I told myself I would report on
the Festival by Friday, and here it is Sunday—late again! Plus, the pressure is
on to post in time to start Screen-Free Week, a national excuse to trade TV-
and computer-staring for face-time with family and friends. Tom and I will have
to do work stuff at our computers, but I, at least, am going to try to steer
clear of social networking sites, blogs, Craigslist, and the like. (Who says
“and the like”? One of my seminary profs… which one..?—8 hours later, I
remember: Dr. Wayne McCown!)
The thing about the Festival of Faith & Writing is that it really
should be called the FEAST-ival of Faith and Writing. And like any banquet of
gourmet dishes and delectable morsels, it takes time to digest — maybe months.
But here I am, 5 days gone and 5 6 7 days back and I feel obliged
to give some account to my readers and myself about what went on among the
trees and the tulips of middle Michigan.
Like last time, I went in cold. I had read almost none of the featured
authors’ works (even though, unlike last time, I had plenty of advance notice
and even more good intentions about preparing for the event). Also like last
time, I feel ill-prepared to reflect on the event overall. My fellow Festival
attendees Holly
Jennings and John
Wilson have encapsulated the event with success and good humor. (Or how about this
blogger—talk about encapsulating! She boiled it down to 319 words. If you
want my short version, read to the
end of the next paragraph and stop. That’s 356.)
I will endeavor to follow the best advice I received during the
Festival: Just Do It! Create time to write—schedule it!—and write with as much
honesty as you can muster. Worry about the onerous questions later, like
whether or not to pursue publication, and whether or not anyone will ever read
the words I labor to compose. The main message I heard with my whole heart was:
“Write! Write your stories! You’re
the only one who can!”
But before I do, I will share a few jots from my FFW notebook… These
drawn-out blatherings call to mind Blaise Pascal’s apology: “I would have
written a shorter letter but didn’t have time.” I would prefer to be pithy, but
I’m rushed as usual. I rely on your good graces and skimming skills.
THURSDAY, APRIL 19
10:00 – 10:20 a.m. Chapel
Service - Luci Shaw
Luci is simply lovely—lovely and strong. Best friend of the late
Madeleine L’Engle. I don’t consider myself much of a “poetry person” (I often
don’t “get” it)—except when someone like Luci is reading her artwork of words
aloud to me. Then I don’t see how anyone—not even a person as dense and
unsophisticated as I am—could fail to revel in the beauty of her genre.
10:30 – 11:15 a.m. Festival
Sampler - Aaron Belz, Kathryn Erskine, Amy Frykholm, Bethany Pierce, Jana
Riess, Judith Shulevitz
Of these writers who read excerpts of their work to prime the pump
of our time together—surprise!—I “got” another poet, Aaron Belz. His hilarious
ruminations about worms and ectoplasm can be found on my
friend Holly’s blog. The other writers were good, too. But it all happened
so fast that I can only remember snippets of their stories, now separated from
their sources in my overstuffed brain…
The girl who climbed the tree to impress her father; the girl who
dated a boy who punched her in the face in front of everyone at a school swim
meet; the woman who drank beer before driving her children to synagogue; the
woman who tried—and failed miserably—to reenact the lives of the saints (I think
that was Riess, whose lecture I attended later the same day).
12:00 – 1:15 p.m. “Where the
Servants Dwell” - Gary Schmidt
Unfortunately, I did not take
notes at this plenary session. I bet you could find a review on the Calvin
website, among the student publications, since Schmidt is a Calvin prof.
1:45 – 2:45 p.m. “Memoir Is
Cheaper Than Therapy: Laughing at Your Life” - Jana Riess
This session was interesting but ill-named, I thought. It was much
more poignant than funny, plus someone in the line to the ladies’ room was rude
to me just beforehand. Her mean spirit cast a shadow on my enjoyment of this
talk. (Yes, really. I know, I know—I need to let things roll off!)
The thing I remember most was Riess’ account of a mother and
daughter on the mother’s death bed. The elder bequeathed all of her personal
journals to the younger, who, after a period of mourning, very much looked
forward to reuniting with her mother through the written word. The daughter
found a large collection of journals on the bookshelf her mother had specified.
But when she opened them, one after another after another, she found them all
blank. The lesson (I think) was: Don’t let this happen to you or your family. Fill
your journals for the good of your loved ones.
