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Remember in the Dark

“Don’t forget in the darkness what you learned in the light.”

I first read that quote (originally by Joseph Bayly, it appears) in Circles of Seven by Bryan Davis. At least that’s where I think I read it. It was so long ago that time and frequent recollection have blurred out the quote’s origin. But the truth of it remains clear in my heart.

I’ve been grateful to live a pretty amazing twenty-two years so far. I can’t say I’ve had a hard life; all I have to do is look around and see countless people with struggles more difficult than my own. But not one of us slips through this world unscathed. We all weather storms of varying magnitudes. I, too, have faced looming shadows and endless valleys.

And it is in the midst of the darkness that we forget.

It’s easy to remember in the light. It’s easy to recall the truth of who we are and the truth of the God we follow when the reminders are as warm and near as the sun shining on our faces. But when night falls, oh, how quickly we forget. We panic, groping blindly for a corner in which to hide. We cry, fear clawing up our backs. We stumble on, wandering and getting lost in the blackness. We forget so quickly that we are children of light.

But faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. Did you get that? Faith is the substance and evidence of what you cannot see. It’s the paradox of holding an intangible thing, of perceiving what is not immediately visible. It is real. It’s not some wayward fancy. It’s not a lure-less hook tossed into the sea in the mere hopes that it will catch a fish.

It is real.

When you go to bed at night and flick off the lights, does that mean your room ceases to exist because you can no longer see it? Of course not. Sight has nothing to do with the existence of a thing. It is there regardless of whether you see it or not. But it takes a steady belief to remember that when the lights go out and your eyes fail you.

Memory is a fickle thing. Is it just me, or do you ever look at something to memorize it–be it a review sheet at school or a book cover or a name or a number or a recipe–and forget it two minutes later? “What was that again?” And you go back to check. This kind of repetition is what we need in the moment we’re plunged into shadows, when our minds go blank and the fear wells up. Go back and remember. What was it you learned in the light? What was it you saw and felt and knew? Isn’t that true today, right now, even if you don’t see it in front of you? Go back. Remember. Remember. Remember.

What was true in yesterday’s sunrise is true in today’s midnight. And it will still be true when the sun rises again.

I’m still standing here // No, I didn’t disappear // Now the lights are on // See, I was never gone

(Never Gone by Colton Dixon)

When He feels far away, He is near, as close as He’s ever been. When everything crumbles around you, there is a rock beneath your feet. When confusion clouds your mind, you will hear a voice behind you saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”

“Your word is a lamp for my steps; it lights the path before me.”

(Psalm 119:105)

The thing is, you can see that light if you choose to. It’s on a different frequency than the physical light around you, and sometimes it takes a focused effort on your part to switch to that frequency, to see with eyes of faith. But it’s there, and it’s real. The unseen really is more real than what is seen.

So today, dear soul, wherever you are and however dark it may be, never ever ever EVER forget what you have learned in the light. Hold it close to your heart. That candle will erupt into a torch, and then a burning wildfire, before long.

What Lies on the Horizon

This new year is something I’ve been thinking about a lot. Not just in terms of goals and resolutions, but in terms of where my heart is and what lies on the horizon. And it’s finally time to catch some of those whirring, buzzing, humming fragments of thoughts. Time to string them together into something to share with you, because I’m a firm believer in the strength we can find in each other’s journeys. I wouldn’t blog if I didn’t think that somehow, some way, the tangling threads of our stories matter to each other.

Last January, I set some lofty goals, writing-wise. (You can see them in detail HERE, if you’re so inclined.) Another thing in which I am a believer is the value of looking forward to set goals, and looking back to see how far you’ve come. So before we look ahead, let’s pause and turn around for a moment.

2017 goals

Finish the first draft of The Prophet’s Key. Nope. Didn’t make it. But I added 17,000 words to the rewrite I’d started in 2016, bringing the total word count up to 100k. I ground to a halt there, realizing just how bloated and huge the story was becoming. A course correction was needed, but at that point, leadership college was ramping up like crazy and I decided to put the project aside.


Began expanding The Brightest Thread into a novel. Check!


Go to Realm Makers. Another check! That was an incredible dream come true, one I hope to see come true again this summer.


Write, edit, and submit a story for Rooglewood Press’s contest. Surprisingly, check again. Mirrors Never Lie is on some judge’s desk right now, I imagine.


