Mackenzie K. Writes

Good morning, friends! I think it’s safe to assume that if you’re reading this blog, you’re a writer. (if you’re a reader, then it’s safe to assume you love stories and therefore I will eventually convert you.) I’ve been writing for over 10 years now–not necessarily well, but I’ve been writing–yet it still comes as a surprise when seemingly out of the blue comes a case of the “writer’s block”.

Notice, if you will, how I put that in quotations. I’m not a firm believer in writer’s block as being an actual thing. I’m on the fence between understanding it and knowing that writers can put way too much stock in this thing called inspiration. As for me, I try not to write strictly when I’m feeling inspired. That, in my opinion, is a one-stop-shop for disappointment and never finishing a book. But that begs the question: what do we do when the writing doesn’t come easily? What happens when the inspiration doesn’t strike, when the words don’t flow, when the story isn’t coming together the way we planned?

This has been my most recent struggle. The writing hasn’t been easy for a long time. The words aren’t inspired. If I was another writer, I might claim writer’s block and ignore this pressing in my chest that says something is off-kilter. If I was another writer, I might not be sitting here when my head is a mess, struggling to put words of any sort to the page. But I’m not another writer. I’m me. And the truth is it doesn’t matter how hard the words are. What matters is consistency.

STEP ONE… START.

Starting is the hardest part. Butt in chair, fingers on keys… start. Pen in hand, journal in lap… start.

People think a writer’s words come from their head–I disagree. I think they come from somewhere deep inside of us, swimming in our bloodstream, tingling in our fingers, existing inside and outside and all around us. And it is only through writing them–a silent, introspective act–that they are finally caught and fastened to the page. Because of this, I never have the words in my head before I start. They simply do not exist. They are an idea, not a certainty. They are a myth, not reality. And then, when I start, they form. They come together before I even realize what I’m creating. Nothing I write was created in stagnation. Everything I write was formed because I simply started.

The first step to consistency is to start. It is also the hardest, and it is also the most essential. Without starting, nothing is created. And nothing is finished.

STEP TWO… CONTINUE.

You will never realize how many wonderful distractions there are in the world until you set a schedule and stick with it.

I think there’s something ingrained in us to believe that writing is a selfish act. Writing, like any art form, is first and foremost for ourselves. And there is always the potential–always that little voice in the back of our heads–that what we are writing will never see the light of day. What if this book is never published, this story never picked up, our words never read? What if after all this work and time and effort, this precious thing we’ve created is stuffed into the back of a desk drawer, never to be seen again? Does this change the importance of our work? Does this make time spent less valuable?

There are no certainties in writing. Nothing is predetermined. But the time we spend writing is never wasted. That story that gathers dust in the desk drawer is just as valuable as the book sitting on the shelf. If it weren’t for the stories left untouched, the stories we know and love would never exist. Every word we write today is a stepping stone to the stories we will someday tell.

STEP THREE… SPEAK THE TRUTH.

I write fiction. This means I’m legally obligated to lie to you. But even in the unreality there is truth that must be spoken. This is the thread that ties a story together–that little hint of reality mixed in with the madness. It is this which reaches readers, this which makes a story worth reading. That tiny grain of truth. That little bit of something real.

As writers, we have a unique gift; we can share truth in a way that no one else can. We can lace our stories with themes of forgiveness and light and redemption and reconciliation. We can create characters and worlds out of our wildest imaginings, yet ground them with ropes of kindness and hope and a future worth working for. I will be the first to say that I don’t, as a rule, write “christian fiction”. But I do write the truth. Because even in a book where there are dragons and gnomes and goblins and cannibalistic fairies, there is still light. Still hope. Still God. And if I take Him out of my stories, there’s no longer a point.

So how do you write when the writing isn’t easy? You start. You continue. And above all else you speak the truth.

Not every day is going to be filled with excitement towards your books. Not every moment is going to find you writing with reckless abandon. Not every sentence will come with blissful ease. But the good news is, you’re never truly alone in this endeavor. There are other writers just like you out in the universe who are struggling. There are others who don’t know where to begin. There are others, I promise. But most wonderful of all, there is a God who has given you this passion for storytelling, this absolutely remarkable gift. And if He has planted this story in your heart, who are we to say it doesn’t belong?

So write. Write when it’s hard. Write when it’s easy. Write when you don’t know what else to do. Write when you can think of three billion other things to do. Write. And a month from now, when you read the words you have written, you won’t know the difference between when it was easy and when it was hard.