“You’re not a proper writer.”
I wrote this originally for other writers as an encouragement and perhaps a warning, but it’s not just for writers. I believe that if you are Child of the King, this is something you will face in any creative career you have or any path to your purpose. It is something I believe is foundational. At the least, it’s part of my story of being a writer, so if you’re just here because you’re curious about my journey or the writing life, then read on. I know it’s a rather long-winded, slightly messy tale that encompasses many years of my life, but that’s life sometimes, isn’t it – not a straight path to anywhere.
Long ago, I was in the house of a couple I had only just met. I don’t entirely remember why I was there, or exactly who I was with, but I recall it was some sort of social event with some colleagues at a time when I was working for an Asia-Pacific Christian charity. I had flown down to Melbourne, which is in the state of Victoria in Australia, from my home state in New South Wales to stay for a week and attend meetings. And somehow we ended up at this couple’s house.
The husband was a man with a thinning brow, round spectacles and a slight paunch beneath a button-up blue shirt. The wife was a fine-boned woman with an A-line skirt, and a white apron – a woman reminiscent of the 50s home-makers. She had flowed around the room earlier, eyes alive with pride as a group of us admired the nostalgic items she had spent years collecting; items that were crammed into every space, even running along every chair rail in a surprisingly artful way.
In the corner of the loungeroom, nestled in amongst the fascinating knick-knacks and antiques was an old piano. At one point we all started to move outside for lunch. As the room began to empty, I stared at the huddling old instrument and found myself asking out loud, “Who plays piano?”
“I do,” answered the husband. Whatever he was doing, he must have paused in it, for I have a memory of him pulling up mid-stride, on his way out of the room towards the patio where most of the group had now gathered. He was clearly waiting for another question of some kind, or perhaps an explanation for the first one.
“I play piano as well,” I found myself saying.
His whole countenance changed then; it is the clearest memory I have of the day. He actually stiffened, and his blue eyes behind his round spectacles turned quite sharp. He asked with all the cold distance of an interviewer looking at an unsuitable job applicant: “Do you read music?”
I think I hesitated. “Not very well.”
It was true. I could play just about any song you might want to sing along to through a combination of reading guitar chords, reading the tune and my musical ear. It was a way I had taught myself to play after years and years of lessons using the inefficient classical and exam system failed me. I could play well enough to become the church pianist, and to receive a lot of enthusiasm whenever it was my turn on the roster to play, but put a piece in front of me that could only be played note for note, and you may as well have put scribbles there.
The man’s face clearly reflected his contempt as he replied, “So you’re not a proper pianist then.” At that he whirled on his feet and strode away, his back a clear message. He left me standing there, in the centre of the room, my eyes passing from his blue-shirted, retreating shoulders to the old piano, and back again. I felt kind of poised in the middle of both of them, no longer quite sure of who I was or how to respond. It was as if I had just lost the right to be associated with either of them.
That was the first day I became aware of “the script” and recognised that I had heard it before. When I was in high school, my sisters both specialised in maths and science. I excelled at history and English. I was apparently “not a proper” intellectual even though I took all higher level classes and sat at the top of each one, including first in the year in English. When brains were mentioned, and potential for success, it was always my two sisters.
After high school, I went for a scholarship with a particular university and it came down to me and one other person out of hundreds of applicants until I was asked, “Why didn’t I do proper subjects at school like economics instead of doing two history subjects?” I know the question knocked the wind out of my sails, hitting me hard for no reason I could understand at the time. I did not recognise it was the way it was worded. I floundered. I gave a very poor answer. I knew then I wasn’t getting the scholarship.
During and after university when I told people I was doing or had done a Bachelor of Arts English Literature, the response was that it “wasn’t really a proper degree was it”.
The script was subtle, of course, and nothing I had noticed as a repeating ‘thing’, until that day with the piano. That day it was delivered totally unhidden and with such frosty malice, it stopped me in my tracks. And I became vulnerable to that idea. It began to burrow in. It became the repeated phrase that the enemy used over and over again in every area of life. And each time he did, the concept burrowed deeper within me, like worms eating their way through something that was starting to rot in my core.
For years I worked as a writer and journalist for charities, offering my time instead of money.
“Are you getting paid? No? So you’re not properly employed then.”
