Writing Through Emotional Pain

Photo: Wikimedia Commons

Life happens. And sometimes it happens painfully. Professional writers must write even when their hearts are broken, and life is delivering its most powerful punches. 

I’ve lost two dear friends within a few months of one another and have another devastating situation in my family right now. Crying myself to sleep, navigating my days in a vice-like fog and swallowing a constant lump in my throat—these physical reactions to emotional pain challenge my ability, nay, my desire to write. But write I must, because, you see, I’m a writer. And that’s what we do. And the publishing world doesn’t care that I have issues. The publishing world will go right along publishing without me. 

The only way we can write through hard days is to keep our focus. And frankly, the only way we can survive through hard days is to keep our focus. The focus isn’t on the writing. The focus for the Christian writer is on Him.

Psalm 22:5 says, They cried to you and were saved; in you they trusted and were not disappointed (NIV). 

In Kay Arthur’s book, As Silver Refined: Answers to Life's Disappointments, she writes about how life’s disappointments are really His Appointments. By changing just one letter in the word, we have a whole new perspective because the focus is on Him. 

We can trust Him, even when things don’t make sense.

We can trust Him to give us the words to write even when we’re so broken we can barely move our pen over the page, or our fingers across the keyboard.

We can cry unto God, and not be disappointed.

We will be appointed.

We will write.

"Write, therefore, what you have seen, what is now and what will take place later"

(Revelation 1:19, NIV).

 Karla Akins is a pastor's wife, mother of five, grandma to five beautiful little girls and author of O Canada! Her Story. She lives in North Manchester with her husband, twin teenage boys with autism, and three silly dogs. Her favorite color is purple, favorite hobby is book-hoarding, and favorite food group is cupcakes.

Keeping Your Tiggers and Eeyores in Line

Do you ever hear someone get asked a question and wish they asked you?

This was my case in June, 2005. I sat in a Toastmaster club as area governor elect. (Okay, technically I was appointed. Details, details.) The theme for the meeting was Winnie the Pooh, a theme well used by the Topics Master.

My question was what I would write if I wrote a children's book. That was a fun question. I told them I'd write about an otter raised by a family of beavers. You can imagine what that's like. The otter wants to play while his adoptive parents are getting him to work on the dam. This otter would meet a wolf taken in by a cougar family. “I want to be part of the pack.” “What pack? We aren't a pack.”

However, when I heard the next question, I wished I had gotten that one instead.

“You are Winnie the Pooh. You've been given a free counseling session. Now, you're well adjusted and don't need it. Will you give it to Tigger to help calm him down? Or to Eeyore to cheer him up?”

I was about nine when Disney's Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day came out, which introduced Tigger. I fell in love with Tigger. I wanted to be as bouncy and fun as he was.

Growing up, though, I found my companion and mentor to be gloomy old Eeyore. “It will fall off again,” he said when his tail was put back on him. “Always does.”

If I wrote this blog yesterday, I would have dealt with a topic that interested me, one that would give food for thought. But this has been an Eeyore week for me. Just this week? Maybe all of this year. (Fortunately, we're only half way through January; hope this isn't a trend.)

My Eeyore side has been given plenty to be gloomy about. My wife's dealing with health problems. The only presidential candidate I could be excited about finished 6^th in Iowa and dropped out. My Amazon review of that candidate's auto-biography has the current line “1 out of 6 find this review helpful.” (My hunch is that the five who found that not helpful did so solely because I gave a five star review to a book they disagreed with, but still it's discouraging.)

Also, I received a rejection letter (okay, e-mail) from an agent who kindly mentions my characters and plot don't resonate with him. Not much to encourage me to write, something I've been struggling to find time to do. To be honest, I'm even wondering if writing is what I'm supposed to be doing.

Did the person who got the counseling question think Eeyore was the one who needed counseling? No, she thought it was Tigger who was too hyper. I can identify. Sometimes, my Tigger tries to compensate for the Eeyore. Time to get bouncy. Find other activities. Keep busy, busy, busy, so I don't have time to be gloomy, gloomy, gloomy.

So how would I have answered the question?

Simple. I would have given the counseling to neither of them. Rather, I'd get them Tigger and Eeyore to counsel each other. Have Eeyore kindly mellow out Tigger, while Tigger gives Eeyore something to be cheerful about.

That's one thing good about the ACFW meetings or critique groups. We can point out areas of improvement but give encouragement at the same time. (This is one of Toastmaster's strengths, by the way.)

And the counseling session? I'd give that to grouchy Rabbit.

We Make Plans--God Laughs.

A beautiful Jewish woman once said: "We make plans--God laughs."

 Take my bookshelves for example.

They reminded me this week that "many are the plans of a [wo]man's heart, but it's the Lord's purpose that prevails" (Proverbs 19:21).

