A few Sundays ago, Minister Dorian stopped me as I was exiting the church to introduce me to her sister, who just happens to be an usher. Somehow, the conversation turned to how difficult it is for Minister Dorian to finish a book she’s writing. I encouraged her to just keep going if she only jotted down one word or one line. In my cheerleading, I let her know that the project I just finished took over 5 years. She was quite surprised.

Every writer, no matter how experienced, hits the same wall: doubt. The blank page feels heavier than it should. The words don’t come out right. The voice in your head starts whispering that maybe you’re not good enough, or that today just isn’t the day. This is the moment when most people stop. And this is exactly why you shouldn’t.

Writing isn’t powered by constant inspiration. It’s built on persistence. The writers you admire didn’t create their best work in a single, magical session—they kept going through awkward sentences, false starts, and drafts that never saw the light of day. Progress often looks messy up close, but it only becomes visible after you’ve moved forward.

When you keep going, something important happens: you give yourself permission to be imperfect. First drafts are supposed to be rough. They’re not proof of failure; they’re proof that you’re working. Every sentence you write—even the bad ones—is doing a job. It’s teaching you what doesn’t work so you can discover what does.

There will be days when writing feels effortless, and days when it feels impossible. The trick isn’t to wait for the easy days. The trick is to write anyway. Five minutes count. A single paragraph counts. Even opening the document and adding one sentence counts. Momentum is built from small, consistent acts, not dramatic bursts of productivity.

Continuing to persevere also builds trust in yourself. Each time you show up, you prove that you’re someone who finishes things, or at least tries. That trust matters. It quiets the fear that tells you to quit and replaces it with confidence earned through action.

So if you’re stuck right now, don’t worry about being brilliant. Don’t worry about being original. Just keep going. Write the line that feels wrong. Write the scene you’re unsure about. Write through the doubt.

You can’t edit anything. You can’t grow from silence. But if you keep going—word by word—you give your writing, and yourself, a chance to become something better than you imagined.

Thank you so much for your continued readership and support. Until next week…Blessings and Peace!

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