Because that’s going to happen someday, right?
Doubt. It leaves room for me to think that I might be the best writer ever, that I might win that coveted award in my genre (once I’m published, of course) and that my book might earn glowing reviews. Then it bulldozes through and unearths the plot craters, the underdeveloped characters in the story, and as in my case for historical fiction, the anachronisms that have managed to root everywhere. I’m buried by doubt most every day. And I think it will rumble around in my life forever. Is that ok? Yes. Because when I start to think I can do this thing by myself, I’m going to fail.
I’m not going to give a how-to on ridding my writing life of doubt. Because, to be honest, I need it. I need to know that my work isn’t good enough so that I can continue to improve and make it better. I need to keep my readers in mind–the will-they-or-won’t they-like-it dance–which keeps me striving to craft a story that will satisfy. I need doubt in my life because I don’t ever want to forget the dream side of wanting to be published. If I ever upgrade to author, I want to remember the struggle it took to get there. I want to remember that now that I have finished the second draft of a novel (finishing at about 125K words, so a lot of work yet to be done) that I’m still struggling with how to make the writing tighter. I want to remember how much I am wrestling with writing that first chapter, revealing enough to keep readers going, but not so much that it becomes a backstory info dump. I want doubt to keep me accountable to let God lift me up and promote me, rather than trying to get my name out there and promote myself. That doesn’t mean I don’t post on social media, or that if I ever get an agent or publishing contract that I stop letting people know I’ve written a book. It just means I don’t need to obsess and worry about book sales, post views, and Instagram likes.
I don’t want to rid myself of doubt. Notice the first paragraph of this post. There is a tiny word in each of those sentences that can be turned around. Might. It can mean to cast doubt, but it can also mean great strength. But I don’t have great strength and I don’t want to do any of this in my strength anyway. However, if I remind myself that in God’s might I can be the best writer ever, in God’s might I can win those coveted awards, and in God’s might I can get those glowing reviews, then the whole meaning of those sentences change.
Maybe there is a writer reading this that needs this reminder. I don’t do this work to see what I can do. I do it to see what the Lord can do and what He can do through me. I do this because God will use us all, with our individual strengths, weaknesses, and viewpoints to give Him glory. I do this because I believe, with God’s might, I can proclaim a message for Him.
I don’t want to forget all the doubt heaped upon me in this process, throwing clods of dirt on all of my ideas and mounding impossibility in my path. I want to remember that doubt plowed beside me because it was hard work that was worth doing and because it kept me dependent on God and not on myself. Doubt keeps me humble and focused on Him. Doubt helps me remember that His might, might be a yes someday.
Love this quote: “I don’t do this work to see what I can do. I do it to see what the Lord can do and what He can do through me.” Yes! And I always learn something in the process.