Archive for June, 2014

Be Someone?

Posted: June 30, 2014 in World On The Edge

file000475070896Young people are often asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Many answer with a plan to follow in the footsteps of a person who is well-known –a popular singer or musician, a sports hero, a movie star, etc. As a general rule, when we’re young we say we want to Be Someone. Many times that means Someone Famous. These are the dreams of children, but often a child’s dream doesn’t come true.

These unattained dreams are what Robert Burns refers to in this line from his poem “To a Mouse:” “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft agley.” (The best laid schemes of mice and men / Often go awry.)

We can’t control everything in our lives, or everything about who we are, much as we’d like to think so. There is no fast car to take us to our dream–no free ride. But there is also no certainty that even if we have the talent, even if we put in the work, that we will obtain our dream of notoriety. There are many singers, musicians, athletes, and actors who are as talented and hard-working, or even more talented and hard-working, that those ones who actually become famous. So why don’t those talented people ‘make it?’

Let’s consider that ‘making it’ may not the reason God gives us talents. His plan is not one of ‘Mice and Men.’ It is far more reaching and complicated than that. We are advised by scripture to use our talents, not hide them; but that doesn’t mean God is ready with a contract in hand for a movie deal, a hit recording, or a football championship. God does not give us talents for our personal notoriety, though some may attain personal fame. But our talents–those things we love to do, or feel called to do–are given to us as personal expressions and as joyful gifts for reaching out to others.

What is Joy?

Posted: June 27, 2014 in World On The Edge

images (7)“When he awakens to the world, does not man feel, in addition to the natural desire to understand and take possession of it, the desire to find within it his fulfillment and happiness?

As everyone knows, there are several degrees of this “happiness.” Its most noble expression is joy, or “happiness” in the strict sense, when man, on the level of his higher faculties, finds his peace and satisfaction in the possession of a known and loved good. Thus, man experiences joy when he finds himself in harmony with nature, and especially in the encounter, sharing and communion with other people.

All the more does he know spiritual joy or happiness when his spirit enters into possession of God, known and loved as the supreme and immutable good. Poets, artists, thinkers, but also ordinary men and women, simply disposed to a certain inner light, have been able and still are able, in the times before Christ and in our own time and among us, to experience something of the joy of God.” — Pope Francis,  Evangelii Gaudium (The Joy of the Gospel) 

“This is the true joy in life…being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one… being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.” — George Bernard Shaw

“Joy is our goal, our destiny.  We cannot know who we are except in Joy.  Not knowing Joy, we do not know ourselves.”– Marianne Williamson

“The beating heart of the universe is holy joy.” —Martin Buber

“Joy is the flag you fly when the Prince of Peace  is in residence within your heart.”– Wilfred Peterson 

“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” — Psalm 30:

untitled (2)ANDALUSIA LAUNCH of Birds of a Feather

Today, Thursday,  at Andalusia, the home place of Flannery O’Connor in Milledgeville, Georgia, I’ll be touching the pulse of my identity as an author of fiction.  For those of you who can’t make it, I’d like to share what I’ll be talking about.


My gratitude goes to to April Moon and Elizabeth Wylie of the Andalusia Foundation,  to Joshua Hren, publisher at Wiseblood Books, and also to  author Charles McNair, who’s such a integral part of this event. Finally, thank you to all who’ve come today.


When Charles and I were deciding on a name for our event at this wonderful farm, we looked for something that would correlate with Flannery O’Connor.  “Misfits, Mission, and Mercy,” seemed to be just the right thing.

So under that flag, each of us will give a talk on our perspectives and read from our works. Charles is taking on Southern Fiction, fiction in general, and magical realism in his novels. My talk concerns Catholic Fiction, Catholic Imagination, and the influence of Flannery O’Connor on my writing.

And since, in the South, it’s always “Ladies First”– I will begin.

When we read a book, we absorb the author’s story. But as readers, we absorb the author, too. Either we’re drawn to him or her, and want to read another book, or we turn away. And we often like a certain writer because we identify with them in some way.

Flannery O’Connor, as we know, was a Catholic and a Southerner. Being a Catholic Southerner, too, reading her work is like hearing a kindred spirit speaking in my head. And being an author, as well; she’s sort of a mother figure to my writing. Of course, I never met her, but she seems always to have been in the peripheries of my life.

In fact, Flannery O’Connor and my mother were born months apart in Savannah and for a time, attended the same Catholic elementary school. After reading O’Connor’s letters in Habit of Being, and the frequent accounts of conversations with her mother, Regina; I can hear the attitudes and inflections in speech, of my own mother and grandmother arguing, or gossiping, or telling a story.

