We were lucky to catch up with Shelly Lee recently and have shared our conversation below.

Shelly, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. Can you talk to us about a risk you’ve taken – walk us through the story?

The greatest risk I’ve taken in business wasn’t financial. It was obeying God before I had visible proof.

That obedience began the day I publicly called myself an Author Coach.

Before that, I was writing and self-publishing my own books. I was helping aspiring authors informally: reviewing outlines, answering questions, and helping them structure their ideas. People would tell me, “You helped me see my message clearly,” or “I finally understand how to organize my book.”

I hadn’t named what I was doing. I was comfortable being “an author who helps people.” That felt humble. Safe. Manageable.

Calling myself an Author Coach felt different. It felt like stepping into responsibility.

In June 2024, I was lying in bed one night, trying to fall asleep. The room was quiet. It had been a full day, and I wasn’t thinking about strategy or building anything new.

I kept hearing the same words in sequence:

Pray.
Plan.
Pen.
Proof.
Publish.

At first, I ignored it. Then it repeated clear, steady, and ordered. So I reached for my phone and typed the words into my notes.

When I looked at them written out, I immediately recognized something: this wasn’t random. It was the exact structure I had already been walking writers through. God wasn’t introducing something new; He was organizing what I had been doing all along.

In that quiet moment, I understood something clearly: this wasn’t just an idea. It was stewardship. And that realization created tension.

If God had entrusted me with a framework, then hiding behind vague language wasn’t humility. It was hesitation.

But publicly calling myself an Author Coach felt risky. I didn’t have a consistent income from the business yet. I wasn’t widely known. I was still working full-time. The internal questions surfaced quickly:

Who are you to claim that title?
What if no one responds?
What if you say it out loud and it doesn’t “look” successful?

I kept thinking I would claim the title once the income matched it.

But obedience doesn’t wait for evidence.

So I made the decision. I updated my bio. I introduced myself publicly as an Author Coach. I anchored my work under Pen.Paper.Publish. I claimed the 5P Method: Pray, Plan, Pen, Proof, Publish as the framework God entrusted to me.

Since that night, the framework has continued to deepen. God has expanded the vision, but I’ve learned that not every revelation is meant for immediate release. Some things are meant to be built quietly before they are shared publicly.

Nothing dramatic happened overnight. There was no instant surge of clients.

What changed was my posture.

Once I claimed the title, I started building like it was real, because it was. I stopped operating casually. I became intentional. I created structured offers. I developed my workbook. I built my intensive. I organized my business around clarity, discipline, and completion for faith-led writers.

The risk of saying “yes” publicly forced me to build privately with excellence.

There were moments when growth was slower than I hoped. Moments when visibility didn’t immediately convert. But I kept reminding myself that obedience is measured by faithfulness, not applause.

Looking back, the real risk wasn’t whether others would accept the title. The real risk was whether I would shrink back from the assignment. I didn’t.

And because of that decision, my business now has structure, direction, and a clear mission: helping faith-led writers move from calling to completion with clarity and discipline.

Sometimes the greatest risk in business isn’t financial at all. It’s choosing to stand in what God has already confirmed, even before the results catch up.

That decision changed everything.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

I am the Founder of Pen.Paper.Publish and a faith-led Author Coach who helps aspiring writers move from calling to completion with structure and discipline.

My work is centered around one core belief: journals don’t finish assignments, structure does.

I entered this space first as a writer. After self-publishing multiple books, I began noticing a pattern. Many people felt called to write, but they were stuck in hesitation. They had journals full of thoughts, voice notes full of ideas, and years of “one day” conversations; but no finished manuscript.

What they lacked wasn’t inspiration. It was structure.

As I began helping other writers informally, I realized most aspiring authors don’t need more motivation. They need clarity, a repeatable framework, and accountability rooted in discipline. That realization led to the development of the 5P Method: Pray, Plan, Pen, Proof, Publish, a faith-centered, execution-focused pathway designed to move writers from uncertainty to completion.

Through Pen.Paper.Publish, I provide structured tools and coaching pathways that guide writers through each stage of the process. My core offers include:

• A clarity workbook for writers who feel called but lack direction
• A strategic 1:1 intensive where we extract and structure their core message
• A 90-day accountability path designed to move writers from outline to completed draft

What sets my approach apart is balance. I do not center emotion, I center execution.

