The Writer’s Focus: Finding and Following My “Star”

For whatever reason, I’ve always avoided goal setting in January. I’m not sure if it has to do with wanting to buck the common trend of planning to do something and quitting within the first 90 days of the new year, or not. (Actually, September tends to be the month that I’ve visualized as the start of my new year. Something I chalk up to a holdover from my many years in school.) But this year, for whatever reason, is different.

Having a little more free time than I’m used to at the moment, I found myself catching up on some blogs I follow, re-reading some favorite books, and just having plenty of time for quiet reflection. It was during this time that I read Dr. Dennis E. Hensley’s Christmas/Writing-themed article “What the Wise Men Taught Me about Goal Setting” on the Christian Writers Guild site.

In it he writes: “I’ve spent years researching what drives a person to strive for something great, never resting until a goal is reached. No lessons related to personal achievement have impressed me more than those I have drawn from the account of the Magi.”

I recommend reading his full article, but for those who can’t, Dr. Hensley’s article contains four points:

Focus brings success

Goals provide motivation

Study to be wise

Seek the truth

I tend to be a bit of a scatterbrain when it comes to writing. I get a great idea, I jot it down, I start the new project, I get distracted by another idea that I just have to get down on paper, I forget about my previous project, I get frustrated that I have so many unfinished pieces cluttering my mind and desk, I go back to the original project, then while writing I get another idea. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I can set all the great goals in the world. I can study and read and practice. I can seek truth in a story. But if I have no set focus I might as well be tossing multi-colored paint-filled balloons at the walls. I’m just going to end up with a jumbled, chaotic mess.

So, following Dr. Hensley’s advice, I sat down over the weekend and reflected on the various stories, articles, and scraps floating around. Many of them have quite a bit of potential that I hope I’ll eventually get some use out of, but I asked myself, “Which of these am I the most passionate about?” I then narrowed it down further by asking, “If I was told I would only write one story before I die, which story would I want it to be?”

And that’s when I found my “Star in the Night Sky.”

I always complain about never having enough time to write. I am now convinced that part of that problem is I was trying to write too many different things at once. With the exception of doing a bit of contracted freelance writing while looking for fulltime work, I may never again have as much time to write my story as I do right now.

With that in mind, I’m setting my gaze on that star and following it to wherever it may lead me.

Photo Credit: NASA, H.E. Bond and E. Nelan (Space Telescope Science Institute, Baltimore, Md.); M. Barstow and M. Burleigh (University of Leicester, U.K.); and J.B. Holberg (University of Arizona) via HubbleSite 

The Writer’s Oath: A Year without Whining

When I bought The Art of War for Writers a few years ago it was because I’d entered a sort of manic stage in my writing life. I was bound and determined that would be the year I finally broke out as a writer, and I wanted to have every tool at my disposal to do so. I was familiar with The Art of War, and Jim is a writer whom I really admire and respect, so I couldn’t wait to see how he adapted Sun Tzu’s methods for writing.

I made it a point to read one chapter each night before bed so I could mull the words over in my sleep. To say it gave me a lot of food for thought is an understatement. However, of all the advice offered, one piece has stuck with me the most: Whining will not help you win the battle for publication.

Why? Because Whining (and it’s favorite companion, Worry) warps the imagination and steals our joy as writers. Instead of focusing on our own work, we obsess over the work of others. It’s a classic case of the “Have’s vs. The Have Not’s.”

I know this because these are both activities I’m an expert at. There was a period of time not too long ago when I would go into bookstores, take a book of the shelf, start reading it and then ask “How is it this book got published and no one will look at mine? My writing is way better than this!” I’d particularly complain when I’d hear an announcement about a celebrity or reality star releasing a children’s book

“Of course their book would get picked up! They’re famous!” I’d tell my family and friends. “They cheated, cut in line some how. Did they even write it, or did they just offer an idea and a name for some ghost writer to do all the work?”

