Writing often comes by the sweat of one’s brow. Had I waited for inspiration throughout my writing career, I would have written few words. Most of what I’ve written over the years has come from sheer perseverance and a strong determination to get the job done.
Do you ever get just plain sick of doing this?
As writers it is so necessary to market. We know it’s part of being a good steward of our ministry. And we’d all much rather be writing our inspirational books to encourage readers in their faith, than having to infiltrate the market through Twitter, Facebook, Linkedin, Google, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
But we have to do it, no matter how against the grain it rubs.
This discomfort gets increasingly worse when we have a new release. And it seems we need to push forward our front cover pictures, author pics, book trailers, whatever.
I become increasingly embarrassed with each successive shove of my stuff forward, and I start to withdraw inwardly.
That inward withdrawal has become a place of rest, because the only place I can find comfort from the chafing of marketing is in sitting quietly with the Lord.
I like to think of walking up the mountain with the Lord Jesus after He’s had a busy day speaking to the multitudes. Mind you, He didn’t shove His face forward like I have to do. He always directed His followers to worship God the Father.
Still though, I like to walk up the mountain with Him, and sit down. Say nothing for a while, just rest in the fact that He has promised to never leave me. Let the high-up fresh air blow through my hair. Whisk away the strain of publicity and marketing.
And just be with Him.
“Be still and know that I am God,” He says.
Then I can talk to Him, and tell Him how I really feel. That I do get a rush of adrenaline when I see my face out there, when I see my book cover out there. That after my speaking engagements are over, and people come forward to chat or have me autograph a book for them, I do get a rush of . . . of what?
Oh dear Lord, is it pride?
Please let it not be so.
Surely it’s just adrenaline? Surely, it’s just the joy of knowing that the speaking part is over and You did an amazing job of encouraging the listeners, the readers.
But part of me sighs deep down. I think there is a stain of pride. There is something inside me that did enjoy that few minutes of fame. That I liked it.
And that is when I must look my Lord Jesus in the face, and say, “I’m sorry. How utterly silly of me. Let me just look at You for a while, and listen to You, and let You cleanse my foolish soul.”
“Eye contact with your audience is vital,” the presenter said at a seminar I attended.
Eye contact? Gulp. Being blind, how in the world would I manage that?
It was a crazy idea anyway for me to become a speaker. I’ll just share my stories and inspiration with groups of close friends. That became my plan.
But God had a different one.
Happy Labor Day from Jeanette! While researching a new book idea I stumbled upon this bit of historical trivia: Labor Day was official recognized in 1894 when President Grover Cleveland signed a law establishing it as a national holiday. The observance actually dates back to September 5, 1882 when workers paraded in New York City, fighting for unionization and an eight-hour work day. Declaring it a holiday was the president’s way of honoring the American workforce. By the early 20th century Labor Day marked the official end of summer.
As a kid Labor Day meant:
• A barbecue with neighbors
• Anticipating the first day of school
• The Jerry Lewis Telethon
I don’t think I even knew what Labor Day meant. Even as an adult it’s easy to let the meaning slip past me as I try to work in a final dose of summer fun. So today I’d like to take advantage of this historical day to honor my fellow hard-working writers.