At my writers’ salon on Monday evening I presented my latest holy card, St. Attracta, a sixth century Irish saint, who parted the waters of a nearby lake to let escaped hostages pass in safety to her convent. A very compelling image and story, and I felt my interpretation of the story was strong. But once I was done, I felt my energy change, like when a sail slumps on the mast in a sudden becalming, and I knew holy cards, volume 2 is coming to an end. I have a few more stories I need to tell, most notably St. Terese the Little Flower, but I’m being haunted now by another project, finding myself in that dreamlike state in which I see scenes played out and hear the characters’ voices. Whether this next work will be another book of poetry or, God save me, a novel, I’m not sure, but it’s pulling me in relentlessly, and I know that’s where I need to go – and soon.
I have no plans to seek publication for holy cards, volume 2, certainly not at this time anyway. Volume one hasn’t been out a year yet, and the time and the energy isn’t right for the second volume. So I’ll just close the cover with a prayer of thanks to the she-saints for sharing their stories with me, and then let it be. All things in their time.
I’m excited and nervous about the new project, and unsure as I always am at the beginning of something new whether I’m up to the task. But whether I am or not, I must try. For the attempt is the most important thing.
