What Happened When I Stopped Writing for Lent

Or, having a DTR with the Christian publishing industry

Photo from Pixistock

When I went out to lunch with two writer friends in early February and shared that I felt led to give up any and all writing for Lent, they understood.

When we went out again in early March, they asked:

“What is God teaching you through not-writing?”

And my toes broke out into a sweat at their very reasonable question. I had not been reflecting on what I’d learned so far because I hadn’t been planning on writing to share it. Over the years, I’ve become so used to mining my own experience for content, that for a minute just living my life felt like I was doing it wrong.

It’s my first day back at my writing desk after a forty-day hiatus. During Lent, I replaced my customary twenty minutes of writing with twenty minutes of silent, listening prayer. In the beginning, it felt odd to change my customary morning routine. I didn’t really miss writing at first. It felt like maybe I was on a break. The second two weeks, I started to get twitchy, and wanted to pick up my pen at odd hours of the day to write something. The urge would strike me in the evenings or at the lunch hour—times of day when I never write. The last two weeks before Easter were especially difficult. I longed to grab my pen and notebook, would pass by my writing desk and look at it longingly.

During this long not-writing time, I also gave up on capturing ideas for later. I stopped treating every encounter as fodder for my next writing project. There were no posts published or newsletters sent out, which took the numbers of views and likes completely off my radar. I spoke at two rather large women’s events, and for the first time, did not incentivize anyone to subscribe to my newsletter. I showed up with the sole purpose of serving those who attended with no hopes of growing my following.

The result was liberating! I was so much more present to my own life, even in the most ordinary moments.

Reflecting on my writing life (really on these past six or seven years) I can say that I’ve learned and grown and accomplished a lot. I’m proud of the articles I’ve published, the book I sent out into the world, the relationships I’ve built with other writers, and the writing habits I’ve developed.

But during these last three years, I’ve been hoping to become a traditionally published author and so I’ve been playing by the rules of their game (except for Instagram, which is where I put my foot down.) And the effort required to win their game has become unsustainable for me. The best practices as defined by the Christian publishing industry have begun to feel tyrannical to me: The pressures of platform-building demand so much effort and energy that little is left over to develop craft, to live and learn something worth sharing.

During my absence from writing, much has been written about writing and publishing—articles that have resonated so deeply, I find myself vigorously nodding along:

Kaitlin Curtice

’s excellent four-part series on sustainable publishing (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4).

Jen Pollock Michel

's thought-provoking essay The Day I Decided to Quit Publishing.

Lore Wilbert

’s experience in the publishing industry and the questions she has about it.

Karen Swallow Prior

’s encouraging re-definition of platform.

Each of which makes me want to sit down with the traditional publishing industry and have a DTR talk. You remember in the dating world when two people wanted to Define The Relationship, right?

Who are we together? What are we calling this relationship? Are we in it for the long haul?

Except, in this DTR, I’m telling the traditional publishing industry:

Look, you are clearly super attractive, but I’m tired of you telling me what to do. I don’t need you in order to call myself a legitimate writer and speaker, so I’m done bending over backwards to please you.

I don’t know what it looks like to write without the pressure of growing a following.

It might look like throwing a publishing schedule out the window.
It might look like trying on other genres.
It might look like tackling new topics.
It might look like playful experimentation.
It might look like setting aside the work on my second book, in an effort to live out its message instead of writing it.

I think it looks like freedom.

Something I wrote: Hearing from God is a lot like falling asleep, in that you can’t make it happen. How to Create the Right Conditions to Hear from God was published a while ago over at Grit & Virtue and I’m sharing it again here!

Something I read and loved: A few novels come to mind, books I would recommend with no hesitation! I hope you enjoy Good Night, Irene by Luis Alberto Urrea, Family Family by Laurie Frankel, and The Mostly True Story of Tanner and Louise by Colleen Oakley as much as I did!

Something I listened to: The 2 Minute Morning on the Things Above Podcast with James Bryan Smith was excellent! I can’t wait to put this new-to-me spiritual practice into action.

Something I’m cooking: I’ve made this Easy Chickpea Curry twice in the last few weeks and everyone loves it! (I don’t know how you feel about cilantro—people either love it or hate it—but we found it added a lot to the overall flavor of the dish.) Our guests even asked for the recipe, so I thought I’d share it here.

If you would like some helpful writing prompts to reflect on your own journey (of writing, of faith, of motherhood, of creativity, of whatever path you’re on), grab these five journal prompts to find clarity!

This FREE resource is available in the Free for You section of my website. (The password should be in your welcome email, but please do hit reply if you forgot the password!)

Until next time,