Patience in Writing

Writing is slow work.
It asks more of us than words on a page—it asks for time, trust, and patience.

When I first began writing seriously, I wanted everything to move quickly: drafts finished in a week, books published in a season, inspiration on demand. But the truth is, writing rarely works that way. Some days are full of flow, yes—but more often, it’s steady progress measured in paragraphs, in lines, even in single words.

Patience in writing is an act of faith.
It’s trusting that the story will reveal itself if we show up, again and again. It’s believing that revision will carve clarity out of roughness. It’s knowing that the waiting is not wasted—that the silence between words often teaches us as much as the words themselves.

I’ve learned that patience is where the craft deepens. The pause allows me to listen more closely, to let characters breathe, to let poems simmer until they find their true form. And perhaps most importantly, patience reminds me that writing is not just about producing—it’s about becoming.What I’m Working On

What I’m Working On

Patience is very much alive in my current projects. I’m editing The Taste of Crimson: Angyel, which is teaching me the value of slow, careful revision. My prairie-rooted poetry collection Raised by Wind continues to grow at its own rhythm, and my work on The Sacred Bruise asks me to hold space for vulnerability, letting the poems arrive when they’re ready.

A Prompt for You

Choose a project you’ve been rushing through. Today, instead of pressing forward, pause. Reread what you’ve written without judgment. Let it breathe. Write one sentence about what you notice in the stillness.