I recently attended a “book talk” where Barnes & Noble hosted a New York Times bestselling author in a major U.S. city to a sold-out audience. And one of my favorite parts of the evening was hearing the author discuss the origin story for her latest novel, the one we’d all receive a signed copy of later that night. She explained how she’d been hard at work, diligently writing from 9 a.m. until noon every day for a year, writing a different novel. She took a break from the novel to write an essay for The New Yorker, and this brief detour made her realize that the novel she’d been writing would never work. But it also gave her the idea for the next novel, the one I held in my hands in that packed event space.
I appreciated hearing how a major, successful writer did not view the novel-that-would-not-come-to-be as a failure, nor the year she spent on it wasted. It was necessary. Ideas that turn out not to be right are part of a writer’s life. “All of life is the writing life.” This claim is the central thesis of Charlotte Donlon’s book, “Spiritual Direction for Writers: Everyday Rituals for Your Writing Life” (Here Below Books, $24.99, September 2026). Donlon repeats that “all of life is the writing life” throughout her book and it is what came to mind as I listened to the story from the bestselling author. In the prefatory note for Donlon’s book, she stresses that “we are always being formed to do the writing we will do.” I have certainly come to believe the truth of this through my own experience.
Donlon’s book is full of reminders for writers, as well as recommendations and rituals as the subtitle suggests. As a spiritual director and writer herself, she offers readers a mix of practical exercises, real examples and encouragement. Some of the practical exercises include committing to writing for a certain length of time each day or creating a daily ritual, as well as learning to view time spent in lines, in carpools, and in waiting rooms as a gift of a few minutes for writing.
The real examples come from conversations Donlon has had with her spiritual directees, people who recognize that, oftentimes, the obstacles they face as writers are connected to the stumbling blocks in their spiritual life. Donlon’s voice is one of sincere encouragement as a fellow pilgrim (and professional writer) on the journey.
“Spiritual Direction for Writers” is organized in several sections: Begin, Belong, Become, Behold and Bestow. Each section begins with quotes from writers who have been companions and guides for Donlon, such as Toni Morrison, Pádraig Ó Tuama and Robert Henri.
The first section, “Begin,” addresses how difficult it can be to start and offers ideas for rituals that can help with this. Donlon wisely states that “if we wait for ideal circumstances to write, we’ll spend more time waiting than writing.” Later in the section, she says, “ignoring our writing practice can be a way of ignoring ourselves.” In this way, she points once again to the connection between the writing life and the spiritual life.
Donlon wisely states that “if we wait for ideal circumstances to write, we’ll spend more time waiting than writing.”
The section entitled “Belong” focuses on belonging to oneself, to God, to liturgical seasons, to literary communities, to traditions and more. She reiterates the importance of viewing time as a possibility, not a resource to manage. Donlon also invites readers to look to the liturgical year, which has seasons of feasting and fasting; our own writing lives and spiritual lives will likely be the same. There will be dry seasons and there will also be seasons where writing ideas are plentiful like food at a feast.
The ”Become” section starts with an example from St. Teresa of Avila which reinforces what I realized at the book talk earlier this summer: No one is immune to the ups and downs of life, be it the writing life or the spiritual life. Donlon explains that “When St. Teresa of Avila sent the second draft of ‘The Book of Her Life’ to her spiritual director, she reminded him that he promised to tear up the bad parts.” Following this, Donlon excerpts part of what St. Teresa wrote in her letter to her spiritual director, which is full of self-doubt and self-criticism. It would seem that even saints need what Donlon discusses, such as encouragement and the belonging that comes from literary community.
Some of the rituals Donlon recommends are familiar, such as the Ignatian examen, visio divina and lectio divina, and other contemplative practices. She writes, “Contemplation forms a lens. Through it, writers glimpse the interconnectedness of all things.” After describing the traditional examen prayed twice a day by Jesuits, she provides some questions that writers might use as an examen to check in on their writing practice every week, every month or every year. Some of the questions ask: “What have I received through my reading and writing? What have I offered others through my writing and creativity? How have I noticed a sense of belonging through my writing and beyond?”
It would seem that even saints need what Donlon discusses, such as encouragement and the belonging that comes from literary community.
I personally like this idea a lot and plan to incorporate it myself. Practicing an examen like this, especially multiple times at regular intervals like Donlon suggests, can help us to notice patterns and be more connected to both the writing life and spiritual life — and aware of how they are connected to each other. It helps us to see “cycles of rest and productivity, solitude and community — that shape both [one’s] art and [one’s] spirit.”
Donlon describes how the examen has become a regular part of her writing life. She maintains that it helps her “see the goodness of [her] creative life within a larger context.” The examen, she says, can “function as a deeper, more meaningful gratitude practice that tunes [the] soul to behold more goodness and view the divine as St. Angela of Foligno saw God — ‘All Good.’” Sometimes we can be critical of ourselves for not writing enough or for not working at a pace we expect of ourselves, but applying prayer practices like the examen can help us to offer gratitude and to notice how what we have received has borne fruit, even if in ways we didn’t expect.
Donlon also invites readers to look to the liturgical year, which has seasons of feasting and fasting; our own writing lives and spiritual lives will likely be the same. There will be dry seasons and there will also be seasons where writing ideas are plentiful like food at a feast.
When Donlon discusses the Ignatian examen alongside visio divina and other contemplative practices, she emphasizes how each of them helps the writer-artist to engage more awareness. The “Behold” section has one chapter about the body. She references the figure of “doubting Thomas,” one of the apostles, and says that “Just as Thomas needed physical contact with Jesus’ wounds to fully believe, writers often need embodied awareness to access deeper creative truths.” Ignatian prayer that incorporates composition of place can be similar. When we place ourselves in a scene from Scripture, we can access deeper truths, as Donlon says. We might come to see, for example, how truly close Christ comes to us when he uses his own saliva to make clay and heal blindness if we place ourselves in the blind man’s position. Donlon is suggesting that paying attention, especially through our bodily senses, can help us as writers to come to a deeper understanding that goes beyond intellect.
Sometimes we can be critical of ourselves for not writing enough or for not working at a pace we expect of ourselves, but applying prayer practices like the examen can help us to offer gratitude and to notice how what we have received has borne fruit, even if in ways we didn’t expect.
Similarly, in her chapter on beholding art, Donlon argues that beholding other works and forms of art can be fruitful both for the writing life and the spiritual life. Towards the beginning of the chapter, she explains that “studies have shown that regular interaction with different forms of visual art improves observational skills, critical thinking and emotional intelligence. She then explains that visio divina (sacred looking) is a modification of the ancient Christian practice of lectio divina (sacred reading). The end of the chapter guides readers through questions to ask oneself as a method of practicing this sacred looking with a work of art.
In the final section, “Bestow,” Donlon picks up this idea of offering something through our writing and creativity. Here she quotes from Lewis Hyde’s “The Gift,” where he claims,
Salmon, forest birds, poetry, symphonies […] the gift is not used up in use. To have painted a painting does not empty the vessel out of which the paintings come. On the contrary, it is the talent which is not in use that is lost or atrophies, and to bestow one of our creations is the surest way to invoke the next.
These are fitting words for the final section of a book that is not a how-to manual, and which does not promise more productivity. As Christians, we know our call is to use the gifts we have been given for the glory of God. At times, this is a heavy cross. At other times, the yoke is easy. At all times, we are called to continue on and begin again, which is what Donlon says at the conclusion of the book. To begin again is to live the writing life, the spiritual life, just human life.