2:45 – 3:15 p.m. coffee break - The
lines for coffee and snacks were much too long, and the coffee was mediocre.
3:15 – 4:15 p.m. “Write Your Life”- Susan E. Isaacs
Maybe the most beneficial session
for me at the whole Festival. Isaacs encouraged—urged us, really—to write the
stories of our lives that we feel compelled to write, regardless of the
potential for publication or profit. I liked her so much that I switched my
plans to attend another session she was leading.
This session was part lecture,
part workshop, and I came away with a partial game plan for writing a
particular story (a book, perhaps?—I’ll worry about that later). I have in mind
to get it written between now and the next Festival (Spring 2014—a ways off,
but Isaacs encouraged us to keep our writing goals realistic).
4:30 – 5:30 p.m. “Telling the Truth in Love: The Tricky Bits of
Writing Memoir” - Amy Julia Becker, Jennifer Grant, Margot
Starbuck
Also interesting, but the room was too full and
my seat was an awkward perch on the window sill. I found it difficult to pay
attention while my butt went numb. Generally, I preferred the sessions with
just one speaker, rather than the panel setting. (Duly noted for future
Festivals. And boy-do-I-ever plan to return!)
7:30 – 8:30 p.m. “Reading
Between the Lines” - Jonathan Safran Foer
I found the author of Extremely
Loud and Incredibly Close extremely handsome and incredibly smart...and
surprisingly young! (Any published author younger than I am surprises me, I
suppose. I am getting to “that age.”) He spoke with ease, told lots of stories,
and held the attention of the audience admirably (and not only because of his
good looks). The thing I remember most about what he said was that he wished he
had put more effort into nurturing his relationship with his mentor, who died
before Foer was ready to let him go. Not everyone can be as brilliant and
successful as this young man, but we all can pay attention to the relationships
that matter most to us—and endeavor not to neglect them.
9:00 – 9:45 p.m. Redbud Writers’ Guild reception
We crashed the party and met some cool writer-people. A tall
urbanite wearing a black dress and carrying a cocktail introduced herself and
asked, “What do you write?” My mind whirred and my cheeks burned as I blurted,
“Fundraising letters!” No sense pretending otherwise. She stayed and chatted awhile
anyway.
In the hallway, I happened upon Books & Culture Editor John Wilson, who once graciously gave me
a tour of the Christianity Today offices and took me out to lunch with
his then-colleague Doug LeBlanc. At that same meeting (it was the summer of
2011—I remember for reasons I’ll share in a minute), Mr. Wilson recommended
Frederica Mathewes-Green to me. He said he thought I’d like her work, based on
the conversation we were having about faith explorations and different facets
of the Church.
Fast-forward 11 years and I find myself searching for a speaker for
my pregnancy center fundraising dinner (for next March—I plan ahead…with some
things). Who did I book for the gig last week but Frederica Mathewes-Green,
author of Real
Choices:
Listening to Women, Looking for Alternatives to Abortion. I told Mr. Wilson about the connection; he said he was delighted. He
also assured me that I won’t be disappointed by Frederica’s visit next March; I
believe him.
The reason I
remember exactly when I met Mr. Wilson was that it was only about a month
before 9/11. Over lunch, I discussed the cover image of the upcoming issue of Roberts
Today magazine with Mr. Wilson. I wanted
a jaunty image from the women’s basketball trip to Puerto Rico, but the College
higher-ups deemed it too edgy. That debate proved moot when the day before we
went to press, 9/11 happened, and like every other media source in America, our
mock-ups and publication plans were rendered irrelevant. I also remember
checking myself onto the plane in Chicago, with very little restriction. When
the jolting events of That Day occurred so soon afterward, I thought back to
the light security of my travel and thought, “Never gonna be like that again!”
And shuddered.
FRIDAY, APRIL 20
8:30 – 9:30 a.m. “Patient Poets:
Writing and Healing” - Marilyn Chandler McEntyre
Another excellent session, in which McEntyre read us several poems
of patients with chronic pain, illness or terminal diagnoses. Talk about
stripping away pretense and conjecture, life-or-death situations sure do that.
Utterly, poignantly exquisite.
