I haven’t written any of my novel since December. This is my third version of this blog post. It was a strain just to write my grocery list this week.
This is the most stuck I’ve been with my creative writing in ages. And I think it’s a good thing.
I got a little worn out by the end of last year. Part of it was because I hadn’t had a holiday in a while. The other part was because I put waaaaaay too much pressure on myself to write a perfect novel. So I took a break, and now I can’t get started again.
But surprisingly, as another week ends with me accomplishing nothing besides going to work and burning through half a season of Castle, God does not seem upset with me. No, He keeps telling me He loves me.
And the longer this goes on, the more I realize the only person upset with me was myself.
Though I’ve written plenty of blog posts about significance and identity in the past 15 months of running this blog, I still got sucked into the trap of associating my creative writing accomplishments with my own sense of purpose. I felt that my writing was the only thing that set me apart. And since I don’t do as much youth work volunteering as I used to, my writing was also my form of ‘volunteering’ for God. I was using my gift for His glory, right?
Well, yeah, you can write for God’s glory. But if you actually write to make yourself feel special, that’s not cool.
This bout of writer’s block has made me face that truth.
But, like I said, God doesn’t seem mad. He just keeps telling me, in a bunch of different ways, that He loves me just as I am. I don’t have to do lots of hard work to make Him happy. I can relax, be still, and be confident in my identity in Him.
So, where to with my writing?
At this point, I don’t plan to give it up. I’m slowly gathering ideas and trying to scoop up enough inspiration to get me back at the keyboard again. But, when I finally get to that point, I’ll be more aware than ever that success as a novelist or as a blogger has nothing to do with my success as a person.