I'm no longer teaching full-time, and am in the process of moving all my materials, books and supplies into my tiny home office. My husband built beautiful shelves on my office wall. Still not room enough

Some inexpensive, short book cases caught my eye at Wal-mart, and I thought it was rather clever of me to buy two of them for stacking on top of one another.

God didn't give me an engineer's or carpenter's mind. I have two things working against me in the logic department: I'm blond and a soprano. (No offense to the smarter blonds and sopranos out there.) It never occurred to me that the little shelves wouldn't sustain the weight of another little shelf on top, burdened with more books than the library at Alexandria.

I was rather pleased with myself as I placed the last book on the top shelves when CRASH, the shelf on the bottom completely collapsed.

My plans seemed reasonable at the time. Now, they were clearly bad ones. I wonder--did God laugh? If I were Him, I would have.

It's been like this for me as I prepare for ACFW Conference. I had X number of days to get X number of pages polished and other preparations done. I was on a roll. I was going to be ready like no one else. I was a writing machine. (Click here to read how obsessed I am about conference: "Excited as a Puppy with Two Tails.")

Then, a friend of mine got sick. And that's when I had to accept an important truth: people are more important than my writing plans and goals and dreams.

I thought I had turned my goals and dreams over to the Lord long ago. But these interruptions taught me a valuable lesson. They taught me that God's plans and purposes will indeed prevail, whether I think so or not. He has a plan for my work in progress, and He knows the exact time when it is to be published or whether or not it will be. Because this journey isn't about me and my dreams. It's about the message He wants to give through me.

There have been other kinks in my journey toward ACFW Conference and my dream of meeting the agent and editor who will love my platform and my ministry. But I think God is sending these little detours to test my ability to roll with His plans. I won't be able to give anyone credit but Him, should any success be mine.

It's all bigger than me, anyway. But it's not bigger than God. He is bigger than any expectation I may have. And He can handle it. If I truly believe He's in control, and do my part to be a workman that needeth not be ashamed, then there will be peace.

And I, with God, will laugh.

The Time Jack Had No Story

Did I ever tell ye about the time Jack went huntin' in the hills 'round his place and got caught out in a frightful storm? He couldn't see the trees in front of his face. He looked high and low for a shelter place. Finally, he come upon a little ol' cabin.

When he knocked on the door, a tall man opened it. Says, "Why, Jack, come on in. We'uns is a-havin' a frolic. Got beans with striped meat and cornbread what'll be done direc'ly. We're takin' turns entertainin'. Ye play the fiddle?"

"Naw, sir. Cain't play no fiddle."

"Dance a jig?"

"Cain't dance, neither."

"Well, tell a story, then, Jack."

"Ain't got no story."

The tall man shook his head sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, Jack, but you'uns need to go out and get yourself a story afore your worth your beans."

To make a long tale short, Jack went down by the creek, where he got plucked up by a whirlwind and blown away to a place that was nothing but trouble and heartache. First one thing happened and then another, till at last the boy 'bout got stuffed into a coffin he had built and dropped into a six-foot-deep grave hole he had dug. Have mercy! If it hadn't been for that whirlwind that happened back by in time to whisk the lad out of that precarious situation--well, let's not even think about what could o' been.

Anyhow, that big blow dropped him smack-dab in the same spot, beside the creek that ran before the cabin. He stood up, brushed hisself off, and went up to the door. The tall man opened it again.

"Jack, ye got a story for us?"

Jack pert nigh split his face with a grin. "Have I got a story for you'uns!"

* * *

Hard times. We've all had our share. They're not pleasant. Many of my writing colleagues are facing challenges right now. One man is in a job that has become a burden. Because he works on commission and the economy is lean, he is barely able to sustain a household. Some in my critique group are dealing with health issues, either their own or those of a close family member or friend. Others have lost someone whom they cherish. Then there are the moms and dads who balance careers and families while trying to squeeze out of each day a few minutes to write.

The story I opened with is from a cycle called "The Jack Tales." They're from the Appalachian oral tradition. In most of the stories, Jack and his mama are having hard times. You've heard about when things got so bad that Jack had to sell their last milk cow? As a storyteller, I often tell my audience, "Them hard times we go through give us strength. The Good Lord brings us to 'em and through 'em." Jack had to suffer some trials in order to get his story and be worth his beans.

Like you, like Jack, I've survived some of life's dark valleys: deaths in the family, money troubles, illness, even a divorce that caught me by surprise. For a Christian, those can be times of great spiritual growth because we have to lean so completely on Jesus, our Good Shepherd. 

We may think of our hard times as hindrances to our writing. Certainly, we may have to set aside the pen for awhile as we deal with the situation. The writer who journals as such times, however, may experience the cathartic effect of such exercise while developing a valuable resource for her writing. Having suffered herself, she can empathize with her suffering characters. Robert Frost said, "No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader."

So are you worth your beans? What has happened in your life that you can now apply--or have applied--to your writing? We'd love to read your comments.