Complete the first draft of The Brightest Thread and do a round or two of edits so that it’s poised to move forward (aka maybe get published) in 2018. First draft–check. A round or two-ish of edits earns another check. And is the novel “poised to move forward” now? I’d say it’s poised to move into another round of edits, that’s for sure, and then . . . well, we’ll get to that in a minute.


Finish The Creative Way writing course by Ted Dekker. Um . . . no. This kept getting pushed back due to one reason or another, and I still have a handful of lessons to complete.


Possibly begin querying agents for TBT. I dipped my toes in the water by pitching it at the Realm Makers conference, but subsequently sent it to beta readers, knowing the novel needed more work. So querying didn’t happen last year.

All in all, four out of seven, plus some progress on a couple of uncompleted goals, isn’t bad!
Here’s where I would turn my hopeful attention toward this year’s list of aspirations . . . But again, we’ll get to that soon.
The past two Januarys, I’ve set aggressive timelines for my writing goals. And there is a place for those kinds of plans. I don’t regret pushing myself past my limits. Yes, I danced on the edge of burnout some weeks, but I learned valuable lessons about pacing myself, working hard, writing when the inspiration is gone, working under deadlines, juggling responsibilities, and what healthy (and unhealthy) creative practices look like. It was great!
But this year, I’ve realized I need to recognize what season of life I’m in. I am a student. And I won’t be in school forever, so rather than resist the demanding schedule and the responsibilities, I want to thrive. That means balance. That means reframing school from a burden into a passion. That means taking care of myself by carving out pleasure reading and making sure I get enough sleep. That means soaking in time with family and saying yes to friends when I can (instead of no, sorry, I’m busy, come back when I graduate).
But the biggest dream I have for 2018, the one thing that I am finally allowing to overshadow everything else . . . is my friendship with God.
It’s a little crazy, how even a year of Bible/leadership college didn’t cause me to become more intentional about spending time with Him. I read my Bible every morning because we were given class time for it–which was so good, don’t get me wrong–but the habit somehow didn’t transfer to my home life. In fact, ever since leaving high school and wading into the big, wide world of adulthood, I feel like my devotion time has been irregular.
But busyness is a lousy excuse. (And please, before I go further, don’t take this as a guilt trip for yourself! I simply want to be honest with what’s been going through my head lately!) I am a quester, a pursuer, a dreamer, and a doer by nature. Give me a goal, and I will plot, list, track, and work my way toward it, for better or for worse. (This is not always a positive, guys.) But being a doer is little good if I’m not doing the right things in the right order. If I can devote myself to a novel I’m writing and show up day after day even if the well runs dry, can’t I put the same energy into flipping open my Bible every day?
Yet this is about more than doing–although I do want to redirect that trait–this is about a relationship.
This is about Jesus being the first name on my lips in the morning and the last thought before I fall asleep.
This is about a dialogue with my Creator, the Lover of my soul.
This is about looking for Him in the everyday moments.
This is about being aware that He is here, always, and even if emotions run their own course I am never cut off from His love.
This is about a single-minded, single-hearted pursuit.
This is about seeking one kingdom above all others, and yet–
I don’t know how to get there. I want to, badly, but it’s not something you work up on your own or even work towards at all. It’s less about my hands doing something, and more about my heart doing something. The only labor involved is that of laboring to “enter into that rest.”
What I know right now is that every time I have hungered for more of God and cried out for a deeper knowing of Him, He has responded. And every time, all it took was asking . . . and then putting one foot in front of the other with my eyes open for an answer. Another thing I know right now is that I miss digging into the Word.

