Starting A New Chapter

 

This past week I "finished" a chapter for my spiritual memoir. By finished, I don't mean it is perfect and needs no additional work or revisions. No, instead, it is now simply "at rest," and it is time to move on to the next chapter.

The time between setting a chapter aside and starting a new one is always a shaky time for me. 

First, there is the ritual of reading the completed chapter to my writing group. We four have been together for several years now, meeting a couple times a month. Before the pandemic we usually met in my living room. I provided snacks and beverages, and they provided the wisdom, insights, and support. Now we meet via ZOOM, which obviously is not the same, but the wisdom, insights, and support remain. 

 I listen carefully to their suggestions and responses and make notes on my manuscript. Sometimes I think, "Wow, why didn't I see that before? Of course, I need to expand that thought." Other times I think to myself, "Nope, I am going to leave it just as it is." I am tempted to return to my desk and revise, revise, revise, but instead I place it in the box with other chapters and say to myself, "It is time to move on. I will return to this later."

Then there is the clearing and ordering of the space. Filing and sorting and tossing. The cleaning phase extends beyond the garret into the rest of the house. And in the case of this past week that meant creating a summer into fall look in the house. Not pumpkins, yet, but can they be far behind? 

Hometending is a spiritual practice for me, a way to steady myself, to lighten my load, to invite a new perspective into view, and to re-connect with my life beyond my desk. And so I shop the house and re-arrange and try this and try that and call it play.

Soon, however, it is time to return to the garret and open a new file, "Chapter Five, Part III..." and that's when the doubts return. Why am I doing this in the first place? Why can't I be content to spend my days reading and baking cookies and emailing friends and walking in the neighborhood and watching Netflix? What makes me think I am a writer anyway? 

I go through this litany of doubt each time I approach a new chapter. Every single time. That doubt seems to be getting worse as I get closer to the planned end of the memoir, because once I come to the end of the last chapter and have done an overall revision, then I will need to do something with it--write a book proposal, look for an agent, a publisher, and on and on. 

It's at that point I remind myself about what I am doing, why I am doing this. I write to share how spiritual practices can impact and enhance our lives and deepen our relationship to God. Using stories from my life, I write to help others discover spiritual practices for life's labyrinth. This is my one true thing, and I need to get a grip and begin working on the next chapter. 

And so the process begins. I go through notes I've made for the new topic. I brainstorm ideas and stories. I shop my bookshelves for material to support the topic and to stretch my thinking and approach. I immerse myself in the possibilities and begin to form a plan. 

Eventually, that leads to writing the dreaded first draft--my least favorite part of the process--but that is a whole other topic.

Here's the point. Aren't we always beginning again? Aren't we always in transition? Isn't there always a need to re-ground, to re-commit, to move forward? Don't we always fight our doubts? Aren't we always in process? Ending a chapter? Living in the midst of a chapter? Starting a new one? 

That's the deal, and we need--I need--to pay attention to what strengthens me no matter which chapter I am in at the moment. I need to pay attention to what leads me further away from the person I was created to be and what brings me closer. No small task, but a worthy one. 

Enough. I need to return to the new chapter--whatever it turns out to be.

 Good work is work that develops us as we develop it. To know if the work we are doing is worth it, we need to ask ourselves what it brings out in us: creativity, commitment, artistry, compassion?                                       Joan Chittister 

 

An Invitation: What strengthens you right now? Which chapter are you in the midst of writing? I would love to know. 

Some Reading Recommendations From The Past Week

1.   My Grandmother's Hands, Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies by Resmaa Menaken, MSW, LICSW, SEP. I am only a third of the way into this book, but it is a WOW read. This morning I read the chapter called "The False Fragility of the White Body," which includes a list of the ways white Americans use white fragility to avoid facing our own unhealed and historical trauma. Put this on your list--move it to the top of your list. Here's an interview with the author: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-author-speaks/201709/my-grandmother-s-hands

2. A post in Diana Butler Bass's blog, The Cottage about wearing masks--"The Vexing Spirituality of Masks." https://dianabutlerbass.substack.com/p/just-pieces-of-cloth

3. An essay by the author Sing, Unburied, Sing, Jesmyn Ward about the death of her husband and so much more.... https://www.vanityfair.com/culture/2020/08/jesmyn-ward-on-husbands-death-and-grief-during-covid

4.    Of course, I continue to read fiction, too. Recent ones include 

       A Good Neighborhood by Therese Anne Fowler

      The Bookseller, The First Hugo Marston Mystery by Mark Pryor

      The Most Fun We Ever Had by Claire Lombardo 

      Like A Mule Bringing Ice Cream to the Sun by Sarah Ludipo Manyika

       Belong To Me by Marisa de los Santos