Any of Flannery O’Connor’s stories can be enjoyed without knowing the depth of her Catholic faith, but when her faith is delved into, she’s just phenomenal. There’s no one else like her. I don‘t think there will ever be.

This statement by Flannery really sharpens understanding of how she identified herself as a writer:

“Many of my ardent admirers would be roundly shocked and disturbed if they realized that everything I believe is thoroughly moral, thoroughly Catholic, and that it is these beliefs that give my work its chief characteristics.”

It wasn’t always so, but today, everyone realizes that the identity of Flannery O’Connor as a writer came, not only because she was Southerner, but because she was a Catholic—-a Catholic writer with a Catholic imagination.

As for myself, like O’Connor, my perspective on life comes from my Catholic faith and my Southern roots. I know who I am as a writer, and I don’t try to be different from that. I’ve never lived, or wanted to live, anywhere but the South. And I’ve never wanted to be anything but a Catholic, despite that All the men in my family–my father, grandfather, and four uncles, were Southern and Protestant. Nearly all of those men married Southern women who were Catholics, then they, themselves, converted to Catholicism near the end of their lives. So I believe I understand–and I know I try to address—-all readers, whatever their faith, or lack of it.

A great thing about being a Southern Catholic writer is that here most all native Southerners, the greatest percent Protestant, know the Bible, can quote the Bible, and try to live by the Bible. And most of them admit they are sinners in need of being saved.  I don’t think you’ll find that anywhere else to such a degree; so for writers like me, concerned with sin and salvation, a southern setting is ripe ground for fiction.

Add to that, my grandmother’s Macon, Georgia family of nine children produced three nuns and three Jesuit priests, and that one of those cousin priests taught Theology to my husband and I when we were students at Spring Hill College in Mobile, Al., and you can see why my writing is influenced by Catholicism.

But at Spring Hill, there was another wonderful Jesuit who was not related to me. Father Robert McCown taught me Creative Writing, pushed me into writing my first one-act play, and then helped to produce it on campus. And this is especially interesting–Father Robert McCown was the younger brother of yet another Jesuit, Fr. James “Hooty” McCown, who served as Flannery O’Connor’s spiritual advisor, and to whom she wrote many letters included in The Habit of Being.

My Catholic Imagination was bolstered by every Jesuit who taught me: that God is truly present in everything we undertake in our lives. As an Art major, studying under a another talented Jesuit priest, I learned about the shadowing color Gray–not only as it appears in Art, but in life.

So this is the way I see it, and try to portray it, as a writer of Fiction who is both Southern and Catholic: In my characters–—and really, in life itself, there are always two extreme actions: Good and Evil. To ignore them in Fiction is to ignore Truth. Think of two ends of a horizontal line. At one end is the bright white of absolute Good. At the other end is the darkness of absolute Evil. In between those ends are lighter and darker hues of the color of GRAY. The farther we travel from either end, it becomes more difficult to see, or find our way back to the other.


The fact is most human beings travel daily along a line like this. They travel toward one end or the other, to the light or to the darkness. But in between the two ends is a lot of area in which to turn in an opposite direction—–either a fall, or an epiphany. This is core in Catholic Fiction—-the possibility of spiritual epiphany is always present in the work, though it may not always be accomplished by a character.


Now, the question: What is the Catholic Imagination?


   At first, for me, it had nothing to do with writing. It was an accumulation of Catholic belief instilled in my childhood that I used to decipher the world around me. I saw and acted according to that lens, believing it was the way everyone else looked at the world. Even in the Protestant South, where in the 1950’s and 60’s, Catholics stood out like sore thumbs; it took years for me to find out that not everyone saw the world the same as I did.


The Catholic imagination perceives people as good because God made them to be like Him. Except he also gave us the gift of free will. We can choose not to be like Him, and even choose not follow Him. No human being can honestly understand the magnitude of intelligence in the design of our Creator who gave us this free will, and whether we love him back or not, the Catholic Imagination contends that He loves us every second of our earthly lives, all the way into infinity. So, the desire of a Catholic writer is to translate our Creator and his goodness in some concrete form for readers; and that is a difficult job in our world today because many are certain there’s no such thing as a sole Creator, and others don’t see our world as good. So what is a Catholic writer to do? What did Flannery O’Connor do? I think she simply stuck to her guns.


