T'was the Night Before Publication... by Liz Carter

 

Twas the Night Before Publication…

…and all through the room,

all my thoughts they were stirring

and my mind steeped in Doom.

Anyone relate?

As it really is the night (well, the day) before publication for me, I thought I’d ponder a little on how bringing our books to birth can be such a starkly vulnerable time for us. You’ve worked hard for months (or perhaps years), you’ve poured every inch of yourselves into these pages, words have gushed forth and then you’ve crafted and edited and killed darlings and then gone back to the start all over again, perfecting and tweaking and looking up better synonyms on that online thesaurus (come on, admit it, you do that, right?)

You have written a book. You have achieved something great, but now is the time your book goes live to the world, and what if… what if the world hates it? What if the world laughs at you, or sees that you are, after all, just a fraud who pretends she can write? What if they write one-star reviews?

Have you ever written a book but not yet dared to seek publication in case of rejection, or dared to self-publish because it might not be very well-received (or just not so good?) You’re in good company. I bet most of us have one or two such manuscripts gathering dust at the bottom of a drawer or in the far distant reaches of our computer. I do. Most of us go through long periods of self-doubt in our writing journeys, and sometimes these times seem too overwhelming and stop the words flowing. Self-doubt can be a crushing thing, a selfish friend and a malicious enemy, and we all know it too well.

When it comes to publication it visits us in ever-starker forms, whispering loudly through our minds and telling us we are not enough. Never enough. All the voices are accusing, asking us why we ever decided to become a writer, and why on earth we have brought out a book for the world to see? What were we thinking? Everyone else can do it so much better!

Yep. That’s pretty much where I am, this week.

But it got me thinking once again about where I place my value. Do I place it only in other people’s views of my writing, or in reviews? Does my value plummet when someone is critical or unmoved by the words I poured my soul into? The problem is, of course, that if we do measure our worth by the thoughts of others then we will never be satisfied and never at peace with ourselves. We will only live in a kind of griping discontent, grasping for more to lift us and make us feel like we can write. It’s only when we learn to value ourselves in terms of God’s calling on us and love for us that we begin to live out wholeness as writers. I don’t think this means that we will suddenly become super-confident in ourselves (that might become annoying for others very quickly); I think it is more that we learn to push aside the need for approbation from others when we aim to please only one. It doesn’t mean, either, that we are not writing to please others - most writing is very much for others’ enjoyment, or encouragement, or empathy - but that in centering our need for being liked on God balances us out and helps us breathe a sigh of relief. God likes us, after all. God loves us, we know that, but how often do we reflect on how God likes us too? God likes that we write stuff that builds up, that makes people smile, that helps people escape. God has a big fat like button and keeps on clicking it, and that’s the like that matters.

How does this help, then, on the eve of publication, when you’re about to go public? My new book comes from a vulnerable place, written through shielding in a time blackness threatened to envelop me. It wasn’t written in a happy daze of my-best-author-life. It was born out of a choice to change direction when words kept fleeing away from me with the project I'd been working on, to write what my heart was bursting with - the joy and the sorrow. And because of that it feels even more vulnerable, somehow, and even more scary that these words will be out there for all to see. It leaves me a little bit shaky, a little bit fearful.

But it helps me to look to God for encouragement because this book is for God as well as for others and it’s his praise I need most of all. And remembering that I don’t have to earn that is a relief and a joy; remembering that his grace is big and wide, his love is unconditional and uncontainable. Maybe I would be better to simply sit back and bask in this love instead of worrying about what others think.

Let’s be real, though: I will worry. I will worry too much, and I know you do, too.

And that’s okay.

But perhaps we can learn a little more balance when we are afraid. Perhaps we can close our eyes to the world and fix them on things above. Perhaps we can practice the stillness of his presence and soak in the beauty of his gaze. Perhaps we can become so wrapped up in God that we forget about ourselves.

And perhaps that’s when we can finally let go and allow our words to fly as God wills.

Liz Carter is the author of Treasure in Dark Places: Stories and poems of hope in the hurting which officially publishes tomorrow, but is now available to buy here in paperback and ebook. Her first book, Catching Contentment, explored how to find peace in pain.