What Writing and Working are Teaching Me: A Lenten Reflection
Things have been a bit sparse around here, mostly because I’m in the midst of finishing my book manuscript.
In the absence of posts on The Writer’s Loom, I’ll direct you to a recent reflection I wrote on the act of finishing a book. For me, this is always a grueling process that seems to leave me more or less unmoored. This time around, finishing a major writing project has coincided with Lent, which has led to some timely and meaningful lessons…
Finishing a book can be very emptying. As rewarding as it is, it’s also a loss. Along with just pouring yourself into the work, it means facing what you could not accomplish. As an author, there’s always more you wish you were capable of putting into words. The closer I got to my deadline, the harder it was for me to see what my writing actually did accomplish because I was overwhelmed by the nagging sense it wasn’t enough. It’s kind of a slice of what it must feel like to be on one’s deathbed–at some point, you have to put your pencil down and look back and realize this is it, for better for worse. This is the book you wrote, with all its gems and warts. That can be both a rewarding and harrowing thing to face, mostly because I have always had a set of standards for myself that are completely and ridiculously out of sync with reality. If it doesn’t manage to solve world hunger, the political debacle, and basically all other forms of human suffering, I might as well not even try.
Read more of this post on the blog Time Eternal, where it was originally posted.