There are wonderful intellectual authorities, such as Dr Bruce Gentry and Ralph Wood, who I believe serve on the board of the Andalusia Foundation, and have authored scholarly works about Flannery O’Connnor’s Catholicism. But I’m not an intellectual. I’m a writer who thinks of herself as a Heart-ellectual. Much like a Cardiac suregeon does every day—-for real–when I write I attempt to perform a surgery on my characters hearts looking for the goodness inside them, no matter how evil or diseased their actions might be. Maybe that’s what Flannery did, too.


A Catholic Imagination gives a writer like me, an identity. But that writer also finds the same identity in her characters, her readers, and with every other human being:– That we are children of God. That we are brothers and sisters. The Catholic Imagination perceives all people as good because God made them to be like Him. But as I mentioned before, writers, along with everyone else, have to also recognize free will. And because of free will, goodness within a person isn’t always outwardly practiced— in fact, often we do the opposite.

I believe a writer with a Catholic imagination will have strong emotion about current events where goodness is not: The murder of children. Debilitating disease. Sadistic, sexual perversion. Dishonesty. Meanness, and on and on—–just check ‘I choose not to follow” on each of The Ten Commandments. The question then becomes, “Can the mercy and grace of God, our Creator, be found where goodness is not?”

Well, Flannery O’Connor said that “often the nature of grace can be made plain only by describing its absence.” In other words—describing an opposite of grace. Something she did so well in her novels and short stories.  

    So, Yes. To the Catholic writer, God is powerful enough to draw out goodness from atrocities that emanate because of the misuse of human free will in real life. And this is what he or she writes about.

In the Catholic writer’s imagination, there is a link between the divinity of God (the supernatural world) with the natural world. The task of writing becomes that of interlocking the two.

Representations are created, and specific truths about God’s presence in our world appear in the writer’s mind. She translates those truths in her settings, and in her characters and their dilemmas.

And what she translates is the tenet called grace, both Sanctifying Grace and Actual Grace. Sanctifying Grace, inherited from the God who made us, lives in the soul and stays in the soul—it’s what gives us our dignity as human beings. By contrast, Actual grace doesn’t live in the soul; rather, throughout a lifetime, it acts in the soul as divine pushes from God toward His goodness—often when a character, or a person for that matter, is far from that bright white light. But those pushes must be noticed, and must require cooperation. A Catholic imagination will translate that in fiction.

The translating writer understands that a person must accept grace by his own free will; and that grace, like love, is sometimes prickly. I’m going to read a short excerpt about the prickliness of love from my first novel, A Hunger in the Heart, because it deals with the sacrifice real love must make. It’s relayed by Sarah Neal Bridgeman, the alcoholic wife of a decorated, but mentally disabled, World War II hero–and the mother of a young son, Coleman, who’s struggling with the upsets in his life. Because of her alcoholism and spitefulness, we don’t at first see the goodness in Sarah Neal. We see her as hypocrite who wears a crucifix around her neck and hangs a Cross with the suffering Jesus in every room in her house. This excerpt is when she and Coleman visit a newly-opened religious gift store in Gator Town, Florida. P.80 A Hunger in the Heart.

“Love isn’t a symbol. It’s an irritant, and it will cost you some skin.” Real life Love IS often painful. To give up some skin for it, requires Grace.

     A writer with a Catholic imagination translates grace, even in a world, or a character, on the edge of evil. She sees a double beginning and ending in everything, and I mean everything, including the awful, current events I mentioned before. Along with this, she realizes that knowing ‘reasons why’ is a human characteristic. She perceives a cause, and an effect that creates another cause, and effect, and on and on until an epiphany–or a fall–is created.


Stories are discovered in her imagination and brought to light by a very intimate flashlight, one that shines a light on the many causes and effects of free will, and on the causes and effects of grace; both working, and often conflicting, in the same human soul.


The stories in my collection, Birds of a Feather, are about the commonality each of us share as human beings: sin and its risk, and the presence of God’s mercy, waiting for us to realize it’s there, and then—-act with it.


It’s my opinion that this common identity is key to the Catholic Writer and his or her imagination.


Here’s what Flannery O’connor says about Identity, from Mystery and Manners:

An Identity is not to be found on the surface; it is not accessible to the poll taker; it is not something that can become a cliché. It is not made from the mean average or from the typical, but from the hidden and often the most extreme. It is not made from what passes, but from those qualities that endure regardless of what passes, because they are related to the truth. It lies very deep. In its entirety, it is known only to God; but of those who look for it, none gets so close as the artist.”


So, As a Southern writer—-my identity is wrapped in the wonderfully changeable, material world around me–the world I live in. But as a Catholic writer—my identity is also wrapped in the mystery of mercy and grace in the immaterial world that lies deeply behind this one—-because that is the world that is unchangeable and enduring.


