Reclaiming your Writing Identity

There aren’t many times in my life when I’ve wished to live in the far distant past.

But when I think about what it means to live and breathe as an author in the age of the internet—algorithms, analytics, endless opinions—horses, buggies, ink, and quills don’t sound so terrible.

Can I get an amen?

Because if I’m not careful, I can tumble straight down the comparison rabbit hole.

I start admiring how often other authors post.
How polished their content feels.
How effortlessly they seem to “get” social media.
How clear and confident their Substack voices sound.

And before I know it, I’m wishing for more hours in the day, trying to reverse-engineer what’s working for everyone else, and quietly wondering if I’ve somehow missed the memo on how this is all supposed to work.

That’s usually when I stop paying attention to what God has actually called me to write—and who God has actually called me to be.

Instead, I fixate on what everyone else is doing that appears to be working.

And here’s the message God keeps whispering to me, over and over again:

You don’t need a new writing identity—you just need to reclaim the one I already gave you.

Well.
Shoot dang.

That one landed heavy.
And true.
And uncomfortably precise.

We’re less than a week into 2026, and if you’re anything like me, you might already be questioning yourself as an author.

You might feel the pull to jump on the bandwagon.
To embrace the latest trend.
To tweak your voice just enough to fit what seems to be rewarded right now.
To squeeze yourself into a box God never asked you to fit into.

So let me be the vessel for a gentler, truer voice today, my writerly friend:

You don’t need a new writing identity either.
You simply need to reclaim the one God already gave you.

This time of year does funny things to us.

We choose words.
We set goals.
We color-code calendars.
We convince ourselves this is the year everything finally clicks.

And honestly?
I want this to be our year too.

But I don’t want it to be the year we perform harder, hustle louder, or imitate someone else’s calling more convincingly.

I want it to be the year we write from the place where our souls sing.
Where our eyes light up.
Where our hearts beat a little faster.

And we can’t do that if we’re too busy watching what everyone else is doing instead of listening for what God is asking us to do.

I’m not entirely sure if I wrote this for you…or for me.

But I do know this: it’s a reminder many of us need as we stand at the beginning of a brand-new year, clutching our planners, drafting our SMART goals, and declaring 2026 the year.

My prayer for you this first full week of the year is simple.

That you would pause.
That you would reflect.
That you would take an honest look at the calling God has placed on your life—and embrace it fully.

Let 2026 be your year as an author.

Just make sure you’re walking toward the finish line with God leading the way.

A Moment for Reflection

• Where have I been tempted to trade my calling for someone else’s results?

• What kind of writing makes my soul feel awake—even if it doesn’t perform well online?

• If I stopped comparing for the next 30 days, what might God actually invite me to create?

You don’t have to answer these quickly.
Let them sit with you.

If this resonated with you, you’re exactly who Ink & Intention is for.

This space is for writers who want to create with purpose, clarity, and faithfulness—without losing themselves to comparison or hustle.

You’re welcome to stay awhile.

For more interaction, check out Ink & Intention over on Substack.

For coaching services, check out my website.