Ann Without an “E”
My husband, Jon, has always been my biggest cheerleader when it comes to writing (or anything I do). In 2020, he sent me this post “The Gift of Frustrated Passions,” by Ann Swindell, because he knew I would feel both seen and pointed toward Christ.
“As mothers, our desires and passions may need to be shelved for years at a time…But as I sought the Lord’s help, asking him what to do with my feeling of frustration, he began showing me that the frustration itself was a gift—and a way to point me back to him,” she writes.
Jon was right, of course. I felt seen in my frustrations, known for my passions, and ultimately pointed toward Jesus (and not myself). I immediately found Ann online and signed up for her e-mail newsletter. For a couple years her annual writing cohort (or mastermind) beckoned me. Each summer I would pray and consider applying, but would feel a sense of pause, still understanding the all too familiar answer of “not yet.”
Somewhere in the waiting, I had an idea for a character—a teen girl. I quickly had an entire story in mind, like I knew her. The scenes in my thoughts unfolded and popped up like 3-D memories. I didn’t know what to do this story, though.
Non-fiction writing is familiar territory for me. But fiction? Young adult fiction? I knew nothing of writing in that space and honestly not a lot about reading in that genre either. But I view writing as an endeavor of faithfulness, and it seemed to me that the Lord had given me the space and direction for this idea, so I started writing this character and her story, chipping away so. very. slowly. while caring for our home, homeschooling, and leading small groups.
For some of that time I was also working on staff at our church and volunteering with a foster children advocacy organization. It was hard to not to consider, “if I just quit everything and send my kids to school, I could finally just hole up and give myself to writing.” But I have learned that without the work I do with the people physically around me, there is nothing to write. Nothing true, at least.
In January 2023, I took an online fiction writing class with Ann Swindell. I sent her a sample of my novel’s first chapter and then we got to talk through it on the phone. Her feedback was gold. A professional writer and teacher, a published author, took my work seriously—and she enthusiastically encouraged me to apply for her writing cohort when the door opened that summer. I prayed and consulted with Jon. “It’s time” was the encouragement.
As I filled out the application and listed out my ideas for other writing projects, I realized that all the other seasons I considered applying for the mastermind just would not have been the right timing. I submitted the application with a stomach-churning mix of hope, excitement, fear, and vulnerability.
When I received Ann’s e-mail officially inviting me to the Writing With Grace cohort, I was at a snow cone shop with my daughters and niece. Sitting with my girls, I wrote back immediately to accept the invitation with tears in my eyes. The memory will always be tied to the sticky sweet smell of flavored sugar syrup.
“Yes” Doesn’t Mean “Easy”
The writing didn’t magically become easier once I was “in.” I had these grand expectations of all that would get done in the cohort year. But these were completely uncharted waters for me. I had no solid idea of what I was getting myself into.
I thought I would finally be swimming in my dream projects, pulling others in with me. I thought I would somehow be churning out blog posts, amassing traffic to my little author website so agents would give me the time of day when I needed to query with a manuscript. I thought I would stride across the finish line with a finished novel and checklist of agents to send my work to and a platform in the tens of thousands. (I’ve always been an outlandish dreamer…) I thought “it’s finally happening.” *
As it goes with me and my lofty ideas: I was humbled. Very, very humbled. My schedule didn’t suddenly gape open for long, uninterrupted stretches of time. Afterall, I have three children, including a toddler. In fact, schedule-wise, it only seemed harder to write and more and more legitimate needs kept cropping up in my circle of community.
Legitimate needs and priorities filled in so much that I was frequently brought to my knees to ask God: What does faithfulness in my minimal free time look like today? Laundry? A meal for that friend? Grading papers for co-op? A phone call to my sister? Writing that story? Working on that essay? Giving attention to the novel?
So I had to hold ev-er-y-thing about ev-er-y day with openness and seek to be faithful with how my hands were directed. It’s not simply a prayer habit for those trying to balance life and writing. It’s how all of us can sow intentionality into our days, proving worth in every task great and small.
“So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.”
– 1 Corinthians 10:31
The Gift of Waiting
When I’m in the middle of tempering frustrated expectations taming frustrated passions, I’m not seeing it is a gift. (I’m restless and fussy about it.) But what disciplines ever feel like a gift until further down the road? When does it feel fun to lifting weights or make freezer meals or stumble through the messiness of community? But the disciplines are worth it when we find ourselves stronger, our families nourished, and our relationships stronger.
God has used the time and the specific people in my writing cohort to guide the waters of my writing life to flow along the same current as everything else in my life. I see the gift of waiting for the right cohort year to be with the particular women I have worked with and prayed for. I see the beauty in their varied callings, passions, and processes.
I see the gift of waiting for my writing to say what it needs to say. I see the gift of waiting for my haughtiness to be tempered and tamped down with some humble pie chucked at me when needed.
Yes, I have written a lot since our cohort began (I sure look forward to sharing it with you!), but that ended up not being the point of it all for me. The whole point, the whole need was community. As ever. I’m not meant to be a lone wolf writer with her own to-do list of writing ideas. I’m not meant to shut out the physical, tangible needs of the people around me.
There is a resurgence of conversations examining the transcendentals of “truth, goodness, and beauty” and I am so here for it. All things true, good, and beautiful come from and point to God. And He is our God who exists in community: Father, Son, Holy Spirit. And there is good grace in waiting well to do whatever it is we long to do when the waiting makes space for the right kind of community. Waiting through frustrated passions is a kind of grace I did not ask for, but am finally grateful for.
There is truth in waiting.
There is goodness in waiting.
There is beauty in waiting.
* To be crystal clear: Ann makes zero promises of any such things with her cohort because that is not how she defines “success” as a Christian writer and also she lacks the superpowers needed to add 100 extra hours to a writer’s week. = )
Beautiful! Loved this line "Without the work I do with the people physically around me, there is nothing to write. Nothing true, at least." Keep it up sister!
That was such a fun read! Excited to see part 3!