My short story collection, Birds of a Feather, published by Wiseblood Books, will be out July 14, but I was sent some advance review copies for today.

I’m going to read a story, called, “Jimmy’s cat.” It’s tone is definitely different from the other gritty stories in the collection. But I chose it because it speaks in a more humorous way, to what happens when a person lets Go of His or her Indentity.–And also, it’s the shortest story in the book.

p.165 “Jimmy’s Cat”

Passing it Down?

Posted: June 25, 2014 in World On The Edge


On my kitchen counter is a stone bowl on a stem–a fruit and vegetable compote that once belonged to my mother, and her mother before her. In it, I keep bananas and tomatoes, same as my mother did.

Some of the tomatoes are still green when I put them in the bowl, but that’s okay because the bananas have a way of ripening them. My mother likened it to friendship and love. “One ripens first and then helps the other along.”


And like her, I cannot waste the uneaten bananas. I simply cannot bring myself to discard a banana only because it’s past its prime for peeling and eating. I have to make something else out of it. Banana nut bread, muffins, cake—something!

Naturally, my children always liked this family quirk, when an aging fruit they might have discarded is changed into something fresh, new–and edible. (more…)

Do You Flit?

Posted: June 24, 2014 in World On The Edge

file000429279301Are you an ant, or a butterfly?

Are you self-motivated enough to finish what you start? Or do you flit from one thing to another?

Sometimes we have a great plan, with great goals and values. But when the plan doesn’t achieve immediate success, we jump quickly into something else.

We flit, like a butterfly, dipping from flower to flower. Maybe we do this out of fear of failure, or financial pressure, or some other distraction–but we do it. And we do it too frequently.

Butterflies are beautiful, but in their days as a caterpillar they can eat through a garden. You’ve heard of The Hungry Caterpillar?

The tiny ant can teach us self-motivation. Ants get organized. They stay focused. They see their plan through to a completed anthill. (Unless someone comes with ant-killer!) And in the end, working together, they have created something good—not only for themselves, but for their cohorts.

So, I’m going to stay a little bit longer with what I’m doing. I’m going to ignore the beauty of the butterfly and concentrate on the ant. I’m not going to fold up my chair and leave the hall. I might miss the music of something really grand. I’m going to stay with it, and stay alive!

Begin Again?

Posted: June 23, 2014 in World On The Edge

file6871272320510Isn’t it odd that in many things, we can be doggedly determined, and other things we put off, and put off, and put off?

Sometimes I’m a number one procrastinator.  I begin most every Monday with a plan for all the things I need to do better. By Tuesday, I’m waning, and by Wednesday, it’s all but forgotten–until Monday when I begin again.

But what if there were no such thing as new beginnings? That would mean the absence of Hope–something no one can live without.

If we don’t have hope, we literally shrivel emotionally and physically. We  need to believe that things get better. New beginnings, even Mondays, can be sources of hope.

Where does hope come from?   Many times it comes through prayer.    Jesus would not have told us to pray The Lord’s Prayer unless He knew our Father in Heaven would hear our prayers.

And the ability to hope is within us. We are born with it,  part of  being made in the image and likeness of God.

So today, on Monday. I plan to do some things better.  Maybe this time I’ll be successful. But if I’m not, I won’t get discouraged because there’s another Monday coming.  And I have hope.

Love and Time

Posted: June 20, 2014 in World On The Edge

Social media logosOur world today is busy with a certain concern  we might call  an interest in others. We spend hours on social networking, television, or movies. We sit in front of–or hold and finger–devices that feed our desire to know what others are doing.  And often we do this while someone we would surely  say we love more, is trying to get our attention. Do we give it? Or put them off?

The amount of time we spend with certain people says the most about how much we actually care about them. Quantity matters, especially to children, but also to a spouse.

What is the greatest gift a child wants from his parent?

What is the greatest gift a spouse wants from his wife, or her husband?

What is the greatest gift we can give a good friend?

Did you think I was going to say LOVE?

Well, in my opinion, the answer to all three questions is TIME.

When our time is called for, we may not want to cooperate. We may want to continue with what we are doing. Yet when we give away something so valuable to our child, spouse, or friend, we are giving them love in its purest form–love that involves sacrifice because time is one of the most valuable things in our lives.

The following is a great Josh Turner song, performed by a talented young man with a similar voice.

One Week From Today…..

Posted: June 19, 2014 in World On The Edge

One week from today we’ll be at Andalusia Farm, the old home place of Flannery O’Connor in Milledgeville, Georgia. And here is your invitation.


