To create a work of art, great or small, is work, hard work, and work requires discipline and order.

Walking on Water, by Madeleine L’Engle

I used to think writing was fun and easy. A nice pastime or hobby. I had a romanticized view of myself sitting in a coffee shop, peacefully tapping away at a keyboard while poetic thoughts flowed out of my fingers, the process as smooth as warm almond oil.

Then I tried to write. Regularly. Saying good things that were worth reading. And I discovered it’s much more interesting to pick at my fingernails in the coffee shop than to tap away at a keyboard. And that the process does not resemble the flowing of warm almond oil so much as the slow oozing of hardened, crystallized honey.

I tried to use some hardening honey yesterday. I opened the cap, turned the honey bear over, and squeezed. Nothing changed. I closed the cap and banged it on the counter, then repeated my previous process, thinking that would change things. The blob began slowly moving, then came out of the opening, one very small bead at a time. I’ve never worked so hard for such a small amount of sweetness. This resembles my writing experience.

I love how L’Engle talks about writing because she doesn’t romanticize it one bit. She talks about how difficult it is to continue writing, even (and especially) when you don’t feel like it. And instead of suggesting that writing is some sort of “me time” a mother takes in order to retreat from service, she speaks of her writing as a “serving of the work” that made her a better wife and mother.

I suppose, as with anything, there is a way to write selfishly. A way to write which does not serve the work or the reader, but serves only the writer. And yet, just because the writing might only serve the writer (perhaps in journaling), that does not mean it should not be written. But perhaps it should not all be shared.

L’Engle writes in a personal way that sometimes reads like a journal entry, but which I’m very glad she shared. Relatable, thought-provoking, and inspiring, her book Walking on Water makes me grateful for her approach to the work aspect of writing. If she hadn’t done the hard work of writing, I would not have the pleasure and benefit of reading.

And, as it follows, neither would you.