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Dear readers and writers,

I'm so pleased to relaunch . The site is a resource for readers and writers of spiritual memoir. Check it out! As always, I welcome your suggestions for good books to review and journals that accept submissions.

Elizabeth

Emily and I recently had one of our two garages torn down (for the sake of more garden) and replaced the hole in our house with a magnificent bay window. The immediate consequences of this project is a house full of dust and a tremendous amount of painting. In my every spare minute I’m sanding and priming. And in my dreams beyond the high rafters the drywall is bare and unreachable, the task of covering it overwhelming. Some part inside me needs painting, too.

Most days I live in my house unthinkingly, but when I’m deep in a home improvement project I grow acutely aware of how the walls I live within aren’t just random; they reveal and shape my interior, and will do so for every soul who ever lives here. How this is so is a mystery. I remember an article by Maya Angelou in an architectural magazine in which she blamed her first two divorces on the structures of the houses they lived in.

When I bought my first house, the previous owner had decorated the kitchen with quirky black zigzags and painted the claw-foot tub’s toenails red. His boldness inspired me to paint a mandala on the front porch—a creative act I’d never have done otherwise given my decoratively conservative upbringing.

More:

(A big thanks to participants in the Book Binders� Salon for a stimulating conversation last night about rejection. I’m indebted to you for most of this post!)

Grungy Text Abstract“Rejections slips,� wrote Isaac Asimov, “however tactfully phrased, are lacerations of the soul, if not quite inventions of the devil � but there is no way around them.�

The hard reality for every writer is that we face rejection prior to publication—from grantors, contests, agents, and publishers—and after publication, in the form of bad reviews (if we’re lucky enough to have our work reviewed), readers� scorn, and sales numbers. These “lacerations of the soul� are a given. We fear their sting long before we feel it. Once we’re rejected, and rejected repeatedly, it’s impossible not to be affected. We believe the rejections, we form a thick skin, we reject our writing prematurely so others don’t have to do it for us, we despair, we rebel and self-publish, we lash out at the publishing industry, and (hopefully) we return to our desks to continue writing.

It’s so easy to get thrown off kilter.

I’m curious about what a centered, soulful response to this publishing environment might look like. There’s a refrain in authors� advice about rejection: Return to the work. Trust the process. Remember your path.

“There are still many more days of failure ahead, whole seasons of failure, things will go terribly wrong, you will have huge disappointments, but you have to prepare for that, you have to expect it and be resolute and follow your own path.� � Anton Chekhov.

“I discovered that rejections are not altogether a bad thing. They teach a writer to rely on his own judgment and to say in his heart of hearts, ‘To hell with you.’� � Saul Bellow

“This manuscript of yours that has just come back from another editor is a precious package. Don’t consider it rejected. Consider that you’ve addressed it ‘to the editor who can appreciate my work� and it has simply come back stamped ‘Not at this address�. Just keep looking for the right address.� � Barbara Kingsolver

“You ask whether your verses are good� You send them to magazines. You compare them with other poems, and you are disturbed when certain editors reject your efforts. Now…I beg you to give up all that. You are looking outward, and that above all you should not do now. Nobody can counsel and help you, nobody. There is only one single way. Go into yourself. Search for the reason that bids you write; find out whether it is spreading out its roots in the deepest places of your heart, acknowledge to yourself whether you would have to die if it were denied you to write.� � Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet.

But wait! the doubter inside says. Maybe my work really isn’t good. Maybe I could make it better. This is true, and yes, you should always strive to grow as a writer. Rejection, well received, can keep us humble. Good rejection teaches us how to improve. In working toward acceptance, we strive for a higher quality of thought and craft. But we should never give editors, publishers, grantors or the marketplace complete authority over what deserves to be written and shared. Even the best gatekeepers are imperfect. And no gatekeeper has authority over your soul. We get thrown off track whenever we give others� opinions more power than our own, which is why success can be just as damaging as rejection. “You have to know how to accept rejection and reject acceptance,� Ray Bradbury wrote.

Experienced authors know that real authority resides in our initial and steady drive to create. We tap a source of inspiration, guidance, and perseverance, and this source is reliable even in the face of an audience. I think the spiritual challenge of publishing (in whatever form) is staying connected and faithful to this source.

