Is it a Puddle or a Lake?

I thank God for blogging friends. When I lived in DeKalb, I created a critique group at my church. My writer's group buddies were always there for feedback and encouragement. They kept me going when I wanted to stand still and stare at a blank page. Now, fellow bloggers slog through with me and, without even realizing it, give me the gumption and motivation I often lack.

Today, was a good example. My blogging friend, Amy, provided this intensely insightful post which is resonating with me deeply. She is expressing the very things my heart and soul have been struggling with for the past several weeks.

A few weeks ago, I read a novel written by someone I know. It was self-published. I read the book as a critic and it was not above criticism. In fact, I dare say it would never have appealed to a traditional publishing company. It held great promise, but had several weaknesses.

Those weaknesses taunted me. I found myself awash in self-doubt. This writer obviously put forth his best effort. I wondered if my best efforts are rife with weaknesses I cannot see. Is the time and effort I pour into my writing of any value?

Essentially, I questioned my own talents and abilities. I had to ask myself if the waters of my writing talent are a puddle or a lake. I know (having read a good many outstanding pieces of literature) that I am not near the power of a river or an ocean. But, I began worried that my abilities are merely the size of a puddle. Instead of focusing on the what-ifs that motivate great story lines, I became obsessed with the what-if of my skills. What if my talent is only a puddle and nothing ever comes of this lifelong dream and investment? What if I write novel after novel and they only sit in file folders in piles around my house? (Goodness knows, they're not in a filing cabinet where organized writers keep them.)

Talking about my writing is fun. The other night, at book group, I mentioned how thrilled I was at completing the polished first draft of my second novel. (Now two out of three Nanowrimo efforts are in first draft stage.) When I share my story ideas with others, I'm energized and encouraged. But it is just talk. They nod their heads and make responses I take to be encouraging, but they've never read a single line of my novels.

I recently sent off one novel to four individuals for feedback. I have heard nothing. That contributed to the puddle/lake question. I couldn't help but think, "if they liked it, they wouldn't be able to put it down and would've responded to the manuscript by now." (Even though I told each of them they needn't feel pressured to respond right away.) Then, the self-doubt about unseen weaknesses took hold in full force. I mused, "perhaps, like me, they are afraid to express their honest response for fear of wounding my pride or something." In reality, they may not have even had time to pick it up and read. Still, here I stand, in the wings of the stage wondering what they think of the performance.

All this navel-gazing is exhausting. It has put me into a blue funk. The fear is immense. How does one keep walking (keep writing) when one fears stumbling (failing)? A writer writes not just out of a need to put something down on paper, but with the genuine desire for reader response. I read voraciously. How could I write with no such hope for my writing? But, it is a deadly trap to get hung up on where the writing is leading.

As my life coach says, "your only requirement is to show up." If what I write never amounts to a hill of beans, I still need to write it because that is what God wants me to do with the talent (puddle or lake) He has given. And maybe I will write a good long time before my writing is polished or good enough to warrant the favorable response of others. I must plug on, continue practicing, no matter the outcome. If I give up on pursuing my dream, I will certainly fail. If I practice, I may one day produce a song worth singing, a story worth telling, and the ability to present it well.

So whether I'm swimming in the shallows or paddling through more, the important thing is to keep making strokes. It is easy to say this - easy to voice the promise to write and leave the results to God - not so easy to put pen to paper daily regardless of any reliable assessment of the swimming conditions. I must fight the fear, fight the self-doubt, and simply bring forth the words God gives.

And for me, my talent may only lie in encouraging other writers. When I look at the number of published authors in my old DeKalb writer's group, I smile. Those individuals had to have had moments of doubt, like me. Perhaps I played a role in reminding them to keep swimming, keep writing, regardless of assessment (or lack of assessment) of the conditions.

Amy has encouraged me. Believe me, her talent is an ocean compared to mine. Her willingness to share the self-doubt makes my self-doubts easier to take. We may not know each other personally, may never meet in a writer's group, but we can spur each other on to plug away with whatever talent God has given and to let the chips fall where they may.