A few weeks ago, my friend Meredith posted a blog entry answering four questions about her writing. When I read
to the end, I was surprised to see that she had asked me and some other writers
to answer the same four questions. So here I am, coming back to my blog after a
long absence for this pleasantly self-indulgent exercise. Hope you enjoy it!
What am I writing and
working on?
Last fall I quit my full-time job to begin writing in a more
concentrated way. It’s been nearly a year, and even though I am once again
working about 40 hours a week, I am still writing.
The main project is a novel, but I also dabble in short
stories, songs, and essays when the mammoth weight of the novel gets too much.
Fiction:
The Red Road. This
is the biggie. I started this novel in college for a novella class and placed
the first fifty pages into my professor’s hands, if only to remove them from my
sight. My A- earned, the novel sat mostly dormant for three years. Last fall,
with much encouragement from friends, I sat down with a basic memory of the story
and began to type, starting at the very beginning as Maria Von Trap recommends.
The novel follows two boys as they walk along a forbidden
road to save their village. It’s a journey narrative, fraught with danger,
brotherhood, and mythology. I spend nearly 10 hrs a week plugging away on this
story. I hope that, many years from now, you’ll pick up a copy at your local
bookstore if those are still a thing.
“Churchgoing.” This is a short story about a seminary
student visiting his mom’s church during Christmas break. His high-minded
sensibilities clash with the church’s charismatic exuberance, pushing him
uncomfortably toward an O’Connor-esque encounter with grace. This story is a
ton of fun to write, and I sometimes embarrass myself by laughing out loud at
my own writing. I haven’t shared fiction publicly since college, but I hope to post
“Churchgoing” on the blog when it’s complete.
Non-Fiction:
You may have noticed that my blog has been dormant for
awhile. This is due in part to the amount of focus The Red Road demands, but also in part to the difficulty
I’ve had making sense of my life. Every now and then I’ll record a partial
thought on my computer, dipping a ladle into a boiling pot to see if anything
has congealed. The thoughts that emerge generally land in one of two categories,
which will eventually form the basis of two blog series:
“Recovering Narrative.” Recently I’ve struggled to form a
meaningful narrative from the disjointed pieces of my life. “Recovering
Narrative” discusses various crises of faith, confusion over where my life is
heading, and the way God has led me painstakingly back toward a meaningful
narrative.
“In Defense of Beauty.” I’ve been gathering material and
writing notes for this piece for many years now. I’m fascinated by the ways we
avoid beauty, insisting on mediators which inoculate us to its influence. “In
Defense of Beauty” is my love-letter to the world, the kind that’s written both
to praise and provoke.
Music:
Does anyone remember that one time I promised to have a
homemade CD out by April 2014? Does anyone remember how that never happened?
Well I’m SORRY! I’m still working on that, although not very
consistently. I’ve been pretty disappointed by the sound quality of what I’m
able to do at home. I really should take a month off from writing the novel to
make some headway on this project. I should also lower my standards—a lot. But
let’s be honest, neither of these is likely to happen anytime soon. I guess the
world will have to wait.
I am, however, writing some songs. My current favorite:
“Eyes Facing Out.” This is a simple ditty I’ve been turning
over in my mind for several months, concerning the strange way God made us. I
think it’s really interesting that we can’t see our own faces or really even
hear what our voices sound like, that we need others to see and hear us.
If you’re interested
in any of these projects, give a shout out! Your encouragement keeps a tired
writer going!
How does my work
differ from others in the genre?
My work differs from others’ in one key way—it is unfinished.
I know that’s a big copout, but I’ve always been a restless policeman. (That’s
an attempted pun on “cop-out.” It doesn’t really work. Pretend it does and
laugh!)
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that my work is
unfinished. That in itself sets it apart from nearly every work that has
inspired me, encouraged or chastened me, and ultimately inspired me to write. When
I compare myself to Marilynne Robinson or C.S. Lewis, I am comparing my
beginning endeavors to their finished work. I have no access to their
scribblings, their embarrassing false starts, the dirty layers hidden beneath
years of revision.
I’ve sometimes compared writing a novel to building a plane.
It can’t fly at all till the work is mostly done. A constant labor of faith and
imagination is required to believe that such a heavy thing will ever get off
the ground.
Why do I write what I
do?
In a broader sense, I write novels because that is the form
that best facilitates the way my mind works, allowing space for
interconnectedness and slow-brew revelations. I enjoy the marathon pace.
In a specific sense, I’m writing The Red Road because I promised I would. I have been a novelist
since I was young, but I have never finished a novel. There are many days when
I don’t feel any affection for this story (and many days I do). And there’s no
guarantee I’ll be published. For me, writing The Red Road is mostly about becoming a person who can persevere
beyond aborted projects and half-formed ideas, becoming a person who finishes
things that matter.
How does my writing
process work?
People often ask me if I’m done with that novel I’m working
on. For the next several years, assume the answer is no. A better question
would be, “How’s the novel coming along?” An even better question would be,
“Would you like a generous coffee patron?”
Flannery O’Connor describes novel-writing as “a terrible
experience, during which the hair often falls out and the teeth decay.”
I like that quote because it makes what I do sound EPIC. In
reality I’m just sitting at a coffee shop, typing, my hair and teeth fully
intact. I quietly add paragraphs and pages to a work that seems not to grow
longer.
I keep a tally of my writing hours in an excel spreadsheet
like a budget. The danger is to think I’ve been writing when I haven’t. The
numbers keep me honest (mostly).
When I sit down to write, I try not to rehash my identity as
a writer. I try not to question whether my work has any worth. A year ago, I
made a decision through prayer and a lot of consideration, and I have to trust
it. The right time for self-doubt was approximately 75 pages ago. Which must mean that now is the time for faith.
I’m not going to tag more friends, because I don’t know
enough bloggers. But do yourself a favor and check out Meredith’s blog,
Very Revealing. My favorite entries so far are “My Mustache Brings all the Boysto the Yard,” “Walking off the Career Path,” and--what has to be the most encouraging thing I've read in a long time--“Learning How to Run (well, walk).”
