Before I get into some wild Godwinks and coincidences and the wondrous nature of opening yourself up to the mesmerizing entanglement that weaves us all together, allow me to mention an essay I’ve just published on outlining a novel.
Never before have I had my arse kicked by a piece like this one. I can’t believe how much it took out of me, weeks of pondering and re-working, and I’m super proud of how it turned out. It’s not just for you writers; it’s for anyone who wants a look behind the curtain. And there may be mention of a new Red Mountain novel!
You can read/listen to it on Substack, or find the 53-minute audio version via my Drowning in Words podcast on Apple or Spotify.
Okay, we all know what Godwinks are, right? They’re the tiny miracles occurring all around us—should we choose to take notice, those whispers from the mystic that assure us that we’re not alone. Allow me to share how the following collection of art tied together for me this morning as breathtaking evidence of a grand design. I feel touched by the divine and hoping I can pass it along.
Books.
I’m not quite done talking about The Dog Stars by Peter Heller. May I share one of the many passages that knocked me to my knees. Here goes…
I stood in the shade of the tree in the cool breath of the moving water and let the sound, the light breeze blow through me. I was a shell. Empty. Put me to your ear and you would hear the distant rush of a ghost ocean. Just nothing. The slightest pressure of current or tide could push and roll me. I would wash up. Here on this bank, dry out and bleach and the wind would scour and roughen me, strip away the thinnest layers until I was brittle and the thickness of paper. Until I crumbled into sand. That’s how I felt. I’d say it was a relief to have at last nothing, nothing, but I was too hollow to register relief, too empty to carry it.
I really didn’t give a shit what this old bastard did to me. Nothing to lose is so empty, so light, that the sand you crumble to at last blows away in a gust, so insubstantial it’s carried upwards to shirr into the sandstorm of the stars. That’s where we all get to. The rest is just wearing thin waiting for wind.
C’mon! That is fire, folks. That is why I read.
I came away from this novel feeling so grateful for what I have, as it’s such a reminder that it can all go away in a moment.
We must not take for granted the little things: a long meal with loved ones, the choice of take-out options, the comfort of a good bed, the touch of your lover—even the slightest one—or the little sounds they make, the funny nuances of their routine, the access to all the art you could ever consume, the chance to say “I’m sorry” or “I love you” or to start again, a lick on the face by a dog who loves you unconditionally, the brush of your cat as she weaves ‘round your legs, a goodbye kiss from your child as he rushes out the door to go find his place in the world, mail delivered to your door, your mother and father and brother a video call away, the way the warm morning sun cuts through the window as you sip coffee just the way you like it, the way a patch of grass, a good book, and a bit of shade on a hot day is all you ever need.
Film.
Check out the movie trailer to The Dog Stars. Or maybe wait until you’ve read it first. I don’t know that Ridley Scott can do wrong. It’s gonna be a scorcher of a film. And that cast: Jacob Elordi, Josh Brolin, and Margaret Qualley!
Here come the Godwinks.
Music.
I mentioned one of my fave bands, Bleachers, had a new album coming out. It’s here, and it’s marvelous. I only just learned in preparing to share with you today that Jack Antenoff, the muscle behind Bleachers, is married to Margaret Qualley, who is the aforementioned star of The Dog Stars. How about them apples?
Not only that, she’s the daughter of Andie MacDowell (Groundhog Day), who you know and who just so happens to have been born right down the road from where I grew up in South Carolina. God winks for days!!! Don’t you just love when you plug into the dazzling interconnected web of creative wonder?
Can I throw a cherry on top? Here’s one of the marvelous tunes from the new album. Notice the banjo? I just did as I pulled up the video. You might know my first gig was playing banjo in Nashville. I can’t stand it, guys. All I want to be is wrapped up in this holy web.
Let’s leave it there, right? I’m six weeks from deadline and stoked to bring Salvation Isle to you next year. I know, that seems like a long time. At least The English Bookstore in Bologna is coming in hot, only two months away!
Much love,
boo
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