When Thin Places released this year, I felt naked. And rightfully so. I shared my story stark on the page there, my heart displayed for all to see. The pain, the neglect, the sexual abuse, the divorces–all these damaged me and my heart. Hints of those injuries haunt me today still.
One thing that really surprised me was how hard this book was to read for those people who knew me well. Not just painful, but anguishing. I found myself in the place of consoling. I needed to comfort those who knew me, to reassure them that I’m okay. And, though I still bear scars of the past, by God’s grace I am really okay.
A close family member is reading the book right now. Her sweet, simple message of “I love you” reverberates through me. I sense she wants to console me, to embrace the little girl who hurt so long ago. It heartens me. But it also reiterates the risk of authenticity. Our hearts real on the page affect people. Sometimes positively. Sometimes negatively. Sometimes empathetically, to coin a new adverb.
Soon I’ll be journeying down the path of another memoir. And to be honest, this one scares the bejeebers out of me. When I wrote Thin Places, many of the issues in my heart and my consequent healing had been settled. But this memoir threatens to unlock doors I’ve kept firmly shut. I have unresolved issues that haven’t seen light. While this, too, will be a redemptive book, the topic is chilling and confusing. I’d appreciate your prayers. While I’m not at liberty to disclose what I’ll be writing about, I can assure you that it will be a difficult writing journey.
I will write this memoir on spec, meaning I don’t have a publisher for it. I’ll string words together in hopes that a publisher will find it compelling. I have what I need to begin, and as soon as I finish my spiritual warfare book for women, I’ll dive in. By God’s grace. By His help. By His strength.
What about you? What are you afraid to write? Why?