Writer's block

And a free gift for subscribing

Hello writers,

I have been sitting at my desk staring at a blank page for over an hour. (Okay, also drinking a lot of coffee, eating apple pie for breakfast, texting my mom, and my daughter, etc.)

I’m trying to decide what to write about. My mind feels jumpy (maybe it’s all that caffeine and sugar). I considered going for a walk but decided I must sit and write first.

This month has been a crazy year, hasn’t it? So much going on, most of which really is beyond the purview of this newsletter. So I sit, forcing myself to ponder, to decide on a topic to explore with you today. I ask myself:

Should I rerun this popular post from a year ago, about how to take baby steps in self-publishing by writing and publishing a devotional? And remind you that my Advent devotional, The Gift of Christmas Present, makes an excellent hostess gift to bring to whoever is hosting Thanksgiving? (And if you’re hosting Thanksgiving, you need to treat yourself to a copy?)

By the way, if you subscribe today, you’ll get a free sampler of The Gift of Christmas Present, along with my regular freebie, the Start Your Powerful Story Workbook. If you already subscribe and would like a link to the sampler, check the subscribers “chat” for info.

Or, should I remind you to invest in your writing, and of the value of having a book coach, and tell you about the fantastic My One-Year Memoir coaching group, led by bestselling author Susy Flory, that is now open to new registrants? If you want to write your memoir in 2025, but need practical teaching and accountability, you should sign up for this group. Learn the details by clicking the button:

Or, maybe I should I encourage you to keep working on your book. And remind you that if you are writing something other than a memoir, and are looking for a book coach, I can help with that. If that sounds interesting, click below for a free consultation.

Maybe I should talk about the fact that right now, writing might be difficult, but it is life’s difficulties that make our writing strong. Own every conversation, every feeling. Let them fuel your writing. Journal about everything going on in your heart and mind right now. Collect your thoughts like pretty fall leaves you press between the pages of a book. These beauties will find their way into whatever you write: a novel, a devotional, a memoir, a nonfiction book about how to keep going when things are hard.

In my own journal lately, I’ve returned to the practice of making a gratitude list. Three things a day. It’s hard. That’s why we call it a practice. It takes effort, and it won’t be perfect. I find myself staring at a blank page a lot. But sitting and waiting is sometimes the only path to the knowing. To clarity.

Give yourself time, friends. Write when writing is difficult. Sit at the computer or page, sip coffee. Eat pie if you must. Get something, even something not that great, onto the page. Write a draft. Revise.

Finally, I’ll leave you with this: do not give up. In her book, Walking on Water, Madeleine L’Engle retells a story once told by Lewis Carroll, of a small village, where an old clockmaker lived. After he died, no one was able to repair the clocks and watches in the village, and eventually, their time pieces stopped working. She writes:

“One day a renowned clockmaker and repairer came through the village, and the people crowded around him and begged him to fix their broken clocks and watches. He spent many hours looking at all the faulty time pieces, and at last he announced that he could repair only those whose owners had kept them wound, because they were the only ones which would be able to remember how to keep time.

“So we must daily keep things wound: that is, we must pray when prayer seems dry as dust; we must write when we are physically tired, when our hearts are heavy, when our bodies are in pain.

“We may not always be able to make our ‘clock’ run correctly, but at least we can keep it wound, so that it will not forget.”

Friends, in these days of digital watches and phones that tell us the time of day, we may forget the discipline or lose the meaning of the analogy. But writing requires faithful diligence, small daily practices.

What does “keeping things wound“ look like for you? Writing 500 words of a rough draft? Signing up for coaching? Writing a gratitude list? Deciding that no matter what, you will not give up?

P.S. Since it’s Thanksgiving next week, I do want to also add: I’m so thankful for you, my little community of writing readers. Thank you for reading, for encouraging one another in the comments, for writing. It matters.