The Truth About Writing
Behind the Scenes with Authors: Sharon S. Hines
There’s a scene in Shrek (the original movie) where Shrek and Donkey are walking through a garden. Illustrating a point he’s making, Shrek tells Donkey “ogres are like onions … they have layers.” The underlying message here is that all stories have layers. For example, in scripture, the layers are things like history, metaphor, prophecy, and personal application.
[Editor’s note: This essay is an excerpt from The Spiritual Life Writing Workbook: From Concept to Bookshelf by Susan Scott, with Lana Cullis and Sharon S. Hines. Chapter 7 features behind-the-scenes commentary by diverse spiritual life writers.]
When I first tried my hand at non-technical writing, in 2009, I was only beginning to get good at reading layers created by others. I had no clue about how to create layers, or how important they are to the field of writing.
I wrote the first version of the essay below in 2021. At that point, I had been struggling to write on my own, with only a pile of books and blog posts on writing as companions. As an introvert, I preferred this scenario to venturing out in search of new friends.
My first manuscript, written in 2009, sat languishing on a shelf. The comments from early readers had been disappointing. “Thank you for your service,” from a faith-based teacher with writing credentials. “I just couldn’t get into it,” from a librarian friend who had offered to proofread it.
I didn’t know what I didn’t know. And I had been looking in all the wrong places.
I came back to this essay in 2024, looking for something to include here in this chapter. The message of the piece was still valid, but I had grown as a writer in the meantime. I now saw ways to improve, to expand, to clarify. I have put my additions in italics, as a case study in the value of letting a piece rest for a bit.
The First Two Layers
The generators of the workers laying fiber optic cable on my street jump to life and wake me up. As always, my first thought of the day is What day is it? Answer: Thursday, December 16, 2021. Date established, lack of morning commitments verified, I begin mentally reviewing where I’m at and what I’m learning. Not wanting to interrupt my train of thought, I pick up my iPhone 12, open the Notes app, and type.
After setting the writerly dream aside for a dozen years, I’ve started a new manuscript.
Last night, I took two sentences of just-the-facts-ma’am draft and turned them into two pages of creative nonfiction. Stories aren’t just unpacked in layers. They are also first created in layers.
Those who come to writing later in life with minimal formal training in how it’s really done are lured into beginning the process by thinking it’s a one-and-done task. I blame it on the media.
Mrs. Murder-She-Wrote sits at her typewriter, and finished prose emerges. Andy Farmer’s (Chevy Chase’s) biggest problem is finding a topic. The screenwriter of Truth Is Stranger proclaims all that’s required beyond a little inspiration is butt-in-chair time to produce genius or change a life.
A dozen years ago (2009), as far as this new-to-writing applied mathematician knew, based on most writers depicted in TV shows and movies, just writing it down is all that’s required. And, after all, that’s all she ever had to do to produce amazing praiseworthy technical project reports. Clear and concise. Bull’s-eye.
The truth is creative nonfiction requires a lot more steps beyond sitting down and recording what happened. A whole lot more steps.
It’s Counterproductive to Know Your Future
To see the agony of the real process unfold, watch Jane the Virgin. All five seasons. And remember, as you watch Jane slog through the book-writing process — multiple times — she had teachers, mentors, and peer reviewers throughout the ordeal. Do you? (I sure as heck did not my first time out.)
Now that I’m here, I hesitate to reveal this secret lest it deter you from even beginning. God must have known it would deter me when They first asked me to write a book. Maybe.
In that first, just-written-down-style manuscript, in 2009, I wrote that it’s counterproductive to know your future. Knowing your future (in too much detail, at least) impinges on your free will, causes you to choose differently. For some of us, knowing about this writing reality, about just how much is actually required, might be a good example of knowing too much about our future.
It’s an age-old question, really. If you know in advance how difficult the journey will be, will you even begin? If you know a marriage is going to end in divorce, will you take those vows? A relative of mine loves to evaluate difficult choices by taking them to the limit. In this case: if you know you’re going to die someday, should you just kill yourself now?
That got dark really fast. Sorry.
But you get the point, I hope. Becoming a writer is hard work. The journey is long, and the intended destination may never be reached. Writing is more than sitting down, typing the title and your name, letting it all pour out in ready-to-publish condition, and being finished the moment you arrive at THE END.
