Writers, Don’t Wait for the Lights to Turn Green

July 1, 2016 By: Angela Parlin

Welcome back to Edition 3 of {Beauty in the Chaos of a Writer’s Life}, in connection with #Ladder2Rooftop Academy.

Today I thought we’d play a little game of Red Light, Green Light.

Because sometimes you stick your neck out in this writing journey, and the Powers That Be answer with a painful no. Red Light.

Other times, a door opens wide when you least expect it, and you push on the gas and move forward. Green Light.

Sometimes, you send off a submission, and the answer never comes. Obviously, it’s a no, but you spent a long time waiting. Red Light.

Then some day when you’re discouraged, a reader tells you, “Your words made me feel less alone.” Which is what you always hoped to offer. Green Light.

There’s another Red Light I’ve allowed to stop me too many times. It’s looks like shrinking back behind the desk, afraid to say what you’re working on, afraid of rejection, afraid of what it might mean about you.

Fear becomes a persistent red light, keeping us at a standstill. Fear prevents us from ever moving forward. It prevents us from submitting at all sometimes.

I’m sad to say that I know too well the red light of fear in the writing journey. It’s probably half the chaos of the writer’s life for me. But by now, I hope you know where I’m going with this.

There’s So Much Beauty in All This Chaos, and I’m fixing to point us back to the beauty.

What is helping me move past the red light of fear these days? Three things: Readers, Gold, and a Different Fear. Let me explain, because maybe they’ll help you, too.

Readers

A few months ago, I read through reader comments from my blog, facebook posts, and twitter messages. I printed out a bulleted list of many of these, and hung it above my desk. What I found was this theme: “You helped me see things a different way,” and “I needed that reminder.”

In this season, I write about things I need to be reminded of, and my readers do also. I believe I’m called to remind people to see the beauty in the chaos, the beauty we easily lose sight of when life swirls fast around us. When I remember and care for the people who might read my words, rather than writing from a place of self-preservation, the light turns green and I move past the fear.

Gold

My Bible calls it the Parable of the Bags of Gold. Because don’t you know we’ve all been given bags of gold? It’s a lovely way to say gifts or talents. We’ve been entrusted with some of the Lord’s gold, so to speak. (See Matthew 25.)

It doesn’t really matter what’s in our bags of gold.

It doesn’t matter how many bags of gold we have, or if the bags are heavy or light. What matters is what we do with the gold we’ve been given.

What are your bags of gold?

Writing is one of mine. I’ve been told this since grade school, and I don’t mean only by my own Mom and Dad. 🙂 There are a crowd of dear faces in my head right now, who took a moment along the way, to tell me they saw this bag of gold in my hands. (Thank you each!)

With this bag of gold, and the others I’ve been entrusted, I want to be faithful. I don’t want to dig a hole and bury them in the ground. I want to invest them widely and see what might grow. I have a feeling you want the same.

A Different Fear

I’m afraid of something more, and it’s pushing me past my fear of rejection. I’m afraid of wasting my life, of wasting what I’ve been given. I think this is a healthy fear.

We are all given only so much time here, and so much talent. There are many ways to take what’s in our own hands and make it count. But we all have to decide where we’ll invest and what we’ll do with the time and talents we have.

As in any journey, there will be red lights. Just make sure you’re not creating your own.

And writers–don’t wait for all the lights to turn green.

~Angela

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What Age Do You Feel on the Inside?

June 23, 2016 By: Angela Parlin

“It’s kinda boring in here, Mom. There’s nothing colorful about this place.”

She says this a little sassy, from a plain old emergency room bed. She’s drawing a picture in her fancy notebook, and watching Liv & Maddie on the corner television. Most importantly, she’s breathing slower. She’s acting like herself again.

We wait for medications to wear off, and these unplanned hospital hours have me thinking. A Carrie Underwood song I played last week, on the day I turned 40, runs through my head:

“Whenever you remember times gone by,

Remember how we held our heads so high.

When all this world was there for us,

And we believed that we could touch the sky…”

(“Whenever You Remember” lyrics)

Time has a way of humbling us, doesn’t it? I no longer believe I could touch the sky. Not like that anyway. I also don’t feel 40.

The age we feel on the outside never seems to match the way we feel on the inside.

Do you know what I mean?

