This is the last time you, readers, will hear from me until after Easter because I am giving up writing for Lent.
I know what you must be thinking: why give up writing for Lent? Isn’t writing the thing we have to force ourselves to do? Aren’t Catholics supposed to give up fun, pleasant, good (or, at least, amoral) things, the absence of which would be truly felt? Isn’t giving up things you never really cared for in the first place defeating the purpose of giving something up to begin with, like a little kid who chooses to give up homework or broccoli?
I realize that, for most Catholics, writing would be a terrible Lenten sacrifice. I am a writer and, even to me, the act is sometimes dreadful. It requires serious willpower just to get started. It does not relieve stress as much as it causes it. It is what I love to do. Yet, it can often be a burden.
I can only imagine this burden is all the stronger for one (the non-writer) who does not love it, who does it not from a necessity within himself - his nature, his calling - but from outside himself, imposed by some other authority, be it a teacher or a boss. For the non-writer (which most of us are even we do write emails or blog posts or work reports on a regular basis), giving up writing would almost certainly be a cop-out, a way of using Lent to get out of something he doesn’t want to do.
But not for me. I want to write. I love writing. It’s a burden and it hurts, but I still love it. Let that be a testament to that love. I write because I am a writer. And I am not only a writer but a writer who is used to writing every day. Writing is part of my routine. What I am writing about dwells in my thoughts on a daily basis.
It is important to me, so what better to do than strip it away for this season of penance, to replace that time with more prayer and service? I seem to think giving it up would be good for me and quite possibly good for others.
Come Easter, writing will be waiting for me just as I left it, though perhaps, in my eyes, reinvigorated with a clearer vision, reunited with its fundamental purpose that was never really gone but merely obscured by the particular struggles of day-to-day practice. Thus, giving up writing could be good for my writing too.
I have prayed about it, and this is what I think: I should give it up. I don’t want to, but I should. That’s kind of the point.
So, though I will be gone, know I will be back, hopefully wiser, hopefully stronger, hopefully humbled and renewed.
Until then,
L.W.
L.W. Blakely is a writer in Birmingham, Alabama. He is the author of The Wayfarer, a newsletter where he publishes literary fiction, criticism, and musings. Learn more about L.W. and The Wayfarer on the About page, or (if you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read) consider subscribing and sharing his work.