Last February I joined an online writers group called Hope*writers. Immediately, I began listening to their interviews with publishing professionals and reading through their library on the craft of writing, and the business of publishing and marketing. Drinking from this firehose, reminded me of the day King Josiah discovered the Book of the Law and realized he and his people had been doing everything wrong.
For example, I reread a book proposal I’d just sent to an agent and found a typo within the first paragraph. I was no longer sure the proposal was accurate or compelling because I learned I still needed to refine my message, my reader, and the book’s benefit.
I discovered I needed a lead magnet, whatever that was, so readers of my blog would subscribe. I needed an email list of subscribers, so I could prove to publishers or agents that I already had a following chomping at the bit to read my upcoming work. I had none of this nor the technical expertise to put it in place.
Measuring myself by those who’d already accomplished all this and more, I became overwhelmed and paralyzed.
But then I engaged with smaller circles within the larger group, and found I was not the only one drowning in information or dropping off the steep learning curve. In fact, I knew some stuff others were happy for me to share. So, I trudged on, learning how to use Facebook Live and how to Zoom. I learned how to create a free offering to thank my subscribers. My husband helped me figure out Mailchimp, and I networked with fellow bloggers to grow my subscriber list. Slowly but surely I moved forward.
I can’t believe a year has passed since I joined this online group of writers, a crazy, creepy year in the world at large, but incredibly fruitful for me creatively.
I self-published a book about what I learned from teaching in an urban middle school, Teacher Dropout, Finding Grace in an Unjust School.
I’ve created this blog and have posted regularly.
I’ve edited another memoir about coming of age and coming to Christ during the cultural earthquake that occurred when Leave it to Beaver collided with Woodstock.
Just recently, I engaged with still another network of writers working on their book proposals, so it feels as if I’ve come full circle to where I was with my writing one year ago.
When I think of King Josiah now, it’s not only as a King who literally tore his clothes in grief at how he and his people didn’t measure up to God’s commandments.
But rather, as a King who threw out, burned up and ground to powder anything that competed with his God for glory.
Comparison, I’ve come to realize, is a kind of idolatry, a way of gauging myself by other’s accomplishments instead of by the grace of God.
Instead, I need to trust I’m created with a unique body of experiences, and talents all my own to use for his purposes.
This truth sets me free me to take one step at a time, patient with my own pace, knowing that we are on earth, not to compete with each other, but to complement each other. Complement, as in the word complete.
Therefore, in this new year, whenever thoughts of comparison cross my mind, instead of being paralyzed, I will grind them to powder and look for those I can help and those who can help me complete our various missions from the Lord.
Thanks to Christian Kaindl for the photo of a measuring stick on Unsplash