When I turned 30, a friend asked me if I felt older. I said I felt about 17. I told my older sister yesterday, now that I’m 40, I feel a good strong 27 inside. Maybe it’s only lingering optimism, although it wasn’t all pretty then.

On my 27th birthday, I woke, sobbing, with Temporary Insanity. My overdue “little tiny” still had not joined us. I thought I’d be pregnant forever with that one.

Eventually, he arrived, and 27 began this giant growth spurt that is motherhood…

Read the rest of this post at PurposefulFaith.com!

#PrayforOrlando

June 13, 2016 By: Angela Parlin

I’m still processing what just happened this weekend, and I’m painfully slow.

I want to say something. I want to do something. I want it to stop. And I don’t think it will anytime soon.

I’m praying for all the hurting people, the ones I saw on the news and the ones I didn’t.

I’m praying for their comfort. I’m praying they’ll feel the nearness of the Lord to their broken hearts.

I’m praying for those amazing Floridians I follow on social media. For those who are out there, walking the streets, looking for people they can put their arms around and sit with and listen to. I’m praying for the officials, the enforcers, the risk-takers, the ones who work to save.

I’m praying as I walk through my ordinary Monday, because the pain of so many people is important. Because the senseless killings are overwhelming. Because I just don’t understand. Because I may not be near the hurting myself, but I know Jesus is near.

I spend too much time on social media.

Sometimes I read too many posts, with differing points of view, when events like the #OrlandoShooting happens. I guess I’m looking for help with processing my thoughts, for hopeful perspectives. That’s not always what I find.

Sometimes behind these screens, people shout hurtful things rather than caring for the suffering. Sometimes people take the opportunity to call out other people for not responding the way they’ve decided they should. Sometimes it’s all politics, politics and blame. Sometimes the internet shouters even scold people for being more sad and overwhelmed by one tragedy over another.

Sometimes these noisy interwebs suck the hope right out of my heart.

But today, I’ve seen something better, and while I know the junk is still out there, today I’m seeing a whole lot of love. Maybe I’m getting better at sifting through what I read, but in any case, I’m encouraged by so many shows of solidarity, by so many prayers and expressions of care and concern.

We live in a world where a place of dancing turns into a place of mourning overnight. When this happens, what do we do?

We mourn with those who mourn.

We weep with those who weep.

We use the power we’ve been given in prayer.

We look to the Lord because He’s the One who remains our Rock.

Because He’s our Refuge, our Strength, our Shelter from all the storms of this life.

We ask Him to lead us when there’s more for us to do.

May these ancient words, which have been floating through my head today, infuse your raw heart with hope as you mourn our nation’s losses.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. Psalm 56:8, NLT

The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe. Proverbs 18:10

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not be afraid. John 14:27

All We Like Sheep, Dust, & Grasshoppers

June 6, 2016 By: Angela Parlin

Sometimes we need to be reminded what’s true about ourselves.

The swirl and chaos of life leave an Out of Order sign on our insides. We forget. We simply lose sight.

We lose sight of what’s real and true and important. Our eyes fill up with what’s in front of us, whatever mountain we have to climb, the challenges we face. And so we need to remember we are God’s masterpieces, and He treasures us. He made us wonderfully and with intention. He wants us to draw near to Him.

By God’s own definition, we are wanted and chosen and so very loved.

But sometimes I wonder if we don’t need to be reminded more often who God is—instead of who we are. I sat in my corner chair-with-a-view this morning, looking out at the sky and the birds and the backyard trees, realizing the freedom I find in lifting my eyes to heaven.

When I fix my eyes on Jesus, I’m free from so many thoughts of me. From so many needs. So many desires. So many distractions.

The truth is, I don’t only need a better view of myself each day—I need a better view of God. I need to fill up with who He is, not only focus on who I am.

I need to think less of me, and more of Him.

I was reading Isaiah 40. In which the prophet compares human beings to a variety of things. Some are questionable. Isaiah continues to point back to God, but nothing comes close to comparing with Him.

We are like grass that withers, like flowers that fall. But the Word of the Lord will endure forever.

We are the flock He gathers in His arms. He is the Shepherd who carries us close to His heart, who gently leads those who have young.

We are only a drop in a bucket. We are dust on the scales, like unto nothing. But He holds the dust of the earth in a basket. He weighs the mountains on His scales.

He stretches out the heavens like a tent to live in. He blows on the rulers of this world, reducing them to nothing.

