I have frequently joked that I write better than I speak. It's true.
However, the underlying root of my deprecating humor sometimes stemmed from an internal fear that my life wouldn't measure up to my writing.
Through writing, I could take time to pause and think and present myself and my thoughts better than I did and often do in reality. On an even deeper level, I hoped that somehow my writing would make up for the parts of my life that were lacking. I could write about truths I believe in but don't always act on. I could express love on paper sometimes better than I do in actuality. I could hone my scattered thoughts and become more focused and careful with my language and tone.
I've long dreamed of impacting and encouraging the world through books and blogging. I've also privately been afraid that if all of my thoughts, past deeds, and present struggles were written or known, my ugliness would outshine my good.
That would be true if I didn’t believe in grace, forgiveness, and growth. For me and for you.
So I am refusing to stand and buckle beneath the weight of a perfectionist' fear anymore. I want to choose self-understanding in light of the work of art God intended each one of us to be.
I'm discovering some of the same tools I utilize for refining my passion can go hand-in-hand with the art of refining my person. And just as we can't expect perfection out of a rough draft manuscript, we can't expect our lives to be lived perfectly. We are all living and breathing rough drafts.
My husband and I stumbled upon a video by editor Helga Schier in which she recommends flagging (highlighting or marking with a sticky note something that you love/ like) as the first step in editing. After practicing with someone else's work while your own ink dries, she says to return to your work-in-progress and mark favorite words, passages, scenes, etc. The places which standout become the "base layer of your manuscript that will not change." She shares how it makes it easier to then strip away the excess later on the editing process because it enables you to "not get lost in itty bitty corrections when really what you need to do in the first revision is look at the bigger picture." (Author Learning Center)
I think this same process could be applied to many different art forms. I believe it could improve our actual lives, turning our own self- condemnation into healthy and constructive introspection.
If we flagged those parts of ourselves we are proud of and truly love- what we feel we are doing well in our marriage, motherhood, or work- wouldn't we be in a healthier starting place? A place where we could begin cultivating a reconciliation between our strengths and weaknesses.
Maybe our inner monologues could transform into voices of empowerment. Instead of "If I did this thing, I could be a better wife and a more present mother. . ." we could think, "I am good at this thing, so I'll expand on it here and use it as I enter into a new terrain over there."
Maybe by focusing on the "base layer" of our skills, it wouldn't be so overwhelming to implement small changes where needed. Maybe we could take steps toward cutting those bad habits we don't like talking about without nit-picking our entire selves. Maybe by recognizing our own strengths and skills, we could show our children how to prioritize, grow, and build instead of only tearing down.
Maybe would help us release the idea of perfection earth-side. Maybe it would help us end our own cycles of comparison, whether it be of ourselves, our husbands, or our children.
Maybe we could choose the hard work of owning our mistakes, forgiving ourselves and others, and seizing opportunities for growth.
Maybe by flagging and appreciating what we have and who we are . . . Our prayers would have more faith and our passion more fuel.
To paraphrase Jordan Lee Dooley, we could imperfectly pursue more than one thing because the pursuit won’t be about perfection, but about stepping out and investing in our callings. (For more on this, listen to Jordan’s inspiring interview on SHE Podcast, Episode: "Overcoming Perfectionism As You Pursue Your Dreams."
Growth is hard and full of discipline, but as my husband often reminds me, hard doesn’t necessarily mean bad. And discipline? It can be freeing to let go of some things on our journey towards others.
We live in such an either/or society we often lose sight of the overlay.
K. M. Weiland shares in her blog and podcast, Helping Writer's Become Authors, "In short, the emotional catharsis that informs powerful stories only arises out of artistic truthfulness. . . This is where our art has the ability to truly start informing our lives- and if we are willing to do the work, where we can further that understanding in our lives so that it returns to inform our art. This only happens when we as authors are willing to self- inspect both our work and ourselves." (Taking Your Writing to the Next Level: Whole-Life Art)
When I start berating myself for not balancing everything perfectly, I can remind myself that as I mature in marriage and motherhood, a deeper understanding is reflected in my writing. As I practice self-discipline in showing up for my art, self-discipline starts permeating other areas of my life.
When I let go of my need to appear perfect, I am happier and more balanced in all of my roles. I am willing to put in the effort of creating the best manuscript I can, and I am freed to let God mold me into the person He’s recognized all along.
The importance of outside perspective in editing reflects our need for it in real life.
When we start to flounder, we can turn toward our family and friends and ask them to remind us what our strengths are.
I decided I wanted to become a writer in high school. I was thrilled and simultaneously terrified. I was afraid of a future spent typing on a keyboard in solitude, locked away from real people and real experiences. I was also thrilled to explore and share the stories and truths that swam in my head and anchored my heart.
In her blog and podcast about whole-life art, K. M. Weiland went on to say, "Writers live much of our lives in our heads. But if we're living those imaginary lives at the expense of our real lives something is awry. Not only are we missing out on precious and irreplaceable reality, we're also risking distancing ourselves and our art from the very truths we're trying to access."
If our “base-layer” is covered in grace, we can do our best to walk out the reality of responsibility and the need for relationships.
Yes, it's exhausting work to be a stay-at-home mom and work-at-home writer, but we all have responsibilities and reasons to be exhausted.
The big-picture truth I need to remember is that I’ve chosen, wanted, and needed my exhaustion. When my mind starts to resent it, my heart yearns to flag it as good.
I want to be thankful for the difficulty of balancing the living embodiments of my dreams (my family) with my written dreams.
I can be encouraged to push myself forward and cut back elsewhere.
Editing is helping me see the value in choosing less clutter and more structure- both in my story and in my home.
It's prompting me to want to eat healthier so I can be more active and present with my kids and more mentally clear when I write.
I'm not immune to hitting ruts and feeling overwhelmed. I still recall a hard mothering week about two years ago when I could barely find time to read a five-minute article let alone write a novel’s first draft. I remember telling my husband, "I feel like I'm getting stupid. Like I'm losing my brain's capabilities.”
Now, some of that exhaustion has lifted. Our family has learned new rhythms. I’m not waking up throughout the night to feed babies. My husband gets to come home on his lunch break in the middle of the workday.
There are times when balance feels unachievable and our responsibilities are all-consuming. In those situations, we need to be purposeful with grace and rest.
Rhythms take time to form and growth even longer to nurture.
We can take our "base layer," whatever it may be, and learn to let go of whatever else we need to.
We can be proactive with our fears and constructive with our thoughts.
Defining and honing our passions can run parallel with refining our lives.
While I'll probably always dabble in self-deprecating humor, my prayer is that I'll learn to accept and grow from the imperfect mistakes in my life, launching off of my “base-layer” and into the freedom of revising my own rough drafts.
I hope you’ll join me.
Let’s flag what is good, especially when it’s hard to find.
Love,
Rachel