Almost Published

A couple weeks ago, my clean, crisp nametag of “Bona fide Writer” got torn from my chest when I discovered my first published piece scheduled to be released this month is, unfortunately, still an unpublished piece.

Last fall, I’d received the congratulatory email, signed a contract, and sent in my permissions forms. The notice stated that “the vast majority of manuscripts” would be published. Apparently, my piece was in the itsy bitsy minority.

Rats. Thank goodness I didn’t announce the news of publishing without a cautionary caveat.

It can get frustrating at times, working for hours on stuff that people may never read. Dreaming of the day when the gatekeepers of the writing world will affirm me as one of their race. I know I’m a writer - because I write. I’ve been writing all my life. And even I had zero chance of being read by the masses, I would still write.

Even so, I want the name tag.

I’m aware that this desire to be read can easily get idolatrous. On the one hand, there is always the temptation to base my identity on what I do rather than on who I am.

I do writing. I do mothering. I do dishes. I do vacuuming. I do singing. I do exercise. I do tea.

But -

I am God’s daughter. I am unique. I am redeemed. I am creative. I am victorious. I am loved.

I know this is true, but still need my memory jogged from time to time. Even this morning God reminded me that I do not need to seek man’s affirmation of my gift/identity/importance when He, the Great Creator of the Universe, knows, approves, and loves me.

How can I look at a sunrise and be satisfied to write my own story for my own puny glory? Is it not far better to be in His story? To be following Him in an eternal epic? And to honestly delight in using my gifts for HIS glory without trying to steal some of it for myself?

My pen, my vocal chords, my relationships… didn’t He give them to me, as well as the opportunity to develop them? He also gives me my eternal name tag made of stone, not just flimsy paper (see Revelation 2:17).

On the other hand, God designed humans to work and enjoy the fruit of their labor. For the writer, this fruit equals being read. And usually, being read equals being published.

Madeline L’Engle has been mentoring me through her words in Walking on Water. She writes, “The writer does want to be published; the painter urgently hopes that someone will see the finished canvas..; the composer needs his music to be heard. Art is communication, and if there is no communication it is as though the work had been stillborn” (p. 30).

So here I am - still waiting. Still wanting. Still learning. Still struggling. Still hoping. Still trusting (and complaining, but trying to trust more).

Still writing…

and almost published.


*Two notes of encouragement: Jason and I got the chance to speak to the youth group at our church and have received encouraging feedback from parents. Yay! It’s nice to know that we’re able to communicate a little through the spoken word while we await to do the same through the written. And it was also good to hear that the youth were enchanted by God’s story - not our eloquence. That’s the right place.

It also warmed my heart today when someone referred to me as a writer at Bible Study.