He sits enthroned above the circle of the earth.

And from His view? We look like grasshoppers. Grasshoppers! Now that’s humbling. Which is really the point.

God is our incomparable Creator. His understanding is so far beyond ours. He even calls each of the stars by name. He’s never exhausted, never weary. He is power and might. He’s the everlasting God, the amazing Creator of the ends of the earth.

Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens.

Our lives tangle up in chaos, often. We stumble. We fight. We exhaust ourselves. We hope. We hurt. We pray. We seek help. We work hard. We lay low. We escape the chaos when given the chance.

But through it all, our Creator is near. He always loves. Always sees. He’s always just. Always right. Always giving. Always true. Always worth following. Always on the throne. Always worthy and awesome and incomparable. His beauty remains.

Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth…

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.

(verses 28-29)

Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens.

Because sometimes, we just need to be reminded of what’s real and true and important.

*See this post also at Angela Nazworth’s site, for her series on Sight.

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Who Will Teach You To Write?

May 31, 2016 By: Angela Parlin

Welcome to the 2nd Edition of {Beauty in the Chaos of a Writer’s Life}, where I write about writing, for the Ladder2Rooftop Academy with Jami Amerine of Sacred Ground, Sticky Floors. So glad you’re here!

It probably goes without saying, that to be a great writer, you must be (or become) a great reader.

I’ve heard a number of authors state this number one tip for wannabe writers: READ. Read widely. Read often. Read the dead. Read the living. Just read!

Are you an avid reader, or is this an area in which you hope to grow?

The best way to begin reading more (besides setting goals) is to get yourself a writing assignment. With a deadline. Under these circumstances, you will LOVE reading. You will NEED to read. Then pages read will create momentum, and you’ll be on your way. So I’ve heard. 🙂

I encourage writers to read a wide variety of types of books, but today I recommend one of the best books I have ever found on writing–The Writing Life, by Annie Dillard. It’s the kind of book you want to read again and again. The kind of book you need.

Annie Dillard is wise and warm and brilliant. She spells out the trials of the writing life, and the joys. She tells the truth, and then gives us the courage to begin. Listen to this little excerpt:

“Who will teach me to write?”

“The page, the page, that eternal blankness, the blankness of eternity which you cover slowly, affirming time’s scrawl as a right and your daring as necessity;

“The page, which you cover woodenly, ruining it, but asserting your freedom and power to act, acknowledging that you ruin everything you touch but touching it nevertheless, because acting is better than being here in mere opacity;

“The page, which you cover slowly with the crabbed thread of your gut; the page in the purity of its possibilities; the page of your death, against which you pit such flawed excellences as you can muster with all your life’s strength:

“That page will teach you to write.” (Annie Dillard)

The first time I read The Writing Life, I was taken by this drama. The page, the page, that eternal blankness… I scribbled it in the back of a journal. I laughed, thinking it was some kind of joke. At least a writerly exaggeration.

The page of your death, I copied, half hoping I would never need to become that kind of writer. Can’t I just sit at my favorite desk with the backyard view and the background music and the words flowing? I watch movies. I’ve caught the vision.

This was early in my writing journey, and I basically knew not much. I didn’t know how hard it would be to consistently fill pages with words that mattered.

Writing is hard for many reasons. Dillard explores many in this book. In my experience, you don’t know how hard it is, until you walk down the road a bit. You end up looking for secrets, for magic to make it easier. You hate the blank page. Until you fill it hundreds and thousands of times, and then you understand.

The page has become your best teacher.

And so you continue to cover it thoughtfully. You assert yourself, inside the blankness of eternity. You lay out your life in fragments and gather thoughts onto the page long before they make sense. You take action. You keep on.

A writer friend told me that when you’ve filled thousands of blank pages, you have begun. As in, you’ve only just begun. She said it like she was offering me hope, like we should be cheering this beginning. I felt it was too little to celebrate. I had a lot to learn. (*have)

You’re in a good place, writer.

I want to encourage you to keep daring. Begin with the page, the page of your death (but hopefully not).

Cover it. Ruin it. Assert yourself. Act. For there, on that page, you will learn.

*Don’t forget to pick up a copy of The Writing Life.

You’re welcome. 🙂

~Angela

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Writers, Don’t Wait for the Lights to Turn Green

Today I thought we’d play a little game of Red Light, Green Light.