THE IN-BETWEEN

There’s a strange and sacred space most of us don’t talk about much—the in-between. It’s not the exhilarating moment when the dream first blooms in our hearts, nor the triumphant moment of realization when we finally see it come to life. It’s not the glorious end of a battle fought and won, nor the crushing moment when everything falls apart.

The in-between is the desert. The dry, endless stretch where hope feels like a mirage and forward motion seems to happen in inches rather than miles. It’s the space between a contractual obligation ending and the next opportunity arriving. Between a long-awaited “yes” and the slew of obstacles that rise up to block the path to it. Between heartbreak and healing, when the wound is still raw, and you’re not sure you’ll ever feel whole again. I know this space well.

The in-between isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t make for flashy social media posts or riveting party chatter. Most of it happens in silence, in the quiet corners of our minds where doubt can whisper and fears grow loud. It’s the space where we keep showing up even when no one seems to notice. Where faith is tested, stretched, and strengthened.

For writers, this often looks like trudging through a manuscript with no promise of publication. It looks like revising a chapter for the tenth time, knowing it might get cut altogether. It looks like sending out queries without a single "yes" in sight. The journey of writing mirrors life in this way: we don’t get to skip the desert.

The Desert Seasons

Picture cracked earth beneath a relentless sun, the horizon shimmering with heat, an oasis a dusty dream. There’s loneliness to these stretches. A barrenness. However, it's in the desert that our roots grow deep, and we learn to depend on something greater than ourselves. Where faith isn’t just an idea—it’s a lifeline.

In life, these desert seasons might be the period between receiving terrible news and finding resolution. Maybe a loved one is sick, and you’re waiting for the test results. Maybe your marriage is in trouble, and you don’t know how to bridge the growing chasm between you. Maybe you’ve lost someone or something dear, and you’re navigating the messy middle of grief.

The scorching, sandstorm-ridden desert is where hope is refined; where trust is forged in fire.

I've discovered the desert seasons shape the story beneath the story. They deepen the layers of my characters, infusing them with the grit and grace that only comes from surviving the in-between.

Writing Through the Wilderness

The initial rush of an idea, the thrill of possibility and tangle of wild storylines percolating through my mind is intense and validating...until reality sets in. There's hard, plodding work involved: shaping scenes, weaving plotlines, unraveling snarled character motivations. During this in-between season of shaping, editing, plotting and plodding...it's possible for the inner critic to grow louder and louder until it seems to scream the impossibility of reaching any degree of success with the book! The temptation to give up is like a workman's bench clamp on my soul.

But I keep going. The ending comes, the pieces click into place, and the story develops its beating heart. Life is like that, too. The in-between can feel endless, but it’s not permanent. Seasons shift. Droughts break. The landscape changes. When I write about characters in crisis, I draw on the stories shaped by my own experiences of enduring dry, difficult seasons. Somehow, just as the beautiful, hard-fought, pain-studded life I've been given has made it through...the stories I write will make it through, as well.

The Gift of Resolution

There’s nothing quite like the sweetness of resolution after a long, grueling stretch of uncertainty. It’s stepping into shade after miles of blazing sun, or finding a cool, bubbling stream and scooping out handfuls of water. When resolution comes—whether in life or in a story—it's a reminder that the desert wasn’t wasted. The suffering shaped us in ways we couldn’t see at the time. The Shaking, my latest release, wrestles with faith stretched to its breaking point and hope that flickers but never quite dies.

Every page of The Shaking carries a trace of my own deserts and droughts...a reminder that while we can’t skip the in-between, we can survive it—and even find beauty there. The in-between, for all its difficulty, is where transformation happens. Where we step into a different dimension and our soul can sit us down on the front porch with a glass of cold, refreshing iced tea and whisper, "You did it! Congratulations! Now. Keep Going!"

Discover more about my latest release here!