   MISFITS, MISSION, AND MERCY  In Southern Fiction

                    Presented by The Flannery O’Connor-Andalusia Foundation, Inc.

    And Wiseblood Books 

                    Featuring Authors Kaye Park Hinckley and Charles McNair

              June 26, 2014 – Andalusia Farm, Milledgeville, Georgia

10 am – Noon

In the past few years Kaye Park Hinckley has emerged as a major talent in what Paul Elie calls “the literature of belief.” Hinckley translates grace in a world on edge, sees a double beginning and ending in everything, literally everything, including the unspeakably awful. Like her novel A Hunger in the Heart, the stories in Birds of a Feather—several of which have won substantive awards—take us to the heart of the matter.

Charles McNair released his first novel, Land O’ Goshen, to critical acclaim. Land O’ Goshen was a nominee for the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1994. His recent novel, Pickett’s Charge,reflects McNair’s incredible talent as a creative story teller, as well as an observer of and commentator on the human condition.

Both writers will give a brief talk on their perspectives and read from their works: Hinckley on Catholic Fiction, Catholic Imagination, and the influence of Flannery O’Connor on her writing, and McNair on southern fiction, fiction in general, and magical realism in his novels.

Afterwards, a tour of Andalusia Farm will be offered by the Foundation, with a suggested donation per person of five dollars.

Below is an actual recording of Flannery O’Connor reading “A Good Man is Hard to Find.”



Need a Fix?

Posted: June 18, 2014 in World On The Edge

computer-repairsCertain people are natural fixers—people who can fix anything, a broken drawer, a leaky radiator, a downed computer. Anything.  Except themselves.

These are people who sense nothing wrong with themselves,  until  catastrophe shakes their lives and they’re knocked to their knees. They look up and wonder what happened. They look for the screwdriver, or the hammer and nails.  But the situation they’re  in can’t be fixed with those sorts of tools.

These are the people who  have lost a child, or a spouse, or a parent. These are the people who  have been fired from a job, or  told they have cancer or some other disease. These are the people who go to fight wars and lose legs and arms, and more. These are the people who must care for someone with dementia, or have it themselves. These are the people with every sort of addiction they can’t get rid of.

These are the people who think one lie won’t matter–they’ll never get caught. These are the  people who  salivate over someone else’s good fortune to the point of  jealously that spins out of control.  These are the people who con others out of what is rightfully theirs. These are the people who cheat, murder, sell drugs to children for money to buy a pair of expensive shoes. These are the people with vendettas against those who have hurt them.  These are the people who kill, or abuse their own children, or terrifically wound them with poisonous words and language.  These are the people in fat positions who climb up the ladder on the slender backs of others.

These are the people. And those people are us.

We are, all of us, imperfect people in an imperfect world.  Our individual vices abound.  But also, within each of us there are virtues. The virtues of faith and hope and love. These are the spiritual tools we have been given by our Creator.

Can we use them to become different? Can we change?  Can we be fixed?

Absolutely. Ask for it.


file000445454367Life jackets  come in all different shapes, sizes and colors. They are made to fit both adults and children. The main purpose of a lifejacket it to keep a person’s head above the water. They are designed to help us stay afloat even when unconscious. A life jacket is supposed to protect us.

Sometimes we think of another person as our life jacket: our spouse, our parents, our friends.. We’re not Supermen or Superwomen.   We need others. We need to be able to trust others. Husbands need to be able to trust their wives, and wives their husbands. And children surely need to be able to trust that their parents will protect them.

But in some circumstances,  the very ones we look to for protection are the ones who betray us. Rather than holding our heads above water, or helping us float when we need it, those so-called ‘life jackets’ leave the pool. They leave us alone to fend for ourselves.

So what do we do when we’re in deep water, and our life jacket unstraps itself and skitters away?

For a child, still unable to swim, it’s catastrophe. A child will cry for help, “Save me!”

If  we are a  husband or wife who has been betrayed, or if a close friend has left us in a less than safe position,  we might still say, “Come back. Save me.” But we are not children.

“Save me” is not a sensible,  adult response, to the one who’s left us in a lurch. Neither is, “I’ll get you back if it’s the last thing I do!”

The adult response is  not to whine, not to seek revenge, but to bolster ourselves by recognizing that we are created for dignity by God. Lean on Him. Listen to His words. He will teach us how to swim on our own.

Because this is what we must sometimes do–be on our own. Life is difficult. People are not always going to be there for us.

But God will always be there for us.  Call out to Him.