On this day in 1863, President Abraham Lincoln delivers the Gettysburg Address at a ceremony dedicating the military cemetery at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.
“In order to write about life first you must live it.”
– Ernest Hemingway
Let’s not fool anyone. I am neither going to live the life Hemingway lived nor am I going to have the level of success he had as an author.
That’s not self doubt. That’s reality.
But, while I’ve never driven an ambulance in Italy covered the Spanish Civil War or lived in Key West, I’ve had my share of life experiences.
No, I am not writing an autobiography.
But I am writing a novel that includes memories, places, events, and even people from my life. Sponsor my first printing and you may just get a chapter of your own.
Not to return to the themes of last week but, for the record, I have suffered enough for my art. Thank you very much.
That is not to say that life from here on out is going to be all beer and skittles.
(all) beer and skittles
all fun and pleasure; easy and pleasant.
(Skittles is the game of ninepins, a game similar to bowling. Fixed phrase.
For Sam, college was beer and skittles. He wasted a lot of time and money.
The Free Dictionary
What that means is that I’ve got enough life experiences from which to draw. I won’t cease to acquire more, but I can work with what I’ve got.
Speaking of life not being all beer and skittles, last night I saw Hedwig and the Angry Inch at TheatreLAB’s new basement venue. It was amazing. Matt Shofner gave an incredible performance ably assisted by Bianca Bryan, an awesome band and near perfect technical and artistic support.
Hedwig is not family friendly theatre. But the show is gut-wrenchingly real.
I suspect that some of my fellow believers would be turned off by the subject matter and the music. I can respect that. Some shows are too edgy for me. I had many friends love Book of Mormon, but I chose not to see it because some of the humor went just a little too far for me.
We all have to draw that line somewhere.
But the way I see it, Jesus came because we’re all misfits. We all need grace.
My struggles are different than those of Hedwig, or the Mormon missionaries or the crack addict down the street.
That doesn’t make me special. That makes me someone who is also in need of lots of grace.
I should write about that.
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