Chapter 7 of The Art of War for Writers gathers its focus from Christina Katz, author of Get Known Before the Book Deal. Jim wisely chose to include a statement from Katz’ book for writers to sign that would change all that. It pledged that the writer would keep all grousing to oneself for the course of a year. It took me all of a minute to decide this was something I needed to do.

I decided to modify the oath a little to state I would not grouse at all for a year — not to others, and certainly not to myself. Wanting it to be official, I opened up my word processor, selected a certificate template, typed in my statement, and hung the signed copy over my desk. That was two years ago.

Looking back, I am amazed at the change I’ve noticed in my perspective. I still have my off days, but instead of feelings of jealousy and ineptitude, I’ve been able to truly rejoice when I learn a friend’s book has been picked up. It has also spurred me on to continue improving my craft through reading and, more importantly, writing, thus preparing me for the day my name is finally called.

It’s the start of a new year, which means many of us are making new goals for ourselves. I’ve decided to resign my Writer’s Oath, renewing the contract for another year so to speak. I’d like to invite you to do the same.

Let’s make 2012 the year we as writers put aside all that which will drain our creative energy in exchange for that which will inspire us. Let us start this year with a fresh and unsullied purpose.

My friends, may this year bring you much inspiration, joy, and a bountiful harvest for your labors.

Happy New Year!

30 Days of Thankfulness in Writing – Day 5: Improvising

It’s easy to focus on the negative in the world around us. In observation of a month many dedicate to counting their blessings, I’ve started a 30-day challenge in which I’ll focus on one aspect of my writing life for which I am thankful. I’d love to have you join by sharing about something that has blessed your own writing life in the comments section below. - Jen

Technically it’s the 8th day of the month, but between traveling for a few days and then forgetting my laptop power adapter, it makes it a little difficult to post. So rather than combining days I’ll stick with my original 30-day plan. What does it matter if I go into December? November doesn’t hold the license on Thankfulness any more than February holds the patent on Love, right? Which brings me to another aspect of my writing life I am thankful for: improvising.

Let’s face it — the best-laid plans always have an Achilles Heel, especially when technology is involved. Aside from losing my power cord, my car decided to go on the fritz even though I’d just gotten the all clear from my mechanic. And when visiting with family to celebrate a major milestone it is often frowned upon to hole oneself up to reach a daily word count. (Not to mention you also miss out on creating memories.)

Not writing wasn’t so big a deal. I had ideas and I’d jot them down in my notebook for later, but when it came to handling the car problems I wondered more than once, “What would one of my characters do in this situation?” I ask myself that question a lot when I find myself in a sticky situation. Would they panic? Would they cross their arms, sit down, and quit all together? Or would they come up with something entirely unexpected?

The answer was unequivocally, the latter. My characters would improvise. When a goal is blocked in fiction our characters don’t just give up. We’d stop writing (or reading) if they did. Instead they find a way AROUND the obstacle and then get back on track as quickly as possible. No matter what happens, what delays they face, they never take their eyes off their final goal or destination.

I recently started re-reading The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. It’s about a shepherd boy looking for his personal legend — a treasure he kept dreaming about. In one leg of his journey he joins a caravan to reach the Great Pyramids. There are plenty of obstacles to face along the way but as one of the camel drivers tells him, “Once you get into the desert, there is no going back. And when you can’t go back, you have to worry only about the best way of moving forward.”

Life is a lot like the desert. Especially the writing life. The way forward is rarely straight and direct. There are plenty of rocks to go around, pitfalls to be avoided, and thieves in the night to watch for (I’m looking at you, Facebook!). Sometimes life forces us to improvise. Like our characters, we can’t sit still. There’s no story to tell in that.  So I’m taking a cue from my favorite literary friends and will find a new way around these funky little obstacles. I’ll continue moving forward.

Walking on Water

“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.” Matt 14:28

Growing up in Sunday School, I became very familiar with stories about David fighting Goliath, Jonah and the Great Fish, Daniel in the lion’s den, and Jesus feeding the multitude with two loaves and a fish. I loved imagining what it would be like if I’d been one of those people; if I’d seen what they’d seen, or done what they’d done.

