It’s not too late...

Before I get back to the work of writing reviews, here are a few personal updates.

Be careful what you wish for.

Professors like me yearn for “summer break” because we are overworked and burned out from the demands of so many classes, so many students, so many meetings. And more than one-third of my “summer break” has passed without me experiencing any rest, any restoration, any “break.” And much of that is my own fault.

The conclusion of the academic year has a way of setting in motion a storm of new crises that need attention and that cost all kinds of emotion and energy. This year’s storm has been particularly severe. It’s like my family and community were just waiting for me to step down from my post to catch my breath, and boom! Unprecedented disruption, dispute, and distress. That’s the stuff I’m duty-bound to deal with, but it’s quite beyond my control.

Plenty of the challenges, though, have been matters of my own invention. While I am overjoyed that Lost and Found in the Cathedral of Cinema, the book I’ve been focused on writing for eleven years, is now finished, out in the world, and stirring up conversations, I am realizing — this should not surprise me — that the work is far from over. The work of launching the book with events, social media, and more is another all-consuming endeavor. Since the book’s publication on May 12, I have been busy planning, showing up for, participating in, and then responding to feedback on a marathon of public appearances, readings, and book-signings, I’ve spoken to wonderful communities in Seattle (Seattle Pacific University, Third Place Books, Hugo House), Bellingham (Village Books), the Texas Hill Country (Laity Lodge), and online. Thank you to everyone who has shown up for these celebrations! The attention, the conversations, the responses — all of this enthusiasm for the book has been incredibly affirming and gratifying.

And there are more such events on the horizon:

• I’ll be back at Hugo House on July 14 to offer a presentation called “The Writing Life as a Practice of Play” — and you're invited!
• I’ll talk about, read from, and discuss the book at Drumlin, a pub in Shoreline, at an event co-hosted by the wonderful indie bookstore Ridgecrest Books.

I have no regrets. I love this book and I want to give it the best chance possible of finding an audience.

And yet, having said all of that, I must also acknowledge that I am weary — in body, in mind, in spirit — beyond my capacity to describe. I know that I cannot sustain this pace of activity much longer without a break. The last several school years and summers have been the most relentless seasons of stress and crisis that I can recall. And I am realizing that no magical season of rest and recovery is going to materialize. I am going to have to build it myself, and that daunting endeavor is, in itself, a lot of work.

Don’t get me wrong — I have no intention of stepping away from writing here at this website. This is, in fact, one of the ways I rest, one of the ways I play. What I do here is how I process my experience, and how I tune up the weatherbeaten instruments of my imagination.

But what I do here may take on a more casual quality for a while, as I strive to take things more lightly and rediscover the joy of this kind of play.

Ultimately, my aim is to find my way back to fiction writing — the work that has felt like the purest and most vital investment of my time and talents since I was a small child. When I am not channeling stories of my own, I feel as if I am neglecting my own heart. When the blood of story is not flowing, my whole body suffers. And it has been many years since I last attended to that fundamental work.

And so, with that, I set out for a place of play.

Over the next several posts, I hope to catch you up on some joys that I have experienced along the way, the highlights that I have committed to sharing on this platform. I discovered these highlights with the support of all who invest in this website and this work. You know who you are! You, who have thrown coins into my guitar case either by donating to this site or buying my books (or both!) have kept me clear on who I am, what I have to offer, and what direction I should be moving. Thanks to all of you, site supporters. I hope that what I provide in the coming days is a richer fulfillment of the promises I’ve made to you about this site.

It would be easy to look about at the rising floodwaters — the wrecking ball that Americans have taken to their own democracy; the surge of racist violence that includes the betrayal and deportation of the very neighbors our Scriptures call us to welcome and love; the attacks on education, including the largely self-inflicted deterioration of my own university; the polarization of the American church between A) a commitment to loving our neighbors with sacrifice and grace, and B) a surrender to the hatreds and fears that fuel fascism; and the distress within my family ... and just collapse from the heartbreak of it all.

But the fundamental calls of the Scriptures that I call “holy” are

• Fear not!
• Strengthen the good things that remain.
• Cultivate the fruit of the Holy Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. And to refuse to answer hatred and violence with hatred and violence.

The time to make something beautiful is now.

As T Bone Burnett so wisely sings:

It’s not too late
It’s not too late
The atmosphere is lethal
But I will fear no evil....

Hey — here’s an idea: Let’s listen to that song again. It’s as meaningful and inspiring to me now as it was when I first heard it more than 30 years ago — maybe more so.