Heather Thompson Books

Writing can be a challenge. Not because I don’t have anything to say but because what sounds good in my mind suddenly sounds horrible when it’s typed or written out (yes, I still do handwritten notes). This is the plight many writers face, and it comes from a myriad of places; mine comes from a complete lack of confidence in my abilities.

From childhood, I wanted to be a writer. I have notebooks filled with half-baked stories, poems and other writings that survived into adulthood (simply because I haven’t thrown most of it out yet).  When I was young, I loved to read and devoured books constantly. I still have some of my old tween series books that I can’t bring myself to part with.

So where did it all go so horribly wrong? Oh, many places.

See, there’s a verse in the Bible that says that the enemy tries to wear out the saints (Daniel 7:25 ESV) and it doesn’t start when you’re an adult – it starts when you’re a child. Trauma seeds get planted into your heart, spirit and mind when you’re young and they grow into mature fears and anxieties as you reach adulthood.

No matter who you are, eventually words or actions toward you on the same topic get you thinking. If people constantly say you’re loud – you wonder if that’s true and try to regulate your sound; if you’re constantly told you’re fat well, you know where I’m going with this…

For me, I was told by outside forces (not my parents) that I was a terrible writer. These things came to my mind this week like an avalanche as I wondered what held me back from doing the one thing I always wanted to do. It started in college – liberal establishment college. My writing style didn’t fit the mold, so I had at least 4 teachers tell me I was bad at it, even though I graduated with a minor in professional writing.

Then it happened again with my first job; I was assigned to write a short blurb for a company we worked with, so I did. My boss told me to write it again, so I did. Then he told me to write it again, so I did. Until it became very heartbreaking to me that no matter how I wrote this blurb it wasn’t good enough. Then, in front of a colleague of mine, he told her that I was a terrible writer.

And just like that – zing.

The wonderful thing about God is that we are not the words formed against us. We are the words HE formed for us. My God wanted me to write; He gave me that gift. Am I perfect? No. Is the worldly critique of writing subjective? Absolutely, it is. But, I am not required to hold or even entertain negative words against me that are contrary to what my God says about me.

So, I won’t. And neither should you.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *