My dabbling in Substack began on the back of a promise and a challenge:
The promise: Here I’d feel free—maybe even empowered—to experiment in my writing, to craft the spiritual essays I write elsewhere but other things, too: quasi-poems and glimpses of fiction and other pieces of prose that are less easily categorized. I wouldn’t need to tie these pieces of writing up with a “God-bow”—some neat and tidy spiritual lesson—but could instead let God, who is always in action, never finished with us or our work, point beyond the page rather than to its conclusion.
The challenge: I’d have another accountability mechanism, another peg in the board of routine. I think it was Seth Godin who said something to the effect of, the key difference between making a writing commitment and just hoping writing appears is the shift in framing the night before: The question goes from Will I write tomorrow? to What will I write about? I find that second question—and the demand it places on my mind and my time—helpful.
There is a third peg to my Substack stool, of course, and you might be able to guess what it is: Oh, Eric, you’re a writer? You must have a Substack! You have to grow an audience! You have to sell your books! You have to play the algorithms! This peg is my least favorite.
The name “Story Scraps” was intentionally vague because of the aforementioned promise and challenge. If I wanted to be experimental, limiting myself to a single theme or topic felt counterproductive. And if I was really going to stick to a schedule(ish), then I needed to avoid allowing the well to run dry—which meant filling it with all manner of things.
So, each week, usually on Friday, I look over what I’ve done, where I’ve been, what I’ve been praying about, what’s been on my mind, and I gather up those scraps and try to assemble them into a narrative that is useful.
There are times when I’m successful and there are times when I stumble. There are times when the limitless horizon of writing anything overwhelms me, and I settle back into compositions of comfort. There are times when the toll of the weekly deadline rings too soon, and I find myself shipping out half-baked ideas or stories that aren’t yet ready for primetime.
The thing about the promise and the challenge (and especially the third peg—let’s call it the rationale) is that they’re pretty Eric-centric. I got to write whatever I feel like; I get to benefit from a renewed writing practice. (And hopefully, I get to sell some books and meet some like-minded folks and share my writing.)
But here’s the thing: This doesn’t work if you don’t keep reading. If you don’t want to review whatever I’ve cooked up each week. If it’s not resonating with you and your life. I can make educated guesses based off of Substack stats, but I know just as well as you do that just because you’ve opened an email doesn’t mean you’ve read the piece—let alone enjoyed it.
So, here’s my question—and invitation, really: What kind of writing would be helpful to you? What would you like to see more of? What doesn’t quite hit the mark? Do you have a challenge for me? Something I should be writing and thinking about more? Or, are you happy to let this project unfold in the same old way?
For reference, here are some of the things I write here:
Essays on spirituality and storytelling, like this one on Advent and fortune cookies.
Reflections at the intersection of spirituality and pop culture, like this one on Star Wars and Ignatian spirituality.
Thoughts on the writing life, like this one on some unpleasant feedback I received.
Prayer-poem…things, like this one on warm beer.
Pieces that don’t quite fall into a category, like this one on praying a fairy tale.
And longer series that pursue a theme, like the Ignatian Myth & Narrative project.
What resonates with you? What do you want more of? Less? Would you like something totally different? I’d really love to hear your thoughts and reflections.
In the meantime, my writing life will continue in the new year. I’ll keep writing my weekly column, “Now Discern This,” for the Jesuit Conference of Canada and the United States; I’ll keep offering a monthly contribution to IgnatianSpirituality.com. Other essays and stories will hopefully pop up elsewhere, too.
I’ll keep promoting my published books—have I told you about My Life with the Jedi: The Spirituality of Star Wars?—and prepare to hit the trail for my upcoming book Finding Peace Here and Now: How Ignatian Spirituality Leads to Healing and Wholeness, due out in May. I have a co-authored children’s book on the horizon (more soon), as well as a fourth adult spirituality book in the works that I’ll share more about in the fullness of time.
Oh—and I’m making good progress on what I’m calling a middle grade speculative fiction novel.
So, thanks for being here. Thanks for reading. Thanks for sharing your thoughts.
Essays on spirituality, intersection of spirituality and culture, musings about the writing life and longer pieces are the principle categories of your writing that I enjoy. I find you thoughtful and positive and genuine and am truly grateful for your Story Scraps pieces—I always walk away with something to ponder in greater depth.
Obviously I’m a fan of everything you do in this newsletter, but I especially appreciate the fiction and would love to read more! In fact, as a challenge: it would be cool to see some serialized fiction (even a very short series). That’s definitely more work, but could be fun (to write and to read)!