5 Lessons I Learned Writing - Ave Maria
When I first started writing Ave Maria, I thought I had a clear vision of where the story was going. I had the characters, the tone, and even a few pivotal scenes etched in my mind like stained glass windows. But as with most creative journeys, writing this book taught me far more than I expected—about myself, my writing process, and what it means to bring a story to life.
Here are five lessons I learned while writing Ave Maria—lessons that have changed the way I write forever.
1. The Characters Will Always Surprise You
I went in thinking I knew my protagonist intimately. I created her voice, gave her a past, even shaped the way she walked into a room. But as the story unfolded, she kept making choices I didn’t expect—choices that made her feel more real than anything I could have plotted. Writing Ave Maria reminded me to give my characters room to breathe. They don’t always do what you want, but that’s the point. The moment I stopped forcing them and started listening, the book found its soul.
2. Vulnerability Is a Superpower
There are parts of Ave Maria that were deeply personal, painful even, to write. I didn’t set out to put my own heart on the page—but the story demanded it. There’s a line between fiction and truth, but in this book, that line blurred. What I realized is that vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s the place where real connection happens. The moments that scared me the most to write? They’re the ones readers have connected to the most.
3. You Don’t Have to Write in Order
I used to believe I had to write my novels from beginning to end. Chapter 1, then 2, then 3. With Ave Maria, that structure fell apart—and it was the best thing that could’ve happened. Some of the most emotionally intense scenes came to me in fragments—out of order, out of context—but they were alive. Writing them as they came helped me stay connected to the energy of the story, and later, I stitched everything together with more purpose and clarity.
4. Let the Silence Speak
There’s a lot of space in Ave Maria—between words, between people, between lives. One of the most powerful things I learned was to let silence do the heavy lifting. Not every moment needs to be filled with dialogue or explanation. Sometimes, what a character doesn’t say says everything. Trusting the reader—and the moment—to carry that weight made the story feel more human, more honest.
5. Trust the Unfinished
There were nights I hated this book. Days I wanted to throw it out entirely. But I kept going because something in it wouldn’t let go of me. What I learned is that every draft feels unfinished—until it doesn’t. Writing Ave Maria taught me to keep showing up, even when the pages looked like a mess. Especially then. Because the mess is where the beauty begins.
Final Thoughts
Ave Maria started as a story. But it ended up becoming a mirror. It taught me patience, presence, and how to write from a place of deeper truth. I’m proud of what came out of that process—not just the book itself, but the version of myself that finished it.
If you’ve read Ave Maria, I’d love to hear what you took from it. And if you haven’t yet, maybe now’s the time.
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