And those two things I know for sure? They’re interconnected.
So my planning/listing/doing side is happy to have discovered a really cool Bible reading plan in the back of my new copy of The Voice translation. It’s a plan that takes me slowly through the Bible in three years instead of one. That’s exactly what I need right now, just a quiet, thoughtful walk through Scripture. It’s not even chronological–in the past two weeks, I’ve dipped in and out of Genesis, Job, Psalms, and Proverbs. This plan takes up only 40 weeks a year, leaving time to investigate some suggested readings for Easter and Advent. So it’s not a high pressure thing, and so far I’m loving it.
I’m journaling as I go, just jotting down whatever means something to me today, rather than trying to encompass everything as if I’m writing a scholarly essay. I’m rediscovering glimpses of this great narrative God has been weaving throughout history, and I’m stumbling upon little bits of it that are woven into my own life today.
Am I a changed person? Am I on some spiritual mountain right now? No. But this is slowly, surely being built into a habit, and I hope that the more I do it, the more it will pervade my thoughts and attitudes throughout the day.
It’s a simple thing: seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things–all these dreams and lists and goals–will be added to you. This year, I want to actually try that, and not just fool myself into thinking I’m already doing it.
If you’re anticipating some grandiose announcement of a hiatus, that’s not coming! I’m not scrapping anything entirely, just shifting some priorities around. Like I said, I need to give myself room to enjoy my school studies and get back into a regular daily time with God.
So for the next few months, writing is taking a backseat. It’s not out of the car entirely, but it’s not the driver right now. Here’s what I’m aiming for:
January-April: Slowly start organizing the beta feedback on The Brightest Thread. Possibly start working on a secret project I hinted at a couple months ago, which is still stewing in my mind. Possibly try my hand at some flash fiction to submit to magazines and whatnot. I’m giving myself the freedom to be sporadic and to take time off whenever needed. This is going to be playtime, not work time.
May-August: Edit The Brightest Thread. Assemble a list of literary agents and actually start querying. Attend Realm Makers in St. Louis (hopefully!!!) and pitch TBT again there. Finish The Creative Way course. Get that secret project off the ground for real. Maybe even make some tweaks to the blog to spiff it up and make it look more professional. It’ll be summer, which means there will be time to power through some goals!
September-December: Totally depends on how the previous goals are going. Likely, I’ll continue querying TBT, working on the secret project, and who knows? I might even be in a good spot to start casually planning my next novel. I’ll be back in school, so I may ease off a bit again, though.

that’s our heart-to-heart for today, friends.

I kind of hesitated to talk about the deep stuff, because I know things like prayer and devotions are highly personal (and I’ve been guilt-tripped by well-meaning writers and bloggers before, which I wanted to avoid here), and maybe you’re not into that to begin with . . . But I think it’s a good and healthy thing to be honest with each other. We’ve all been through dry spells, all struggled to form good habits in this area. And I couldn’t talk about my writing goals without talking about why my approach is different this year.

What are YOU aiming for and dreaming about for 2018? Big or small, deep or more superficial, I’d love to hear it!

Wonder in the Ordinary

[image via Pinterest; graphic mine]

I’ve been moving too fast to think much about Christmas–I mean really think about it, settle into the Scriptures, stare out the snowy window, and journal whatever comes to mind. I plan to make time for that soon. In the meantime, though, a single thought has nestled into my heart. A tiny thought. Not a new thought or flashy thought, just a true one. In fact, this little thought starts with a single word:

ordinary

After being repeated for millennia, the Christmas story is sometimes glossed over like a too-beautiful-to-touch trinket we bring out once a year to place on a shelf where we can admire it from afar. At times I forget how very humble, tangible, and imperfect it all was. How very ordinary.

Mary, an ordinary young woman. She was probably going about her wedding preparations like any other fiancée at the time would have done. Maybe she was planning the feast or washing dishes or sweeping the floor when an angel interrupted her ordinary day and dropped life-shattering news into her lap.

Joseph, an ordinary young man. Also preparing for his upcoming wedding. Startled by Mary’s news that she was pregnant, of all outrageous things. And then an ordinary night gave way to a decidedly extraordinary vision confirming Mary’s words.

A census. A dusty travel, uncomfortable and inconvenient. (Surely we’ve all been there? Road-weary and impatient and wanting nothing more than a meal and a familiar bed?)

A stable with ordinary animals, ordinary stink, ordinary cold. Nothing special about it at all, except for the baby born inside.

Shepherds–oh, the shepherds. I’ve always been fascinated by them most of all. These men weren’t all that high on the social ladder. I don’t imagine they made much money at their jobs. Just think–long hours out in the elements. Smelly, bleating sheep all around. Sore feet in worn sandals. Only the stars above their heads as they stared blearily into the darkness, trying to stay awake and watch for predators. I’m sure this particular nightly watch looked and felt and smelled much like any other, with the same old frustrations, little pleasures, and predictable routine. It was an ordinary night. Perhaps boring. Quite likely unremarkable.

That is, until the heavens exploded with light and song and the kind of news that drives you to your knees.

Emmanuel–God with us.

After half a millennia of utter silence between God and man, even the staunchest believer might have wondered if the faith of their history was little more than a fairy tale, or if God was ever planning to speak again. Maybe He’d moved on. Lost interest. Shut mankind out. Forgotten the rescue He promised.

But no, not even close. On this ordinary night, above an ordinary field, an indescribable army of angels sang of the long-awaited Answer.

