Out of the Writing Desert

For the past five years, I’ve been in a writing desert. I’ve wondered if it was of my own making or if the Lord had removed that part of my life forever. I’ve struggled and prayed and tried. I felt no peace about quitting and yet no desire to continue, either. Still, I forced myself to write. I even self published two novellas. But my heart wasn’t really in it. I did it because I thought I ought to. After all, my other responsibilities as full-time mom had ceased. It should have been the time in my life to write unencumbered.

As time passed, I thought this sudden feeling of not wanting to write was some failure in me. Laziness? Burnout? Flat out rebellion? After all, God had very obviously given me the desire to write stories from an early age. And He had brought about amazing things I hadn’t expected—such as four books published by Bethany House Publishers. I flailed myself often for my weakness. My lack of persistence and fortitude. My tendency to wallow in self-pity over the downturn of my writing career and the upending of my everyday routines by our sudden move to a new city.

Then we left our new city just as abruptly as we’d arrived almost five years earlier, and we returned home. Home to friends. Home to family. Home to a darling house in our dream neighborhood. And after almost 3 years in a tiny one bedroom condo (and a little larger two bedroom apartment before that!), the new house provided me a true workspace. An office upstairs. In the back. Literally a place to hide away from the world and work.

Which both thrilled and terrified me. After all, I hadn’t really wanted to write for the past five years, so why did I think that desire would suddenly return now?

And yet that space beckoned, with its futon sofa and second-hand desk. With its built in bookshelves and armoire repurposed to hold all my book inventory and marketing do-dads. So I climbed the stairs, unsure what I would feel, what I could make happen.

The most interesting part? I didn’t have to make anything happen! I got up there in my ivory tower and the words flowed, just like they used to. Characters clambered for my attention. Stories spun themselves. And once again, I felt wholly alive, doing what I was created to do.

I know the Lord did much work in me during the five year hiatus from loving to write, much of which I imagine will come out in the stories I tell. I have learned to prioritize people. To love them more fully. To guard my time to refresh and refuel. To relish time in the Word and prayer. To embrace community. To love words—again. Not just reading them, but writing them. To appreciate the gift that God has given me to tell stories.

After desert years, the promised land feels even more . . . promising. And lush. And delightful. Now my promised land living is less about publishing and more about writing, though if I’m honest, I desire both. Still, I can be content in this place more so than before, publishing or not, because in the end, the stories I tell through my fingers on the keyboard at the unction of the Holy Spirit change me. And if the Lord choses to use them to encourage others as well? Then to God by the glory.

What has been your desert lately? Is there a gift God gave you that you didn’t fully appreciate until it seemed to have disappeared?