After years of trying for children, I had only one child. A miracle.
“How many children do you have? Just the one? So you’re not a proper mother then.” (Yes, people said that.)
And of course, I wrote for years and years and wasn’t published:
“So you’re not a proper writer then.”
A small press eventually published me:
“So it’s not a proper publisher then.”
People would question sales figures, like it validated whether the book was any good:
“Is the book doing well? No? So you’re not a proper author then.”
Later when I started a small press:
“It’s your company? So it’s not a proper small press then and the books aren’t properly published.”
Oh, the list went on …
“You’re not going to a church? You’re not a proper Christian.”
“Your books have adult content? They’re not proper Christian novels.”
“They have a Christian world view? Your books aren’t proper fantasy books then.”
“You self-published these? Your books aren’t proper books for us to stock in a bookshop.”
“You don’t always charge your students to learn to write and edit? So you’re not a proper tutor then.”
“You’re quitting writing and staying home to homeschool your son? That’s not a proper education though, is it. And you’re not a proper teacher.”
“Is your book in bookshops? So you’re not a proper author then.”
“Have you read Harry Potter? No? You can’t call yourself a proper fantasy author then.”
“You write fantasy novels? You’re not a proper Christian then. Fantasy is evil.”
“Your books weren’t published by one of the big, main publishers? They’re not proper entries into our fantasy awards competition then.”
“You quit writing after twenty years? You’re not a proper writer then. All the other proper writers I know couldn’t quit even if they tried.”
Not a proper … Not a proper …
It sounds like I might be exaggerating, but I am not. It was a script that played over and over and over. And I convinced myself that I didn’t let it in. But I’m here to confess: I did.
When I finally received a publishing contract with “just a” small press in Australia, the first thing I did was pay a marketing company to do a virtual book tour. As part of that book tour, they go around leaving positive reviews and recommendations of my book on book blogs, trying to imitate the idea of word-of-mouth. It was all a lie. A trick. They didn’t even read the book. They worked on notes and questionnaires I had to send them. But I wanted to feel more legitimate than I did. I wanted people to think these books were legitimate enough to give a go. Once they did, I knew they’d like them. I just had to get past the illegitimacy.
I look back now and realise that it was the beginning of the end. I believe I gave in to the lies the moment I hired that company. And I let the illegitimacy lie sink into me so deeply, I would try to navigate all conversations so that nothing ever came up that might get me labelled as “not a proper”. That meant pretending to be something I wasn’t, not so much through outright lies but through what I didn’t say and what I wouldn’t admit. In everything, I tried to make myself seem better than I was. But it didn’t matter what I presented or what I left off. I was never “a proper” anything anyway.
It was all a battleground. It was games and it was blood, sweat and tears just to get people past their prejudices to even give me a go or to see me for me. And it eventually led to emotional trauma, anxiety attacks, and severe depression that caused me to have to quit writing altogether.
For years I hid the existence of the novels like a shameful secret. They were no longer markers of my achievement; they were symbols of my failure. No matter what else I did, I could not yet call myself a proper writer. I was just a wanna-be with a hope and a dream.
After long years of being “just a mum”, (“not a proper mum” of course), and homeschooling my son (“not a proper education”), I decided to throw my books (“not proper books”) back online (“not proper publication”). I defied the system and put them on for free or a pay what you want. I refused to play the game again. No reviews. No third parties. No copyrights. No advertising. It was supposed to be my fresh start. I was supposed to be free of the system and thus free of the way it might affect me. That was two years ago and this exact website. And so for two years now I have believed myself to have risen above the system that almost destroyed me. But do you know what I have just realised? I still felt illegitimate. Ultimately, I am still hiding.
It has come about that I am revisiting the idea of putting the books on Amazon so people can easily download them as ebooks. (Update: The books are now out including paperbacks.) My sister, who helps with the covers and internals of all my books, is beginning to prepare them for the Amazon system. I was growing comfortable with the idea. Then just a week ago, I stumbled across an old listing of one of my books on Amazon. I was not prepared for the almost violently nauseous reaction: the shock, the trauma, the horror I felt at the idea of my book and the reviews still being visible there (though unavailable). When I thought of going back into the market, I had a strong reaction against it. I did NOT want my books on Amazon. I did NOT want to open myself up to reviews. I did NOT want to have to explain to people I was “only” self-published thus not a “proper” writer. I did not belong there. I did not fit. I did not want to have to fight for breathing space or the right to exist or to have my books available for readers. I did not want readers in the mainstream market telling me I wasn’t “a proper” writer because I had scammed them into reading a book with a strong Christian world view. And I didn’t want Christian writers telling me I wasn’t “a proper” Christian because my book had darker and adult themes and “unchristian” things.