I have to smile at what the first angel announcer said: “You will know you have found Him when you see a baby, wrapped in a blanket, lying in a feeding trough.” (Luke 2:12, the Voice)

He didn’t announce a king or conquering warrior. He didn’t point the way toward a coronation ceremony or a battlefield or a palace or even a busy corner of the city.

The angel sent the shepherds to look for an inconspicuous newborn, wrapped in a definitely not new blanket, sleeping in a rough-hewn, straw-filled feeding trough. A kid in a barn. That was Jesus: fresh from heaven, expelled into an ordinary, messed up world fighting to hold onto hope.

And that’s when the ordinary was never the same again.

This Christmas might not be anything special for you this year. It might look the same as it’s always been. Maybe it looks a little gloomy this time around. Maybe it’s good and happy. Whatever the case, chances are it’s a fairly ordinary Christmas. But keep your eyes open for a glimmer of the extraordinary–a glimpse of majesty, a flicker of awe-inspiring wonder–nestled in amongst the trimming of just another day.

Because the ordinary is exactly where you’re living right now, and it’s exactly where Jesus loves to meet you.


Merry Christmas, dear souls! He is God with us indeed.


P.S. Currently listening to Brandon Heath’s The Night Before Christmas, which fits pretty nicely. I won’t be active online for the next couple of days, but afterwards I’ll be back to reply to comments!

Writing from a Healthy Place: 8 Ways to Rediscover Your Balance

Write from a healthy place.




That’s a phrase you may see kicking around the vast array of writing blogs now and then. But what does it really mean?

For the past seven months, I’ve been thinking about that concept–ever since last spring when I dove headfirst into a writing frenzy, trying to get The Brightest Thread written in time for the Realm Makers conference. I’ve written under deadlines before, but that self-imposed deadline was one of the hardest I’ve faced. In three months, between thirty-hour work weeks and chores and family/friends and blogging, I turned a 20,000 word novella into a 70,000 word novel, and edited it once or twice.

I don’t say that to brag (because goodness knows there are faster writers out there anyway), just to explain that by the time Realm Makers finished, I was ready to collapse.

Now, I’m glad I made that ambitious goal for myself. I really am. But there were days–even weeks–along the way that I was near burnout. Even though I loved the story, I wasn’t loving the writing. In fact, as I thought back to the novel I’d been writing before TBT, I realized I wasn’t loving that writing either.

I had to do something different! This wasn’t the way the writing life was supposed to go, at least not forever. The stress, the perfectionism, the stalling, the obsessive fixation on word counts, the constant drive to write, write, write . . . it didn’t feel healthy at all.

So that got me thinking. What would healthy writing look like for me?

Like I mentioned, this post has been simmering in the back of my mind for months, so there’s lots I want to cover with you today! But before we begin, start imagining the answer to that question: what does healthy writing look like for you?

Here are eight ways I’m currently trying to rediscover my balance as a writer.



picture via Pinterest; graphic mine

1. A healthy writer works under pressure, not stress.

I love goals. Love ’em! Give me alllll the deadlines and deliverables and tracking methods and checklists, especially when it comes to something I love (like writing). I’m the kind of person who thrives off the satisfaction of seeing things GET DONE. And the truth is, if I didn’t set goals for myself, I doubt I would get much writing done at all.

Putting pressure on myself to push, grow, and achieve is a good thing. Right? Right . . . as long as I have the right mindset. If that deadline causes panic, if that striving is festering with doubt, if the pressure is born out of fear–then I’m a stressed writer. And stressed writers can’t keep up their frantic pace forever without crashing and burning.

Someone wise once told me long ago that two people could be under the exact same difficult circumstances, but their REACTIONS will determine whether or not they’re stressed. Stress isn’t the circumstance. It’s your reaction to it. And really, stress is just low-key fear. Fear that you’re not good enough, fast enough, whatever enough.

Hey, all you lovelies participating in NaNoWriMo this month? You’re under a lot of pressure! Writing 50k in a month isn’t easy. And you may be looking around at others who surpassed the 50k mark days ago, and lashing yourself with a whip to keep up. Or you may be thinking about the faster pace you kept during last year’s NaNo, and doing the same whip thing. NOT GOOD, FRIEND.



Rather than letting the pressure cripple you, choose to manage it. Recognize that your worth isn’t tied to your word count, writing goals, or ability to string sentences together. Then view the pressure as a challenge you’re capable of beating.

And you know what? If you don’t beat it, that’s okay. No writing effort is a waste, and I’ll bet you’ll have fascinating war stories from the writerly battlefield at the end of it all!

