God called me to write novels. I know that, as sure as I know that the prediction for rain in two days is going to come true.
When, a few months ago, I realized that the strong desire to write novels was an actual heavenly call, I started listening to all sorts of podcasts about writing and marketing books. At first, it was exciting.
But lately, it’s become anything but. And I began resenting the call.
Why? An independently published author is “supposed to” write at least four novels a year – more is better. She’s supposed to pay several hundred dollars per book cover, plus shell out another several hundred for professional editing and proofreading. For just one book.
On top of that, she has to experiment with Amazon and Facebook ads (or take a $500 course on the subject) and spend hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars per month on advertising. Theoretically, she’ll eventually figure it out and make a profit.
She’s supposed to have a Facebook page. Network with other authors. Write what “everybody” is reading.
Oh, and let’s not forget: the smart authors dictate their stories.
All these “supposed to’s” and “shoulds” have been building up in me to the point that I wanted to scream the other day. Instead, I lamented silently to the Lord about His call on my life to be a novelist.
Because I don’t want to do all of that. I just want to write when I have a story on my heart, and use book promotion sites to get them in front of people’s eyeballs.
Know what the Lord said to me? He whispered, “Since when have I ever asked you to follow everybody else?”
So, when God calls you to engage in a certain task, it’s not necessarily in the way that the world would have you to do.
Whew. Thank You, Jesus.