Limits: A writer’s friend or foe?

I’m reading a book that, in the middle of chapter two, I had to put down. (It’s that necessary for my life at this moment in time.)

Do you ever do that?

I read books sometimes that are so close to where I’m living metaphorically that I read just a little bit, and it’s time to stop and think.

This book is like that: Ashley Hales’ A Spacious Life: Trading Hassle and Hurry for the Goodness of Limits.

Why is it that I’ve never considered my own limitations as a gift?

That’s the premise of the book (so far), and it’s really causing me to reflect on whole new ways of being in all areas of life — including my writing life.

A fellow writer said something the other day that seems to illustrate Ashley Hales’ book so well; she said that we aren’t in a race to finish our writing works. It’s not about who gets their book published first or who gets a book contract before me. It is not about why they have a writing routine that works for them and I’m still finding my rhythm.

We are not in a race.

We are in a process of growing, changing, learning through limitations and disciplines, and refinement seasons. But we are most certainly NOT in a race.

Yes, discipline and routines are good, but they are. not. our. lives.

Disciplines and routines should help me with the living of my real life, not detract from it. That’s something I’ve learned again and again this year. You know, the post-pandemic-year-that-keeps-on-keepin-on?

In looking at where I’ve been the last two and a half years, our family has endured much. Like many, we have undergone two job changes, two school transitions, homeschool and at-school, a move, and oh yeah, COVID has caused a great deal of suffering for those we know and love.

So it’s easy to look at life and see limits. “I can’t write this because…” Or “I wish I would have used that quarantine time better and started a podcast like…”

But these “I wish” and “I can’t” statements are the antithesis of embracing my own limitations. The reality is that I am limited. The real truth of it is that we are all limited in what we can produce, what we can grieve, what we can delight in, and what we can endure.

Our writing lives cannot live separately from our whole lives; in fact, they should be intertwined. It’s when we do our best writing.

Wait, what did she say?

Yes, when our writing life is wrapped into our whole messy, limitation-scar-bearing life, we tend to come out with articles, books, and work that is better.

I’m turning a corner on seeing my own limitations — time, health, commitments — as honest-to-God gifts when it comes to writing. In this week alone, I’ve had two freelance projects, a part-time job, a family vacation, and two kids to homeschool.

To say I’ve felt my limitations this week is a massive understatement.

But you know what I didn’t do?

I didn’t berate myself with an inner monologue about how I got very little writing done on my novel. Instead, I cheered myself with a glass of wine for getting a finished outline where I can now envision how my novel will end.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am nowhere near finished with it. In fact, I have a feeling that “finished” may be a long journey with editing, beta readers, revisions, pitches, etc. Pretty sure I should kick up my feet and stay awhile.

That’s why it is essential that I embrace my limitations in life and in writing.

We can only write from where we are today; we cannot write from where we will be tomorrow.

Choosing to write not in spite of my limitations, but because of them? It has given my creative life a boost, my emotional meter an extra dose of calm, and my physical margin, well, it’s stayed the same. (There are still only 24 hours in a day, it turns out, and some of those you need for sleeping.)

But I can see that my desire to write — limitations and all — has taken on new meaning. A knowing-what-my-purpose-is, however-long-it-takes kind of meaning.

This is not to say that your limitations in life — my limitations in life — won’t be frustrating, heartbreaking, and altogether hard to make sense of. But it is to ask the question:

What if I saw the journey ahead as a chance to explore the trail, not knowing where a rock or root may pop up? What if I saw the limitations I face today as an opportunity to be thankful that I’m continually growing and changing in the midst of hard things?

Today, I hiked with my 13-year-old son.

Why am I telling you this in an article about limitations?

Well, I woke up with incredible allergies, which triggers breathing issues because I have asthma. But we are on vacation, there’s a blue sky, and we both love a good hike.

So I decided to head out anyway.

Did I go as fast as I normally do? Did I hike the “difficult” path that’s steep and long?

No.

But I embraced the limitation I had and kept on doing what I am called to do — spend time with my son.

In our writing lives, let’s do it differently than we’ve been doing.

Let’s stop comparing our successes (or lack of) to other writers’ successes.

Let’s stop assuming we are THE WORST because we didn’t write a Stephen King bestseller last year.

Let’s embrace our limitations.

Instead of ignoring the naysayers and people who discourage us, let’s ask how we can point them to something that they can get behind. Instead of becoming discouraged by the lack of social media likes and followers, let’s ask the small group of people who support us what we have to offer that they really enjoy. Instead of saying, “I don’t have time to write,” let’s look at our limited calendar each week and pinpoint just one opportunity for writing.

It may only be 20 minutes one day a week right now.

Can we agree that it’s a win if we are living our whole lives, accepting our limitations, and doing what we’re called to do in the midst of them?