I was still living as if I had no right to sell or give away my books, no right to give advice to budding writers, and no right to bring out my books in any market or in any form because I had never been “properly” validated and because I did not belong. I was not “proper”. And eventually someone would say it.
Troubled by my strong, and I mean STRONG, reaction to seeing the listing, I took the issue to Jesus and asked the hard question: “What belief or what lie or perhaps what truth lay beneath such a visceral reaction?” And I saw it then: the truth of the “not proper” that had invaded my spirit so deeply, I did not realise that it was the lie upon which I had built all my actions and hence reactions since.
Do you know what I have now started to realise?
If it was true, if I actually wasn’t “a proper” anything, Satan wouldn’t have to try so hard to tell me that. He could just let me potter along knowing I wasn’t going anywhere that would bother him. I wouldn’t ever be a threat. But he has been trying to knock me down and out since he first decided to hurl “not a proper pianist” at me.
Let’s be clear about this: if you’re a Child of the King, and if what you are doing is going to have an impact on the kingdom of darkness, Satan’s going to come at you through your weakest point. And if you don’t yet have one he can exploit, he’ll create one. You’re going to hear a script. You’re going to start to notice it appearing everywhere. Your script will possibly be different to mine, or it might be just like mine. You’re going to be told something like, “You’re not a proper writer.” Or “You’re no good at what you do.” Or the classic: “No one is going to like what you do.” And even, “You’ll never make it” – which is another script that was tossed at me many times. If you hear something like that over and over again, it means that either you are a proper writer or you’re training to be one, and one day you’re going to become a threat to the kingdom of darkness that is a force to be reckoned with.
Satan’s going to use the world’s standards and expectations as a weapon against you. He’s going to make it feel so very, very important to you to have the world’s approval: Validation from publishers. Validation from good reviews. Validation from social media followers. Validation from sales figures. Validation from friends and family…
It doesn’t even have to be all negative. He can get you through any kind of self-esteem you build on the wrong foundation, such as through a plethora of good reviews that make you believe in your own abilities to the point where you forget that the point of the party is God.
Satan has so many cards he can play in this day and age. And so many ways he can get a hurtful or destructive message to you. But it comes down to this: If you are following the Holy Spirit, and you wrote your books in partnership with God himself, then the books aren’t yours. And the books aren’t about you. And the books aren’t even for you. They are for the glory of God and his kingdom. And like everything in life that he gives you, they are his to do with as he pleases.
I forgot that. I forgot how intimately I listened to God when it came to the books, and the supernatural way he downloaded some of them to me. I forgot that it was different, totally different to writing them on my own, than when I joined with God and he took over and turned them into something he intended to use for his glory. I forgot how the books became something I never intended but were far better than I imagined. I didn’t see the insidious way that Satan made me doubt and feel ashamed of the Christian worldview in them that God put in there; the insidious way the enemy made me believe they were just a way I would eventually be scorned and ridiculed so I should hide them and hope no one ever read them. They became my books: my struggling reputation, my illegitimate career, my exposing reviews, my lack of success, my meagre followers.
If you have been given a gift to write, and given the books themselves, then there is a supernatural power behind those books that is not you and will be used despite you. And if it wasn’t true, Satan wouldn’t be working so hard to have all the “right” people say the same destructive thing to you over and over again.
Those books are God’s. The only way Satan can bring them down is to make you forget that and to make you feel like you are the one who has to defend them, promote them, find a home for them, and make them legitimate in the world’s eyes.
It doesn’t mean the books are going to be a smashing success the way the world sees a smashing success. But it does mean there is something about them that the kingdom of darkness is very, very afraid of.
If that is you, be encouraged. You are the most legitimate writer of all, because you have the approval, authority, and supernatural backing of The King of Kings. What higher stamp of approval and legitimacy is there than that?
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About the Author: Lisa Saul
