Last week, a friend asked me about a writer's conference I attended this summer. I wasn't sure what to say.
This was my first writer's conference (not counting the one day writers seminar I attended in 5th Grade...) and I didn't know what to expect. There were WAY more people there than I thought (after 1 year, it was apparently the largest Christian writer's conference in the US!) and the crowd was mostly women. One minute I was inspired by a speaker's vulnerability and story-telling, and the next I was feeling insecure about my own abilities. The MC would tell us one thing, and then a seminar presenter would contradict her. It seemed like everyone was telling us "you can be a success even if you don't have a platform...but by the way are you on Twitter and Instagram to get more followers?" At times, I felt like the whole thing was just a platform for those who had already "made it," a money-making opportunity dressed up as a skills and networking conference for those poor suckers who think they have a shot at becoming published authors. Until my friend asked me about the conference, I hadn't realized how little I'd been writing lately. Not because I'm too busy, or because I don't feel like it, or don't have any new ideas (I have about 10 new ideas a DAY, by the way, which often seems like more of a curse than a blessing). I've been procrastinating finishing my book because if I don't complete it, then no one ever has to read it and I won't get my feelings hurt if no one likes it. Which is silly, because I've had a half dozen friends read parts of the manuscript and they've enjoyed it, so either they really did like it or they were lying to my face (I'm choosing to believe the former). Six friends like it...that's good, right? Six is better than none? I'm about half-way through Lauren Winner's book Still: notes on a mid-faith crisis, and every time I pick up the book I think "I can do this." I can write a book. And not just any book, but the one I sense the Lord calling me to write. I felt the same way after reading Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller, Bittersweet by Shauna Niequist and Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott. Writing is hard because on one hand, there are no original thoughts. Whatever I come up with, someone, somewhere, has already written about it. I've been diving into some excellent books on self-discovery in the last year, and so many of them which were published recently quote guys like Thomas Merton, Henri Nouwen, and Frederick Buechner, and MUCH older guys like St. Francis of Assisi and St. John of the Cross (and there are hardly ever any women referenced, though I'm starting to see Saint Teresa of Ávila's name come up here and there). And on the other hand, no one has ever heard my thoughts about perfectionism and prayer, the revolving door of friendship for singles, and bootstraps that have broken right off because you've pulled too hard. I may not have any original thoughts in my book, but my writing is still unique in the way I have experienced life and the way I tell my story. So, I think I'll keep at it, despite how many twitter or insta or facebook followers I have.
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Amy WellnerEncouraging others to intentionally live out their God-given identity. Archives
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