When I launched this site, I expected my blog to be a place where I could regularly exercise my writing muscles, offer behind-the-scenes glimpses at my books, and feel connected to my readers and the world.
Last year, as The Widower and the Washer neared completion it became harder to update my blog with regularity. Then, when it was published in June, the demands on my time increased, and the gap between blog entries stretched even further.
By the fall, my keyboard had gone silent. Some of you might be wondering … why? The question was certainly on my mind.
Lack of Time?
I’d like to blame the lack of blog updates on a busy book-promotion schedule full of vendor markets, podcast appearances, and book signings. Unfortunately, that is only fractionally accurate.
Very little of what absorbed my time had to do with book promotion (or any similar writing-adjacent activity). Sure, I spent the summer months posting reels and scheduling events, but by September, I was back to navigating a new school year as a single parent.
Beyond that, I was also in the midst of preparing a piece of property to sell, which took a little more time and effort than I anticipated.
Finally, my church had invited me to return to the Elder Board after a two-year hiatus. And this return came just in time to team up with some others in the congregation to lead the church through a (planned) pastoral transition.
So yes, my writing desk was competing with some other important events for a share of my time. But there is more to writing than just time.
Lack of Content?
Even on the rare days when I seemed to have the answer to when, I encountered questions about what. Even beyond blogging, I struggled to understand what my next writing project would be.
Two years ago, I was fully prepared to draft a follow-up novel to Coin and Dagger. That project was preempted by The Widower and the Washer after I lost my wife Angela.
After I drafted my memoir, I expected to pick up where I left off with the novel-in-progress. I added some scenes, tidied up the presentation, and shared a sample with some test readers.
Through their feedback, I learned that I had an unworkable setup that I would need to reimagine in order to make the story viable. As I struggled with this, I discovered that God never intended this story to be a book. Instead. He led me to use my research in a sermon.
Next, I revisited a story idea that I’ve been toying with for over a decade. My struggle with this story was that I simply had an unlikable protagonist. So, I took a step back and began drafting his origin story.
Again, I shared this with some test readers, and found that these scenes were landing well. People cared about this character, and were interested in how his story would develop. This opened the floodgates, and notes began pouring out of my head onto my whiteboard, as I saw a clear path for fixing this character and giving him a relatable story.
But that’s when my time dried up.
It seemed I could have the time to write or the content to write, but not both together.
Lack of Permission?
Sometimes, when God prevents us from doing what we want, it is obvious. I’ve previously used the illustration of Paul’s attempt to expand his ministry in Asia when God was directing him to Macedonia. In fact, it is such a profound story, that I accidentally used it twice.
Usually, we see better in hindsight when God is blocking our steps to achieve a different purpose.
A Timely Message
Last week, my pastor shared a sermon on this single verse:
When two years had passed, Felix was succeeded by Porcius Festus, but because Felix wanted to grant a favor to the Jews, he left Paul in prison. – Acts 24:27 (NIV)
This looks like a difficult verse to preach in isolation. To be clear, my pastor opened his sermon with this observation. There is literally nothing happening in this verse. Two years reduced to a single sentence. What was Paul doing during those two years? Nothing that Luke saw the need to recount here.
We could use our imagination to fill in these two years. We can consider which letters Paul may have written in this time. We can contemplate how his trial may have played out if he had appeared before Felix instead of Festus. Plenty of scholars have entertained these questions.
But the point of last week’s sermon was not to speculate about the possibilities. The point was to understand that we don’t need to.
Instead, this verse reminds us that God is present even when He is silent. It reinforces that a delay does not mean God has cancelled his plan for us. Finally, a time of stillness is a season to reflect, grow, or strengthen, depending on our particular needs.
As I listened to this sermon, I remembered all of the times that I made sure my Freewrite was fully charged, only to not power it on the next day (or week or month). I remembered the moments when I had a great idea for a blog post, but by morning all I could remember was that I used to have an idea.
Back to Why
Why is God’s timing what it is? I don’t fully know, and I may never fully know. But I’m okay with that.
What I do know is that for the past six months, I’ve been able to invest my time in some very necessary things. One project (the property sale) is now behind me. The pastoral transition is still in process, but will reach a resolution in the not-too-distant future.
When I return to regular drafting, will I be better prepared to do so? I like to think so. If my notes are any indication, my next story will be more cohesive and relatable than it would have been if I had drafted it a year ago.
For this moment, I count that as progress. In the meantime, I hope to visit you with more regularity in this space.