I particularly liked to hear about Jesus walking out on the stormy sea towards a boat tossed about in the angry squall. What would it be like to walk on water, I wondered. Would I have stepped out like Peter? I was convinced that if I had, I would never have sunk though.

I happened across this passage again a couple weeks ago, and as I read it I could picture Peter standing with his hands on the rail, prepared to step over the side regardless of Jesus’ reply. He was ready to do the impossible.

It’s funny, when the story is told more emphasis is placed on Peter becoming distracted by the waves, sinking, and calling out for help. We focus on the fact that Jesus reached out immediately and pulled him up, indicating that God is always there to rescue his children, but we fail to realize that it doesn’t say Jesus ran to him and saved him. Peter was already near enough to be grabbed, which indicates he had walked quite a ways from the boat by that point.

History remembers the the names of those who step out of the boat. We know there were other disciples on board that night, but we don’t know how many, or specifically, which ones. Peter is the only one mentioned by name.

The same is true of war memorials. We remember those who risked all, not those who ran from the battlefield or stayed home. Marie Currie is remembered for exploring an anomaly on a piece of film placed on a rock, and for her subsequent work with radiation. The list goes on.

Dreams are just that…dreams…vapors in the night. That is, until we take the steps to turn them into reality. It requires courage, determination — and a bit of insanity. Notice that even after Peter got out of the boat and stood solidly on the sea, not a single person present attempted join him.

I have a song from Kutless I like to listen to when I’m struggling with decisions to stay still or move forward. It has a line that says, “It doesn’t matter what you’ve heard, impossible is not a word. It’s just a reason for someone not to try.”

When Jesus pulled Peter up and asked him “Why did you doubt?” it’s important to remember, he wasn’t chastising him for believing that if he got out of the boat he could walk forward through the massive waves, he was telling him not to become distracted by what was going on around him and to focus instead on his final destination.

I want to encourage you to do the same with your writing. Don’t be one of the nameless men on the boat. If you have been blessed with being given story to tell, step forward boldly. Don’t let anyone else distract you with tales of the impossibility of being published. Don’t become discouraged when your manuscript comes back with more red than black. Learn. Grow. And always remember: Even though writing is largely a solitary endeavor, you’re never alone. There will always be someone nearby to reach out a hand and pull you back up if you do begin to sink.

Disturb us, Lord...

God can testify how I long for all of you with the affection of Christ Jesus. Phil 1:8

While walking this morning, my brother and I spoke about goals. Specifically about where he is currently in life versus where he’d hoped to be at this point. The subject came up because of something his pastor talked about during Wednesday night’s Bible study.

His pastor shared that each morning he asks God to guide his steps for the day because his plan may not always be what God had in mind. For example he used the Apostle Paul. Paul was active. He wanted to be in the trenches working alongside the young churches, but between shipwrecks, imprisonment, and various other roadblocks, that wasn’t always possible. So instead he wrote letters. Not a single one of those early churches remain, but his letters have served as a beacon of light and a tool of instruction for countless generations.

Paul had a vision. God’s was even bigger.

Our conversation reminded me of a poem attributed to Sir Francis Drake:

Disturb us, Lord, when


We are too well pleased with ourselves,

When our dreams have come true

Because we have dreamed too little,

When we arrived safely

Because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, Lord, when

With the abundance of things we possess

We have lost our thirst

For the waters of life;

Having fallen in love with life,

We have ceased to dream of eternity

And in our efforts to build a new earth,

We have allowed our vision

Of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,

To venture on wider seas

Where storms will show your mastery;

 Where losing sight of land,

 We shall find the stars.

We ask You to push back

The horizons of our hopes;


And to push into the future

In strength, courage, hope, and love.

To that I would add:

Disturb us, Lord, when

We feel that the work You’ve call us to serves little purpose,

When we content ourselves with mediocrity

Rather than boldly seeking

The path You’ve set before us,

Fully realizing the gifts You have bestowed upon us,

And instead blindly attempt to find our way alone.