2. A healthy writer tries new things and isn’t afraid to fail.

The way I reacted to my self-imposed pressure last summer was to get stressed. And when I was stressed, I was afraid of all things NEW.

I spent so much time trimming my novella down to a lean, mean 20,000 words. What if these new subplots I’m now adding are just fluff?

[via Pinterest]
I’ve never written about nightmarish creatures like these before. What if this new dark side to the story is totally ruining it?

It’s taking a lot longer for my protagonists to get to know each other than it did in the old version. What if this new length is slow and boring?

WHAT IF I’M WASTING MY TIME?



Even last winter, as I started rewriting my dragon/portal fantasy/YA novel The Prophet’s Key, all the new things I was writing scared me. I doubted my ability to handle a large cast, doubted the strength of the story, doubted the balance between fantasy world and earth, etc.

But when you write from a healthy place, you know when to take the pressure off. (Yes, there’s good pressure and bad pressure.) You know it’s okay to set aside all expectations and just try something new for the heck of it. Will you mess it up? Probably! But that’s what first drafts–or rewrites–or edits–are for! The great thing about writing is that it’s not at all like brain surgery. You don’t have to get it right the first time.

So stop being afraid of failure, and just write that crazy, new, wonderful idea. On that note . . .

3. A healthy writer writes in his grow zone, not danger zone.

A year ago, my leadership college class spent a weekend at camp doing team-building activities, learning to trust each other. One thing I learned there is that everyone has three zones: your comfort zone, your grow zone, and your danger zone.

If you’re not trying new things like we just talked about, you’re safely within your comfort zone. And it’s okay to be there–just as long as you’re not there all the time.

On the other hand, if you’re pushing, pushing, pushing yourself to write nonstop; or if you really have bitten off more “newness” than you can chew and the crumbling failure is making you depressed or anxious about writing . . . you’re working out of your danger zone.

See, in your comfort zone, you can’t fall. You’re steady. In your danger zone, you’re overextended and unbalanced, and a fall can be damaging. But the happy middle, your grow zone, is where you’re pushed just enough to keep growing, but not so far that you can’t bounce back when things go haywire.

Know your limits. Push them–please do! But don’t hurl yourself headlong at a limit that you know is a brick wall.* A concussed writer can’t write well. And we want you writing, okay?

probably don’t throw yourself at mirrors either please

*At least not yet. You may very well smash that wall to smithereens sometime down the road–but it will be when you’re ready.

4. A healthy writer paces herself.

“Write every day!” they chant. “One thousand words a day! Five thousand! WRITE A NOVEL IN A MONTH. EVERY SINGLE MONTH OF THE YEAR. GO!”

Hey, if you have fingers of steel and a crazy active imagination and all the time in the world, go for it! But a lot of us . . . just aren’t that fast. At least not all the time. While a consistent writing habit is a necessity for those wanting to get published–and a nice discipline to cultivate for hobbyist writers–the logistics can and should look different for each person.

[via Pinterest]
Some of you write a novel in a month (okay, a lot of you do that during November!). Some of you take years. Some write thousands of words a day, sometimes thousands of words in an hour. Some of you produce a paragraph here and there, then take a week to ruminate on the story’s direction.

All of those are valid.

You know your schedule, the best time of day to write, how much percolating time your ideas need, how many other things are taking up space in your brain. You know you. So take all those posts and articles about writing every day with a grain of salt. Writing in your grow zone has a lot to do with learning how to pace yourself!

And you know what? Your pace will not stay consistent all your life. There will be times when you can go faster and harder–times when you certainly should. There will also be seasons when you need to relax, fit writing in where you can, and not worry about the slow progress. If you’re in this for the long haul, you can’t afford to run yourself ragged.

(My pal Savannah just posted yesterday on the importance of taking a break! Check it out!)

5. A healthy writer reads.



Yeah, yeah, you hear this one all the time. That might be because it’s true!



You need to keep your creative tank full! That may include inspiring music, your favorite shows, movies with great storylines, enjoying nature, looking at art, spending time on other creative hobbies besides writing, etc. All of those things can keep the pump primed. But reading is unlike all the others in that you’re absorbing how another author puts words together, builds a plot, reveals character–ALL OF IT. A strong reading habit does wonders for your own work, especially when you read widely and deeply!

6. A healthy writer invests time in learning the craft.

Do you ever get so caught up in writing that it all starts to sound the same to you? It starts to feel dull, uninspired, unoriginal, and suspiciously like everything else you’ve ever written?

