It’s Not About the Books

Some of you may have noticed something about me.

I’m a writer — but I don’t really write about writing.

I don’t talk much about craft, process, or literary technique. And that’s not because I don’t care about those things. I do. Writing is both a tool and an art, and I want to grow in it for as long as I’m able.

But for me, it has never really been about the books.

I write because story is profoundly human.

Before we analyze, we feel. Story is an art full of feeling.

Story reaches places that instruction alone often can’t.

That’s why I keep coming back to it — especially when it comes to faith, suffering, identity, and truth.

I want to be open with you. My books aren’t perfect.

They’re not academic. They’re not finely crafted literature. They’re not something I would ever hold up as the example of how the craft of writing should be done.

But they are useful.

And they consistently do what they are meant to do:

• they open doors

• they start conversations

• they give women and teens language for things that matter

And along this journey of growing as a writer, I’ve learned something.

I’ve learned that seeking perfection in our work can quietly delay obedience.

Not because we don’t care. Not because we’re lazy.

But because we tell ourselves things like:

• I need to be more prepared.

• I need to know more.

• I need to fix myself first.

• I’ll do it when I’m ready.

Sometimes those things sound wise, but underneath them is fear.

Fear of being seen.

Fear of being judged. Fear of doing it wrong.

This isn’t just about writing.

I see this same struggle in so many women.

Women who feel called to speak but stay quiet. Women who feel prompted to reach out but wait. Women who sense God asking something of them but hold back because they don’t feel good enough yet. 

Mothers.

Grandmothers.

Teachers.

Foster moms.

Stepmothers.

Spiritual mothers.

Women who care deeply, who love fiercely, and who often underestimate the influence they already have.

This isn’t about not caring enough. It’s often about caring so much that we’re afraid to get it wrong.

Here’s what I’m learning. (Slowly and imperfectly, I might add.)

God doesn’t usually ask us for perfect, polished offerings.

He simply asks us to be available to the call. 

Obedience doesn’t mean having it all figured out. It means saying yes with what we have and trusting God to work with it.

HOMEWORK (Because Faith Is Lived)

Here’s our homework for this week.

At some quiet moment, consider asking yourself:

Is perfection keeping me from obedience in some area of my life?

This isn’t about judging yourself, just noticing.

Where might God be inviting you to take a small step, even if it feels unfinished, imperfect, or uncomfortable?

This email, this imperfect mission I’m on, isn’t about books. It isn’t about productivity. And it isn’t about getting it all perfect.

It’s about women like you and me. Women who are willing to say yes — right where they are.

I’m grateful you’re here. And I’m grateful we’re walking this together.

Love and prayers,

Verity