solution is to fill that void with productivity. What if I told you that, as a writer, boredom holds an advantage?
I used to avoid nonfiction—in both reading and writing—until I discovered that creative nonfiction employs literary techniques usually associated with fiction. How could this be? And would trying it expand my skills?
Last February, I contracted a severe case of creative block. Inspiration seemed to pack its bags and depart for an unknown region. Everything I wrote sounded wrong, and artistic feats became a struggle. I couldn’t craft a poem, paint a canvas, or sketch a character! I’d never experienced such a widespread form of mental paralysis before.