In my faith tradition, we like to say, “if you have the desire, you are called to the work.” Just do yourself a favor and, like Jane, find someone, at least one someone, who can hold your hand and show you the way.
This time around, I have such a someone. Multiple someones. And it’s making all the difference.
The Third Layer
And that’s where I ended it. Version Two, ready for print. Then Susan [Scott] invited me to say more. “Just go ahead and take up space,” she said. That, for a clear-and-concise type, can be a challenge.
Still, it was an opportunity to say what had happened in the intervening years and where I am now. A chance to add yet another layer to the story. And a chance to allay some fears about the social aspects, especially if you’re an introvert like me.
If the first layer is “just the facts,” and the second layer is writerly style, the third layer, as I alluded to above, is community.
This time around, I have such a someone. Multiple someones. And it’s making all the difference.
Case in point, my first published book, Listening for Guidance. Well, technically, as of the moment I’m writing this, it’s still in the draft phase. But really close to the point where I can upload it to Amazon. I fully expect it to be for sale by the time you read this.
It’s really a story of the importance of community.
Oddly enough, my first [solo] published book began as an after-thought. Here’s how it happened.
Things Just Sort-of Evolved
I began working on my first spiritual memoir the night before those workers began laying fiber optic cable. Finally, in the spring of 2024, I was really, really close to publishing. Working title: Well Guided: My Life as a Student at the International Academy of God. But yet not quite ready, mentally. And, I was in need of broader feedback.
“Why not publish on Substack first?” I thought. That was becoming a popular new option. I got busy researching how to get started. Soon I had a shiny new Substack blog I named “Spiritual Life Storyteller.”
My plan was to re-publish some pieces I had published to medium.com a few years back. But first, in the interest of full disclosure to my general-audience Substack readers, I wrote about my primary spiritual practice: Listening for Guidance. It’s not a super common thing. I didn’t want to blindside my readers with divine messages of guidance later on without having given prior warning and explanation.
And, well, I guess the Spirit took over. Instead of re-publishing the old stuff, I found myself writing more about Listening for Guidance. Week by week, I found myself answering questions (FAQs, if you will) about my practice.
Eventually, having promised the memoir (Well Guided) to readers, I turned away from Listening for Guidance as a topic on Substack. But a few months later, I revised those posts and transformed them into a publishable mini book.
What I haven’t told you, dear reader, is what happened behind the scenes, starting from fiber-optic-installation day. It’s a story of community.
The (Accidental) Mastermind Group
I had met Susan in 2019. She was helping me with my memoir. And she had been offering a monthly Zoom series on the topic of Spiritual Life Writing. Over time, I became part of the inner circle.
In 2023, as that series approached a natural close, five of us in the inner circle created a mastermind group: Susan, Lana, me, Vicki MacArthur (a contributor to this chapter), and Kathy Nutt (our workbook cover artist). A new community was born (and continues).
The mastermind group became a valuable sounding board for my writing. And also for the website I was designing (sharonhines.com).
And then there was Substack. What an interesting evolution that was.
I first became aware of Substack about a year before I signed up. Important authors were publishing there. People like
, whose books had been on my shelf for years. In my mind, Substack was an exclusive venue for serious authors. Not for little me.Over the course of the next year, more of my larger-than-life heroes began popping up on Substack.
on marketing. on writing.It was intimidating, but also alluring. Back in the 1980s, my career bible had been The Woman’s Dress for Success Book. My motto had become “dress for the job you want, not the job you have.” Now I applied that motto to writing. “Publish like the writer you want to be, not the writer you are.” I signed up for Substack.
The promise of Substack is that you will no longer be publishing on the lonely island of your individual website. You will be publishing alongside other authors. You will find community. And, yes, I did that. On Substack, I have readers who give feedback, fellow authors who share tips on writing and marketing, a growing email list of fans, a community. It’s awesome!
The Whole Truth
So, here’s the full truth about writing. It happens in layers. It grows organically. It’s a process. It’s a journey. It’s a school. It’s better, faster, and more enjoyable to travel with companions. It’s hard work, but worth it. It’s fun! Settle in for the ride.