If you have any stories about how you do this, I’d love to hear them!

Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ just added a feature where you can submit questions to authors! Feel free to drop me a question any time.

Today's the last day of Koehler Book's $5 ebook sale! Get 'em while they're cheap!

"I have become a crusader against insufficient questions and answers that stand in, prematurely and destructively, for both justice and mystery." This is Krista Tippett's concise statement of her life's work, and her memoir, SPEAKING OF FAITH, is a wild romp through an abundance of questions and exploratory answers. Tippett is a conversationalist extraordinaire; she's written a memoir that traces her faith journey in relationship to the Christian conservatism of her childhood, the cold war climate in Berlin where she was a journalist, and the hundreds of dialogues she's initiated over the years of hosting "Speaking of Faith." In other words, it's a faith story largely shaped by ideas. And so this book lacks the narrative drive and vivid scenes we often expect of memoirs. But for those of us searching to integrate our relationship with mystery into all dimensions of our lives--our political outlook, our religious discourse, our family dynamics, our life's work--Tippett's memoir is a beautiful, heartfelt, sweeping role model. I highly recommend it.


Erudite analyses, for all their merits, rarely take note of the power of a sense of belovedness as an antidote to fear.
--Krista Tippett, Speaking of Faith

I bought Rachel Held Evans's book because I was intrigued by the phenomenon of her blog, which attracts tens of thousands of readers and has made her a force in evangelical circles. Why? And how?

EVOLVING IN MONKEY TOWN holds the answer. Evans is a solid story-teller, her theology is thought-provoking, and she's clearly a likeable, faithful woman. Her memoir is a quick, clear, moving read--if you don't mind occasional Biblical exegesis. But what makes this book (and Evans herself) extraordinary, I imagine, is how it traces the path of an entire generation of evangelical Christians coming of age in the 1990s, into the extreme challenges that a globalized, internet-driven culture presents to people of faith. And Evans's faith survives, albeit changed. This is a story of resilience. I imagine Evans is so popular because she illustrates how rigid belief can transform into flexible, resilient, and enduring faith. And this is a story our culture needs.

"In the end, the same question that frightened and intimidated me as a child provided the clearest way out: What if I’m wrong? � To be wrong about God is the condition of humanity, for better or for worse. � In the end, it was doubt that saved my faith." --Rachel Held Evans

UNORTHODOX is the memoir of a young woman raised in the Satmar sect of Hasidic Judaism, an ultra-conservative group living in Brooklyn. Feldman is gifted; she plunges the reader into a cult-like world and makes us desperate for air. The book's strengths--its suspense; the reader's need to see our beloved author escape--are also its weaknesses. Without a reflective narrator--indeed, without distance from these events to reflect--the story lacks insight.

I'm reluctant to call this a spiritual memoir since some of the book's central questions remain unanswered. What will be the author's relationship with God outside of her religion? What will her relationship to her body and to sexuality look like? What, after all, does freedom mean? These are the hazards of writing the story of your childhood when you're in your 20s--no perspective.

Nonetheless, as a story of escaping an oppressive faith tradition, UNORTHODOX is powerful. Many thanks to Feldman for this brave tale.

I don’t understand how anyone, myself included, can create a dynamic story. Stories have a life all their own—their own wisdom, their own flaws, their own power. Today is launch day for Hannah, Delivered, and to celebrate I want to kneel down before the mystery that is story.

As you can imagine, I’ve been riding an emotional rollercoaster as I prepare to put a decade’s worth of effort into the public eye. One reader weeps, she’s so moved by the novel, and I’m elated. Another reader is furious about a mistake in the book, and I feel miserable. And so it goes, up and down, until I’m driving my family berserk.

When I’m having labor pains like this, my partner Emily sometimes asks me, “What would Hannah do?� The question makes me laugh, but it’s right on. Really she’s saying, “Consult something other than your mercurial feelings. What does the story say?�

Thanks to all who registered to win a copy of HANNAH, DELIVERED! And congrats to Rachel from London, England, who will receive a free copy.

HANNAH releases May 1st, so she's now available for purchase in both soft cover and ebook. Enjoy!