I’m writing a book.
Whew. It takes a whole lot of courage to admit that I’m working on this project.
Maybe I’m scared of it not happening? Or maybe I’m overwhelmed by enthusiasm? Maybe I still think it’s silly and trivial?
I’m about halfway done with the first draft and 120-something pages in, so I think I can admit that I’m writing now. And I’m slowly accepting the idea that my words have value, purpose and can help others.
It’s good, hard work. It’s a book about grief (who would have guessed?) and creativity and faith. It’s a book that shares parts of our story and follows specific topics that have been on my mind a lot over the years, including lament, identity, hope, joy, and the power sharing our stories. Most of the outline of it came to me as I grieved Clive’s death, and I’ve added a lot more as I’ve grieved Winnie’s death.
It’s both practical and vulnerable, and I hope it cultivates journeys of creativity and faith as people grieve. My vision for it is to be a beautiful, visual work that comforts, inspires, and helps people working through grief of any kind.
I’m not the most talented writer, but I have a story to share. If I truly believe in the power of story I won’t let fear of English hold me back. (Plus, that’s what editors are for!). I’m not an expert on words, or art, or faith, but I’ve had my share of experience with grief and I’ve learned so much. I’ve taken the time to sit, learn, process, and grieve–on repeat. Writing helps me, but I don’t do it for myself. I share because I believe it matters and that all our stories matter in the Big Story of the world.
I’ve worried that this is the wrong time for me to work on a project this big. It’s hard to carve out hours at a time to work on writing with a little one year old that adores attention. But, it’s worth the work and I’m able to utilize the village that is surrounding me to help.
I’ve worried that all the books have been written already, but a friend reassured me that a book is always worth writing. So, even if the only copies are sold to my parents (thanks, mom and dad), I’ll write it.
I’ll write it for me and Clive and Winnie and anyone who is grieving, and I’ll pray that it helps someone in their own journey.
I’ll write the book that I’d want to give my best friend if she lost a child. A gift of beauty and love, encouragement and support.
I’ll write the book that captures the practical reality of the world in which we live—and how we need to navigate that world—as well as the spiritual and creative existence our souls have.
I’ll write the book that allows freedom in wrestling through difficult questions of faith.
It’s an exciting and scary thing to announce. Thank you for joining me in the excitement!
It won’t be done for a while—sometime next year, but stay tuned and I’ll share a bit more. I welcome any advice from those of you with experience. I have lots of ideas that I’m not ready to share yet, but I am so excited to create this beautiful book.
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