Are blogs still a thing? It seems the world has moved on to podcasts and vlogs (which, recently I learned, means video logs). While I am leading and hosting the renowned Unfolding Wings podcast, seeking to help young adult and/or spiritual seekers explore their faith in authentic ways by asking and answering questions on relevant subjects, I'm a writer at heart. So hopefully you, whoever you are reading this, are not the only one.
Six or seven years ago, I started the Seminarians Don't Blow Stuff Up project. I wanted to write about some funny and meaningful stories and lessons from my seminary days before I developed too many white hairs and forgot. I wrote each piece about one story or one subject at a time, in essay form, because that's what works in blogs. I had no grand plans or ambitions except to unload my mind and spirit of what was within me.
At the time, it was good for me to write. My last publication, Created Human Divinity, was published shortly after my marriage--I think, I honestly can't remember--eleven years ago. From that point, I started and worked at a number of projects and none clicked. Besides, my first two books didn't result in literary acclaim or fame. I had always secretly hoped that I could "make it" as a writer or at least be well-known in certain circles as a writer, even if the circle was just my hometown. None of that happened. Spiritually I had to give up on self: writing could not be about external praise. Writing had to be an outpouring of self, of what God had put within me. That isn't easy for any ego to handle but I worked it out, eventually. And then I realized I still needed to write. For myself. Somehow. Thus, my first Seminarians Don't Blow Stuff Up piece.
Since I was only writing for myself, ultimately, to release and unload what was within me, I took my time. Each new piece was usually separated by months. There was a ton of repetition because I couldn't remember, nor did I care, what was in the previous pieces. After a few years I realized I had enough for a book, so I added a few more chapters that weren't published on-line, edited them all, and felt accomplished.
Except the next question was, what to do with the book I had finished? Some part of my ego hadn't been completely handed over to God and peace and joy. I wanted to go the traditional publishing route. My first book, 27 Million Revolutions for 27 Million Slaves, was self-published via BookBaby. I don't even know if that's still a company. Created Human Divinity was self-published via a hybrid: WestBow Press, like other hybrid publishing companies, receives payment and then produces the book for you, including placement on Amazon and other major markets. Self-publishing either route puts you in an initial financial hole. When you bet on yourself, that hole is an investment. I had learned from my first two experiences, though, that the hole can remain a hole. Plus, self-publishing had put me on a list somewhere of suckers that other vultures should contact to see if we're willing to shell out another few thousand dollars for no further results. I was tired of those calls and e-mails. I wanted a different aura; I wanted the sheen of evolution, progress, and having "made it": the traditional way.
Here comes another "except." Except that I didn't have the time nor the patience for sending out manuscript after manuscript to hear 'no' over and over again. I also learned from some acquaintances, including the president of my seminary, that, actually, traditional publishing nowadays has fallen apart. It's harder than ever to break into traditional publishing houses unless you have some title or acclaim already and the financial contracts are worse than ever before. I don't know this for a fact but all four of the published writers I spoke to, a couple of whom have written more than ten books each, strongly suggested that I forego the traditional publishing route.
Then a friend asked, "John, why did you write this in the first place?" And I remembered. Yes, I'd love for my ego to get patted on the back, get a nice head rub, a catered massage, too, if possible. Ultimately, though, I want to take what's inside me and get it out. Any form of publishing, then, is what I need. I returned to WestBow Press and am looking forward to the premiere of Seminarians Don't Blow Stuff Up in the next few weeks.
Keep an eye out for links to get your copy!
What I'm saying here, really, is that writing and publishing have become spiritual practices for me. I can't be beholden to the need to publish or become famous or financially sustained through writing. None of those reasons for writing were or are good for me. Writing needs to be good for my soul. It's a way of processing and sharing whatever gifts I may have with others, even if there are only one or two others reading. Publishing is simply the means I have for sharing. I believe--and maybe this is my ego again--that God has given me some things to say, so I can't wait around for traditional publishers. I can't be a David Mitchell or Zadie Smith. I imagine the same is true for many of us. There's no shame in self-publishing.
I've also learned in this process that sometimes I just need to write for myself. During the process of writing what has become Seminarians Don't Blow Stuff Up, I wrote another book, a novel, that will never see the light of day. I called it You Mock My Pain, as a reference to one of my favorite books/movies, The Princess Bride. I'm not a novel writer. I've learned that, too. I write essays. That's about all I can do well. But I had to write this novel to process a couple of deaths: a friend from elementary school was murdered while at seminary and I always thought I could have saved her life; and one of my best friends through much of high school died on his honeymoon. In a strange way, I thought I could have saved his life, too. More than saving his life, I have felt since he passed that I have much to learn from how he lived his life. Despite therapy and talking to my wife, I never felt I could properly put into words how I felt and thought about either one of these tragic deaths. I needed to write about it. And I certainly don't want the world to see it (partly because, again, I'm not good at writing novels).
Whether you are a writer or not, I think there's a lesson in here for all of us. It is good and right to empty ourselves, particularly of our egos. Empty ourselves of our hopes and dreams. Work towards something, that's fine, but empty ourselves of our hopes and dreams. Do what you are called and gifted to do because you are called and gifted, not because you might some day hear, "Wow! You're awesome!" Do what is good for you to do because it is good for you, not because you might one day receive a million dollar check.
Because I'll tell you, in order for this book of mine to be a success, I need to market. You know what writers hate doing? Marketing. My attempt at marketing is this post, more writing. I'll never be good at marketing my books. I don't want to be. I don't care to be. I'd go so far as to say that you shouldn't want or care to be a good marketer, either. Things are a little different, of course, if you're trying to make a living from putting your spiritual gifts to use, but even then we need to separate our sense of self-worth from worldly success. Be good at who you are, what you've been gifted at by God, and grow in grace. That's what matters.
As I recently said to my wife, be at peace with now, even in your day dreaming.
Oh, and one last attempt at marketing: buy the new book!
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