If you’re writing a full-length novel, you don’t need to bend over backward trying to be clever in the first line or two. Readers will understand that there’s a lot of story to tell, and they’ll give you some space to do that. Don’t rush the opening.

It’s deeply disturbing to think about how many people in the world are dying inside, screaming for someone, anyone, to care, reaching out again and again, sometimes to the hand that slaps them, because, all too often, without that hand they have nothing at all.

Organic writers are never directionless because we can always work on scenes that fulfill the promises we’ve made earlier in the story or go back and foreshadow the fulfillment of promises we think of as the story takes shape.

We want the benefits of intimacy without the risks of transparency. So our lives are always made up of games of hide-and-seek. We want to be found and yet we want to hide from the consequences of being found. Intimacy is the license that you give to someone else to hurt you the most.

God can handle all your needs, mend the heart that hurts and bleeds, give the lonely something true that changes lives and makes them new. Jesus heals the fractured soul, makes it breathe, makes it whole, gives us hope when hope is gone, breaks the darkness, offers dawn, to all who follow, all who dare – the door is open, love is there.

He said souls can be just as bloody and torn up as bodies can. He called it the other kind of violence.

There are many times when second thoughts become chains on your soul.

We want to pin a reason to it or else we get terrified anyone else might do the same thing. Including us.

Love isn’t supposed to be something that needs to be handled; it’s supposed to be the thing that helps you handle everything else.

Don’t try to be different or memorable with your storytelling voice – be authentic.