I am faith-forward, but I am also structured. I believe in prayer and in planning. I believe in inspiration and in discipline. My clients learn that confidence does not precede action, clarity does.

I am most proud of the posture shift I see in the writers I work with. They stop saying, “I want to write a book,” and start saying, “I am writing my book.” That identity shift matters.

I also take pride in building my business with integrity. I work full-time while developing this vision intentionally. I am not interested in hype. I am committed to stewardship.

For potential clients and followers, the main thing I want them to know is this: if you feel called to write, that calling deserves structure. You do not need more waiting. You need a plan and disciplined follow-through.

Pen.Paper.Publish exists to ensure obedience turns into completion.

What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?

One of the biggest lessons I had to unlearn was thinking that visibility automatically equals income.

When I first started showing up consistently in my business: posting, teaching, sharing, building, I genuinely believed that if I did the work, the revenue would just follow. It seemed logical. Show up. Serve well. Stay consistent. The rest will happen.

But that’s not how it works.

There was a season where I was visible, active, and creating, and the income wasn’t matching the effort. And instead of slowing down and refining, my first instinct was to add more.

More content.
More ideas.
More tweaks.
More offers.

I convinced myself that the problem was volume. In reality, the problem wasn’t effort. It was clarity.

I was equating movement with momentum. And those are not the same thing.

That season taught me something critical: visibility builds awareness, but clarity builds conversion. You can be seen and still not be structured in a way that moves people to act.

Once I stopped overcomplicating and started refining: strengthening my messaging, simplifying my offers, tightening my framework, things began to feel more aligned.

I also realized how easy it is to respond to slow growth with noise instead of strategy.

That lesson changed how I build. And it changed how I coach.

Many aspiring writers think they need more ideas, more inspiration, more content. Most of the time, they don’t. They need direction and disciplined execution.

I know that because I had to learn it myself.

Sometimes growth doesn’t come from adding something new. It comes from simplifying and executing what you already have.

Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?

If I had to share a story that truly illustrates my resilience, it would be the day I almost quit writing altogether.

I was part of a virtual book tour. I had told my family. I had told my friends. I was excited. The next morning, I got dressed, sat at my computer, and logged into my virtual room ready to talk about my book.

And no one showed up.

One woman — a stranger — popped in briefly, said “good job,” and left to visit other rooms. I still had to stay on the platform for the entire hour. I sat there watching the clock, hoping someone would log in.

No one did.

When it ended, I was embarrassed. I was angry. I felt exposed. I remember thinking, “You told everybody… and nobody came.”

Before I even made it fully to my room, my daughter asked, “How did it go?” I told her, “I quit.” She said, “I don’t think you should quit.” And I told her, “I don’t care.”

I went into my room, changed into comfortable clothes, put on my satin cap, got in the bed, and tried to have a hard, ugly cry.

But the more I tried to cry, the more God only allowed a few tears to fall.

I told Him I was done. I said I didn’t care what He had to say about it. I was finished.

Then my phone started going off.

A woman I had met online called. I ignored her. She messaged me. I told her I quit. She called again. I ignored it. Then she reached out again and said, “No ma’am. You will not quit. Cry if you need to. Be upset. But you are not quitting.”

Then a male business friend messaged me and asked how it went. I told him I quit. He said, “Don’t quit, Queen.”

Then my mother called. She couldn’t attend because she had to work. I told her no one showed up for me. I told her I quit. She said, “That’s how people do sometimes. But you don’t quit.”

And even when I didn’t want to be bothered, the more people kept asking, “How did it go?”

Later that evening, another friend reached out and asked. I told her everything I experienced. She listened. She encouraged me. And she told me it would get better and not to quit.

That day, I learned something I still carry with me: Vent but don’t quit.

Resilience for me isn’t pretending things don’t hurt. It’s feeling it fully, saying exactly how I feel, and choosing not to stay there.

I didn’t quit.

I kept writing. I kept building. I kept showing up.

And I realized that day that obedience isn’t about who shows up, it’s about whether I do.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.penpaperpublish.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/pen.paper.publish
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