9:30 – 10:00 a.m. coffee break (blech)
10:00 – 11:00 a.m. “Grumblings,
Angry Conversations, and Sad, Sad Songs: The Art and Joy of the Lament” - Gregg
DeMey, Susan E. Isaacs, Caryn Dahlstrand Rivadeneira
A memorable psalm written by one of the panelists, Gregg DeMey.
Anytime there’s corporate singing among strangers, it’s good. Susan Isaacs skillfully
shared a comedic sketch that was actually an autobiographical lament from her
own life. Selah
11:30 a.m. – 12:30 p.m. “Lies, Whitewashes, and Cover-ups: Dealing in
Memoir with Pain and Painful People” - Daniel Taylor
Taylor is a retired professor from Bethel
College(or University?) in Minnesota. He read us some of his own stories—the
best presentations were the ones where writers read to us from their work—and
shared some memorable reflections about his mother’s disappearance into
senility and his father’s mixed legacy of charisma and infidelity.
The part of Taylor’s message that “stuck”: Be
more gracious than the ‘painful people’ in your life deserve, both for the
benefit of yourself as a writer with a soul, and for the benefit of your
readers, who will not appreciate your condemnation of another human being.
12:30 – 2:00 p.m. lunch break
2:00 – 3:00 p.m. Living Fully: A Conversation with Ann Voskamp
I have several friends who
earnestly adore Ann Voskamp’s blog, called A
Holy Experience, and now her book, One
Thousand Gifts. In fact, it was my cousin
Nina, with whom I attended the Festival in 2010, who first introduced me to
Voskamp. She thought I would love her. For reasons I couldn’t quite articulate
until I heard her speak at this Festival, I didn’t. I still don’t, although in
the spirit of Daniel Taylor I will be as gracious as possible when I tell you
the reason I didn’t/don’t care for Voskamp’s writing: She’s breathy. Her
writing voice is breathy, and so is her actual speech. I find it hard to relate
to her, maybe because I’m just a homegrown girl from A-Town who doesn’t “get”
poems and prose that ‘reaches for the sky’ (that’s the sort of phrase I think
she’d use). And the truth is I’m just a little bit cynical. Nevertheless, I
found I liked Voskamp more and more as her interview went on, mainly because,
even though she doesn’t seem like “my kind of gal,” she does seem sincere and
humble, and genuinely uncomfortable with the hoopla surrounding her persona.
When someone from the audience asked how she is coping with her newfound
Christian celebrity, Voskamp clearly appeared to be scanning the floor for a
trap door to crawl into.
3:00 – 3:30 p.m. coffee break
3:30 – 4:30 p.m. “Paying Ferocious Attention” -
Brian Doyle
I remember this guy! My Festival friend and
roomie Eileen Button had done her homework before the event, and she highly
recommended that Holly and I attend at least one of Brian Doyle’s talks. As
soon as he was introduced, I recognized him as the dynamic editor of Portland
magazine, the alumni publication of a Catholic university in that northwest
city. I had heard him speak (and was favorably impressed) in 2002 or 2003, when
I attended the Editors’ Forum for college and university publication people (of
which I was one at the time).
So engaged was I by Mr. Doyle that my notes
from this session are sparse. I remember that he said he and his friends had
discussed their future epitaphs and the best he could imagine for himself was:
Brian Doyle, “Not a Bad Dad.” His kids are important to him, which makes him a
winner in my book. But he also expressed very passionately his belief that
people, in general, are important, and that our calling as writers is to pay
attention to people’s lives and share the goodness we find in them, using
whatever tools we have as our disposal. For Brian Doyle, it is his magazine,
and I think he has written a book or three.
Mostly, Mr. Doyle reminded me of my husband
Tom, who with similar enthusiasm seeks out people’s stories—those of the
underdogs and “everyday heroes” are his favorites—and shares them for the
benefit of all who will read them. This is a good mission in life.
7:30 – 8:30 p.m. “Casting Out
Fear” - Marilynne Robinson
Ms. Robinson’s much-ballyhooed
talk disappointed me for reasons my Festival companion Holly articulated very
well in her blog.
SATURDAY, APRIL 21
8:30 – 9:30 a.m.
Took a much-needed “Skip” to
sleep in, pack up, check out of hotel and gas up vehicle for trip home (by way
of Monroe, to visit my Aunt Velma).