It might be you’ve forgotten to keep learning. The more you learn, the more you find out how much you don’t know! Find yourself some books on the writing craft. Read quality blogs written by people further down the road than you. Talk to other writers of all ages, in all stages of the journey. Ask authors questions. (They’re busy people, but a lot of them seem to love helping other writers!) Go to a conference if you can. Find a critique group, online or in person–because the truth is, even the very best writers need feedback so they can work on their blind spots. Whatever you do, find some ways to invest in yourself! Your writing will thank you.

And as you’re filling yourself with more knowledge, make sure to put it into practice. (Going back to trying new things again!) A lake with inflow and no outflow grows stagnant very quickly.

7. A healthy writer is on an adventure.

You’d think that a girl with a blog named Adventure Awaits would be a thrill-seeking, danger-loving, Middle Earth-walking, questing sort of person. (Well, you might think that. Or you might think it’s the most unoriginal name for a blog you’ve ever read, and you may not be far from right.)

Truth is, I really am a hobbit at heart, quite content to stay in my little hobbit hole where things are warm and familiar and quiet.

I get that way about my writing more often than I should. Because if all I write is what’s easy and familiar to me, that gets boring. Sometimes I’m blessed with a proverbial Gandalf to give me a kick in the pants, but oftentimes, I have to be my own Gandalf. There are adventures to be had!

And yes, this sounds a lot like number 2 all over again–but it’s more than trying something new. It’s having fun while doing it. Why do you write? Maybe there are too many stories in your head yelling to be let out, so you write for release. Maybe it’s a hobby to keep your mind sharp. Maybe you have lofty dreams of changing the world with your books one day. But I would hope that most of you–all of you–write because you enjoy it.

I love writing. I love the worlds I get to create, the countless journeys on which I embark, themes I explore, the characters whose stories weave with my own. Yet so many times, I slip into an unhealthy place where I stop loving it.

Why on earth would I knowingly do that to myself?

So here I am, giving myself and each of you permission to HAVE FUN.

Figure out what you love to write. My friend Christine had a great tip in her most recent Beautiful Books post. (Definitely check out her blog, Musings of an Elf, if you haven’t yet!) She said, “Don’t forget to write the things you love.”

It’s silly, but I DO forget to add in my favorite kinds of characters, plot elements, and twists. I even forget to write the kind of scenes I love, because I can get so wrapped up in structure and rules and doing it right. So let’s make the most of every story! Let’s write about the things that make our hearts beat faster and our fingers fly over the keyboard and our minds take flight!

Write an adventure, dear soul.

(If you need some inspiration to start figuring out what you love to write, here’s my own list.)

8. A healthy writer covers it all in prayer.

[via Pinterest]
I try to remember to breathe a little prayer every time I sit down at my keyboard. I also have a document set aside in which I sometimes write out those prayers, just to leave a permanent record that can encourage me in the future. Because if I truly believe that God is interested in my life and in my writing–that He in fact wants me to write–then why wouldn’t I include Him in that process?

You don’t have to go it alone. When you’re struggling over a plot knot, or stumped about your next chapter, or lacking motivation–talk to God about it. When you’re fangirling over your own characters, excited about that super intense scene coming up, or breathing a sigh of relief over finishing a project–celebrate it with God. He cares.

And He’s kind of the most creative being in the UNIVERSE, so do you think He might be able to help you through your writing predicaments? Um, how about YES.

If you’re like me, the writing life is inextricably tied to your spiritual life, your “real” everyday life, and your emotional life. Why can’t Bible verses like these apply to your writing?

As the deer longs for streams of water, so I long for you, O God. (Psalm 42:1)


He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord. (Psalm 40: 3)



For everything comes from him and exists by his power and is intended for his glory. All glory to him forever! Amen. (Romans 11:36)


So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and immovable. Always work enthusiastically for the Lord, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless. (1 Corinthians 15:58)



And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns. (Philippians 1:6)


For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength. (Philippians 4:13)

I could go on and on. The point is, if writing is part of your life, it’s part of God’s heart. Hold to that. Hold onto Him.

This post grew long, but I hope that something in here will nudge you one step closer to writing from a healthy place. Your writing is worth it. You are worth it.

For convenience’s sake, here are the 8 ways to rediscover balance listed all together. I’m taking a page from Deborah O’Carroll’s book (link leads to a fantastic post on 12 tips for depressed writers), and sharing a graphic: