Back when I started blogging, it was a blatant attempt to build a platform for my real writing. I want (still want) to have my novel published, and having a great platform, name recognition, web presence, etc., helps publishers see that yes, I am capable of marketing my book. So I decided to start a blog and, for a while, stumbled around trying to find a focus for it.
I’ve noticed certain recurring themes in my writing. Brokenness. Devastation. The need for restoration and hope—in ourselves, our relationships, our world. It’s reality. Your reality–and mine as well.
The blog became a reflection of me: the broken, sometimes desperate, manages-to-mess-up-the-simplest-things-in-life me.
To a certain extent, I don’t mind being vulnerable in my stories and blogs. (In person, it’s a different story.) I’ve got more than enough broken pieces to pass around.
I try not to pretend I’ve got all the answers or even most of them. I share my struggles, not as a person who has finished fighting, but as one still fighting, but with hope of victory. I know that others can relate, and I hope that through my writing someone will find assurance that they aren’t alone.
To paraphrase C.S. Lewis, I want to be the beggar telling other beggars where to find bread.
But I’ve started to wonder if I’ve become self-absorbed in the process. Am I glorifying myself—bringing attention to my weaknesses, becoming absorbed in my struggles rather than helping others in their struggles, trying to be the source of hope rather than the one who points to the source of hope.
Am I pointing others to God or to myself?
It’s a Catch-22. I have to be able to market my book, and by extension, myself. I have to find my target audience and get in front of them. But I also have to restrain my natural tendency to yell “Hey, look at me!” rather than look at others’ needs.
Where self-obsession ends, service begins. –Rev. Jean F. Larroux, III
I don’t want to be absorbed in myself and forget my purpose in writing. It’s not about me.
It’s about pointing my readers to God … helping them think about him in a new way… holding out hope to them… reassuring them that they aren’t alone, that someone does care.
It’s not about me.
If I ever forget that, remind me, okay? Thanks.