A savvy reader might notice the similarities, in fact, between my inspiration book and my actual first book written five years later: A Modern Girl’s Guide to Bible Study. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but I hedged closer to outright plagiarism as the working title was A Girlfriend’s Guide to Bible Study, which we were forging ahead with until I got a cease-and-desist letter from Vicki Iovine’s lawyer, a moment that should have mortified me but instead caused me to squeal: I GOT A LETTER FROM VICKI!!
To this day, almost twenty years after I picked up that book, when readers tell me we could be “best friends,” a plunging sense of gratitude spreads through my chest, because my inaugural inspiration came from another writer who made a living as a (trademarked!) girlfriend, guiding her readers through shared experiences with humor, candor, and warmth. I learned truth from Jesus, but I learned tone from Vicki. When you tell me I feel like a friend, I can’t explain what a deep compliment you are paying me, because my first true north as an author was not as an expert or theologian or authoritarian teacher but as an honest friend in the trenches with my readers.
I still draw from several categories of mentorship, because the day I stop learning is the day I need to hang it up. I regularly read books on the craft of writing, some a dozen times each. I start every day reading news articles, theological essays, positions opposite mine, and current-event commentaries. I cannot be a leader in any capacity without paying attention. I constantly reach for introspective, quiet spiritual practitioners like Henri Nouwen and Richard Rohr because they help steady the wild, dramatic, wordy compass I was born with. I devour humor writing like it is my job, mostly far outside the Christian subcategory. I cannot even imagine where I would be if David Sedaris, Tina Fey, and Erma Bombeck had not instructed me in the ways of satire. I also shut down my laptop and get out in the world, because academia has its place but can atrophy a real life. I need to see and smell and travel and put my arms around human beings. I cannot write a good story if I am not living one.
Doctors put in the work to be good doctors. Teachers do the work to be phenomenal teachers. Budding creators cannot imagine themselves beyond the need for development or unworthy of the investment, paycheck or no paycheck. Worry less about getting recognized and more about becoming good at what you do. Take yourself seriously. Take your art seriously. You are both worth this.
And by the way, do not become immobilized by good art already out there. Stop that this instant. I did everything out of order on my first book; not until the manuscript was finished did I comb the shelves looking for “comparable titles” for my “book proposal” (these were things I’d never heard of a hot day in my life). I remember standing in the aisle of a bookstore, running my fingers along book after book in my genre, thinking, Oh my heavenly stars. My book has already been written by famous and smart people. I could barely bring myself to peek inside them, terrified at how much better they were than mine. I went home and told Brandon, “It’s over. There’s no room for me.”
But . . . there was.
There is no scarcity in creativity. The world always needs good offerings. We cannot have too much beauty. There is no such thing as too much wisdom and literature and story and craftsmanship. There is room for you. Don’t be intimidated by successful makers; be inspired by them. Creativity doesn’t divide but multiply, finding new expressions in everyone inspired by someone else’s gift. We can draw from our favorite writers, artists, musicians, thinkers, leaders, teachers; they sharpen and stretch us, laying pavement for our own gifts, offering possibility and permission to be even better versions of our own creative selves. No need to feel threatened or minimized by someone else’s amazing talents. It is all fed by the same river that has no end, no threshold, no limits.
Draw from your treasured mentors and then create what only you can; there is no one else who can do exactly what you do in the way you do it. Your story is yours alone. No one has already claimed your seat at the table no matter how similar the genre. Do your time; there is room for you.
Final note: just because one person says your work is crap doesn’t mean it is. Or maybe it is, but that is not the end of your story. You cannot bail with your first rejection, first critique, first outright troll, first rough patch. You’ll be done by the end of the week. Applause is not your end game or, in any case, your motivation. It can’t be. If approval replaced dedication as creativity’s fuel, this world would be barren, empty, decidedly less lovely. Creating is a synonym for perseverance. Keep going, learn from criticism, ignore the haters, press onward. The Harry Potter series was rejected twelve times before it got picked up, and IT IS DOING OKAY NOW.
As a writer, I can promise you that getting published (or featured or awarded or recognized) will not make you miraculously happy, rich (oh my gosh), or validated. I’m laughing as I type that, because I know you are thinking, Yes, it will. I don’t care what you say. It won’t. I’m telling you. You’ll still be in your weird mind wondering why your life is mostly the same. Traditional success doesn’t fix you like you thought it would.
Listen to me: this is my twelfth published book, a couple made Important Lists, and I swear I still feel wonky and wobbly and nervous and like a poser. Every time I sit down to write, I wonder if I can pull it off this time. Then, miraculously, as I push the watching eyes and lists and expectations out of my mind and open my heart as wide as it will go and put my fingers on the keyboard, there it is: the craft, the joy, the magic.
As it turns out, the applause isn’t as fulfilling as the work.
Art is worth every second. So here I am, creators, cheering you on. We need you. We need your stories and craftsmanship and gifts and courage. We need you to prioritize your creativity. We need brave, committed artists to decorate this hurting world with loveliness, to partner with God in making beautiful things. Erase these words—selfish, frivolous, unimportant—and replace them with these—necessary, exquisite, courageous.
Bring it forth.
The world awaits, dear ones.
We’re all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.1
— DR. SEUSS
CHAPTER 11
DEFER AND PREFER
Dinner conversation last night:
BEN: Mom and Dad, do you guys French kiss?
REMY: Gross! That’s what dogs do!
BRANDON: Only French dogs.
ME: Brandon, gosh.
SYDNEY: Then don’t read Mom’s books, you guys. She talks about sex.
CALEB: Oh, I know. “Have lots of sex.” I read that right next to the kid chapter! Sick!
BEN: I wish I didn’t know this!
REMY: What does that mean?
ME: JUST EAT YOUR FRIED RICE, YOU GUYS.
BRANDON: Hurry up and go upstairs so me and Mom can French.