When I Finally Chose My Writing Again

I want to be an amazing fiction writer because I know I have a vivid imagination. That part was never the issue. What wavered was my belief that I was capable of writing a true page-turner again, something that surpasses my first novel, Taken for Granted.

That doubt cost me more than confidence.

It slowed me down.

It dulled my special touch, the careful weaving of words meant to captivate and stay with the reader.

For a season, I placed my own writing on the back burner while I coached other writers to bring their books to life. It felt practical. I was still “in the writing world.” But quietly, my own gift sat idle, pushed into the land of someday.

Last year, I woke up.

I realised I had been neglecting a God-given gift, and no amount of busyness could justify it anymore. I decided to give my writing craft the seriousness and reverence it deserves—not occasionally, not casually, but fully.

“Busyness can’t justify neglecting what God entrusted to you.”

I want to go deeper with my writing.

I want my words to carry meaning.

I want them to touch hearts that may have been dormant for a long time.

There is a particular grief that comes with recognising how long you abandoned yourself. I felt it sharply. I was angry with myself for doubting and sidelining this gift for years.

But reflection brings clarity.

I have now made a conscious decision: to devote seventy per cent of my creative energy to my writing craft and the remaining thirty per cent to coaching other writers. Not because coaching matters less, but because my own voice deserves room to breathe again.

Returning to my children’s manuscript, whose first draft I completed in 2022, felt like both an apology and a promise. An apology for the delay. A promise that I am no longer walking away.

Doubt still shows up.

So I wrote a letter to it.

I told Ms Doubt that while she may lurk, she no longer has permission to speak loudly in my head. I am done entertaining her shenanigans. I have no use for a voice that shrinks what God has expanded.

My pen is now my armour.

I am ready to pour words onto the page again, freely and boldly. I want to delight readers, quicken their hearts, and make them crave “just one more chapter.” I want to write stories filled with twists and turns that raise the pulse and linger long after the last page.

I plan to write across places and people—different locations, professions, settings, and elements of nature. Stories that entertain, yes, but also quietly awaken a longing to know their Lord more deeply and more lovingly.

This is not about productivity.

It is about obedience.

I choose to confront doubt and write anyway. I choose to remain the conqueror of every obstacle standing between me and the work I have been entrusted with.

So help me, God.

What gift have you been quietly postponing, and what would it look like to return to it now?