You knew this was coming: I need to get my butt in the chair.
I’ve been doing a lot of writing lately, as you may have seen whenever I beg you to follow the link to something I’ve written. (And thank you, thank you, thank you – it means the world, it really does!) I love writing shorter pieces, and it’s been fun getting my words out in the world – but I’ve also neglected that longer love, my manuscript.
So, for the month of August, I’ll point you to various pieces around the web, but I won’t be creating any new blog content for the next month.
In the meantime, I’d love for you to read this post I wrote for my friend, Siv. You can click here to read all of it, or catch a short preview here:
I spent 45 minutes crafting a single sentence last night.
You see, the perfect idea existed somewhere in the back of my brain. I knew where I wanted to say it. I had an idea of how it would help the article come together, but the actual practice of clearly communicating what I wanted to say took more than a little while to get there.
I don’t think I’m the only one.
Anne Lamott, my writing saint of saints, says that it’s merely a matter of getting your butt in the chair. But taking the time to sit down, to wait for inspiration and creativity to come, is oftentimes the hardest practice of all.
On Saturday, I sat across from a young woman who wants to be a writer. She has a book idea down pat, so much so that she’s even carved an outline of its contents.
“So, have you written the book yet?” I asked her. She looked at me and laughed.
“No,” she replied. “I’m waiting.”
I, of course, continued to ask her questions. After all, she asked to meet with me about writing; she wanted to know how I’d gotten from Point A (teaching) to Point B (ministry) to Point C (writing). Naturally, I wanted to know the secret of her waiting game. It wasn’t a matter of time: working part-time, she knew she had more than enough hours in the day.
She was waiting for someone to want her. She was waiting for someone in the publishing industry to hear her great idea and offer her a book contract on the spot. She was waiting for the world to see and hear and believe in her potential, even though she’d hardly done any of the work to get there.
I leaned across the table and locked eyes with her.
“You have to do the hard work, my friend,” I told her, as gently as I could. And then I told her my story.
I’d love for you to head on over to Miracles in the Mundane, and read the rest of my story. Otherwise, I’ll catch you in September!
So, how do YOU need to get your butt in the chair? What do you need to say NO to, in order to yield a mighty, holy YES?