Listen to Lily by Jane Walters

Since the summer – when John Lewis had a glorious sale and I nabbed myself a bargain – I’ve been wearing a smart watch, called Lily. She’s a sports model, so we’re fundamentally incompatible, but she’d been offering a useful gauge of how I use my body.

Every night, I connect my phone via Bluetooth and download the day’s stats. The display shows a series of mostly-orange jagged charts, recording my stress levels, accompanied by a couple of doom-laden statements about potential ‘bottoming out’ (how very dare she!) or ‘burning out’ or being ‘in danger of…’ Every morning, I do similarly to find out how *well* I’ve slept. For the record, last night I did very well indeed: I didn’t move at all for about three hours straight, which might explain how stiff I was when I got up…

Flippancy aside, this little gadget, with its passive-aggressive commentary on my hectic lifestyle, is making a fair point. It’s actually one that I could have learned some years ago, from preparing a pupil for her Grade 5 flute exam. The girl was a very capable player and had practised diligently. We anticipated a merit or even distinction, but she managed only a pass. Why? Because the week of her exam coincided with a ballet stint at the local theatre’s Christmas show. Put simply, she was tired. It made all the difference.

Us writers are in a constant battle. The blank screen or page is a taunting enemy to be subdued and silenced (and, hopefully, covered up in dense black lettering). Our minds tell us all kinds of unhelpful things: from how useless we are to how much ironing awaits us or how suddenly hungry/thirsty we are. We’re at odds sometimes with friends and family who don’t understand our needs, or how important this all is to us. 

No wonder we’re tired.

No wonder the words don’t flow when we expect them to.

No wonder we get disappointed with ourselves, with stupid publishers, and even with God.

So, let’s stop for a moment, shall we? 

Take a few deep breaths – in through the nose, out through the mouth.

Lower your shoulders, uncrinkle your brow.

This writing adventure was never designed to be a solo expedition into hostile terrain; but, instead, a thrilling journey taken hand-in-hand with the best of all guides: our lovely Lord Jesus. 2025 can be the year we do differently. I sense relief at the very idea, do you?

Jane Walters is Chair of ACW and leader of Green Pastures Christian Writers.

She is currently working on a new proposal for BRF Ministries as well as preparing for the next Ready Writers Retreat on 3 February. 

www.janewyattwalters.com

Instagram: @readywritersretreats