9:30 – 10:00 a.m. coffee break
10:00 – 11:00 a.m. “Alive in the
World: Stories of God's Revolution” - Shane Claiborne
I took the most notes for this one at Eileen’s request (since she had
to teach all day Sat and couldn’t stay for the final day). However, because
this is already very verbose, and since I am anxious to finish, and since I can
scan and email my notes to Eileen, I’ll sum up:
Shane Claiborne: Dreadlocks, righteous dude, livin’ the life—of poverty,
self-sacrifice and service, that is. Intriguing, inspiring, challenging. When
he was first getting started, Shane went to Calcutta to find out how Mother
Teresa “lived the life” and she told him (or maybe she is known widely for
saying this—I don’t know, but it stuck):
You don’t have to go to Calcutta to find Calcutta. There are
Calcuttas everywhere—find yours, and serve.
11:30 a.m. – 12:30 p.m. “Tensions of Voice and Style” - Larry Woiwode
I’ve been told various times over
the years that I have a strong voice in my writing. I kind of understand what
this means, but I thought I’d go hear an expert confirm or debunk my definition.
Mr. Woiwode called voice and style synonymous. He said that asking for advice
to develop a style is akin to asking for advice about how to develop another
frontal lobe. Your voice is an imprint of your personality on everything you do
or say. His best advice was to be ourselves when we write. He said: “You must
speak to the deepest and most reliable truth within you.” Simple, right?
12:30 – 2:00 p.m. lunch break (I shopped for souvenirs and made
arrangements to visit Aunt Velma)
2:00 – 3:00 p.m. “Surrender Your Treasures, Discover Your Story” -
Richard Jesse Watson
I went to hear Richard Jesse Watson somewhat on
a whim. I heard the voice of wisdom from the liberal arts advocates of my past
telling me to try something “different,” outside the realm of the familiar or
comfortable. Since I am no artist, attending the talk of a children’s book
illustrator seemed to suit this goal. I was rewarded richly. Mr. Watson, though
I found out he is quite famous, especially among evangelicals, spoke with
understated ease about his impressive successes. He told how he loved art too much
and therefore relinquished it for several years, until God gave it back to him,
and he reluctantly resumed, with breathtaking results. He showed us screen
after screen of his imaginative and tender illustrations, and I praised God for
this gift. (I also made a mental note to seek out RJW’s books for future
gift-giving occasions.)
3:00 – 3:30 p.m. coffee break
3:30 – 4:30 p.m. “The Beloved (Writing) Community” - Bromleigh
McCleneghan, Jennifer Moland-Kovash, Katherine Willis Pershey, Erica Schemper
This group of four clergywomen
living and ministering in Chicagoland gathers monthly to critique each other’s
writing and spur each other on to publication…or whatever goals each has for
practicing and improving her craft. I am totally jealous! Try as I might, I can’t
fathom a feasible scenario for forming such a group in…um, “Albionland”? Even
if I extend the geographical concept to include Rochester and its suburbs, the
logistics are daunting. (Heck, the logistics are daunting for me to do much of
anything outside the demands of work and family.) Nevertheless, I hold out hope
that I might be part of this kind of fellowship—someday, somehow…
Could beeeeee… Who knowwwws?...
It’s only just out of reach / Down the block / On a
beach, Under a tree.
I got a feelin’ there’s a miracle due / Gonna come
true / Comin’ to me!
(Bernstein & Sondheim, West Side
Story)
In fact, the whole Festival renewed
my sense of hope—in myself, in the communion of saints, and of course, in God,
the Giver of dreams, of creativity, of life itself.
Other fond memories to note:
- Much striding about campus—refreshing,
if a bit brisk on the day I left my jacket back at the hotel.
- Communal teeth-flossing in the
car with my Festival companions. I’m a fan of friends, and a fan of floss—fun
combo.
- Borrowing Eileen’s creaky
curling iron. It needs a new spring. Or rather, she needs a new curling iron.
She’s such a frugal flibbertigibbet (in the wonderful, whimsical sense of the
word)—I love her!
- Talking, talking, talking…and
sharing some companionable silence (I was proud of myself for not talking the whole time) with Holly, who joined me
for the journey.
- Embracing Gloria, the woman in
the sky—that is, my parents’ Garmin GPS device. This was my first time using
one as the driver on a long trip. I now see why my father says he’s “a little
bit in love with her.”
