Into the Fire

I am not a competitor. Too insecure. A poor sport really. Have been since I was a little girl when I was getting whupped by adults in a game of Monopoly and ran weeping to my room in protest. When I could run as fast as my peers in grade school, I liked to race in the 50 yard dashes. It didn’t take long for my athletic ability to be considerably outgrown by others and my desire to compete vanished with it.

There was one area in my youth where I didn’t mind competing in a limited capacity, and that was at a dude ranch I attended every summer for three wonderful years. On the final Saturday before the Sunday everyone either went home or stayed on for one more week, there would be a horse show in the arena for three levels of riders with the horse each had been assigned for that week. I felt competent and confident there, having acquired a love for “my” particular horse over that week’s time. These weren’t fancy shows by any means, but they were fun, and I won a ribbon or two.

In any competition there are risks, some more and greater than others. Risk-takers thrive on competition, and those who reap enjoyment from it usually perform well within the field of their skills.

The publishing business is a risky business. Built on speculations of what people want to hear, read, and buy from newspapers to pamphlets to books, some publishers have exceeded their initial prognostications and others have tanked incurring large debts. In terms of being somewhat “new” to the game of publishing, Christian publishing is in its heyday catching the hawk eyes of the general market icons and causing the smaller publishers to be snatched up by the some of the big boys of the biz, giving the Christian markets their own imprints.

Writing has always been a risk and consequently it is also a competition. Surely not every writer of fiction should have his work formally produced by a name publisher, which infers that only so many will win the “lottery” spots for the x amount of books produced in one year by each publisher, Christian or otherwise. For example, if a publisher allots x amount of romance novels, x amount of thrillers or mysteries, and x amount of historicals to be rendered during one year, there is an extreme competition for those spots. Agents and editors push to get certain manuscripts noticed while championing their clients’ platforms much like what is done by the auctioneer overseeing the sales ring for Thoroughbreds regarding their pedigrees. Not only is the writing competing, the accomplishments are stacked up against one another for their merit and the “right” to be considered.

For those of us who are woefully short on credentials, this isn’t even a risk. It’s a strike against us. The professionals will argue that if you write a “great” story the platform requirements will diminish, but, hey, let’s get real here. They also stress writing a “great” query and a “great” book proposal and required within that “great” proposal is not only your synopsis and story pages but your marketing methods and your job qualifications. In other words why should they believe you understand and have executed the requirements for telling a story and miracle of miracles if you have done so, how’re you going to sell it? Surely you know a degree in English, literature, or one of its derivatives is a boon to your novel cred, and having written a regular column for your city’s paper or some articles in recognized magazines must mean you can effectively do fiction within the confines of 80,000 words. Your website is spectacular and informative, citing the acceptable rules and directions for writing novels. And you’ve been attending two of the major writers’ conferences per year making the necessary contacts and establishing networks with your vivacious personality. Right? Considerably decreases the risk factor, wouldn’t you say?

Well, all those things are wonderful if you’re young enough and have the funds to accomplish those particular accomplishments before or during the writing of your novel. Of course there are authors who have transcended to the publishing ranks with just a good story to their credits, but let’s be honest. The publishing people want reasons to promote you that they don’t have to get creative about—think of the irony there.

I can generally tell by the blogs or websites of authors who the competitors are, which of them thrive on the risk factors of publishing, poised to compete with their books. I can easily sense it in the wannabes, too. Their eagerness to adhere to anything that will get them into the publishing arena plus their quick dogmatic criticisms of anything they’ve learned or believe to be no-nos, parroting their favorite agent, editor, or author, mark them as single-minded pursuers of getting that first contract and many more to follow.

Okay. Let me tell you what I think is the true risk factor. Studying by reading novel after novel, feeling the nudge or hearing the pronounced call from the Holy Spirit to begin laying down those words in story form, learning the ins and outs of the biz without turning into an idol worshipper of those folks (agents, editors, authors) who’ve “made” it, listening to your writer’s voice without fretting about it being too this or not enough like his/hers, truly thinking about who you are as a writer for God’s glory, making a decision to adhere to what the Lord has for you regardless of what that entails . . . When you can do these things in communion with the Lord under His direction, you are fully prepared to be involved in the ultimate risk factor with your writing. What you have essentially committed to by facing these challenges is the yielding of your gifts, talents, abilities, novels to the One who’s allowed you to write at all. You’ve decided what He wants for you is better than what you want for you. You’ve placed your trust in His decisions instead of your own. That’s why I called it the ultimate risk factor. That kind of giving over and giving up isn’t easy for us. Not as people. Not as writers.

Of course I know it isn’t really a risk to give who you are and who you will become to the Lord. But it feels like it is for most of us. Once we get there, though, the going is a whole lot easier than when we tried to go it alone. You can trust me on that one.

Father, thank you for what you’ve given me along the writing way. I know what you have for me is far better than what I could foresee for myself. If I will stick to discovering your plan, I will experience the blessing that follows obedience, whatever and however you decide. That constitutes genuine reward. Apart from you, I can do nothing. I’m desperate for you. I love you, Lord. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please pray for Kristy Dykes and her family.*