I’ve started a new project of ghostwriting a book for a pastor at a local church. I’ve met with him for several hours. He’s shared his story and how he came to the position he is now in. I have access to his sermon outlines and notes.
And then came the day to start writing. I stared at the screen, admiring the lovely shade of blue that surrounded the blank white page patiently anticipating my key strokes. I looked at my fingers as they hovered over the keys. I watched as they moved, not to the keyboard, but to the mouse, to email, to Facebook, to favorite blogs, to games. My feet soon joined in and we moved to the kitchen for another cup of tea, and a snack, a check of the grocery list to make sure it was current, a peek at the newspaper and a magazine.
Back to the computer. Yep, the screen was still blank. If anything, it looked more blank than a few minutes ago. The white more stark, the blue more faded.
My eyes wanted to know what was happening outside the window. Nothing. But the sun was shining and the new mulch in the flowerbed had a reddish glow.
A full-fledged procrastination attack invaded my writing room. Files needed to be organized. Re-runs of Wild, Wild West beckoned.
Under it all, a deep-throated voice rumbled. “Who do you think you are? You’re a novelist. What makes you think you can write non-fiction? Can’t you see you’re in way over your head?”
I’m used to hearing voices in my head as my characters talk to me all the time, but this was different. This was a voice I couldn’t shake, couldn’t silence. The procrastination settled over me, heavy and shrouded. Working on a fiction piece became a way to avoid the ghostwriting rather than part of my calling.
At my weekly writing group, I shared what I was experiencing. They called it for what it was, an attack of the enemy. And we prayed. And I remembered scripture. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. My God will supply all my needs through Christ Jesus. He will equip me with all I need to do his will.
The oppression and the self-doubts lifted. I dove back into listening to the notes and recordings of my interviews with the pastor. Ideas began to form. Enthusiasm grew. A vision of the opening came to life.
What do you do when the enemy attacks you, attacks your dream? When he says you will never fulfill God’s plan for your life so you might as well quit? When he says you will never finish the book (or whatever dream) God put on your heart? And, if you do finish it, you’ll never see it published?