There’s a lovely little line in Sentimental Value, which I saw again last weekend, and cannot wait to see again.

“Someone said praying isn’t really talking to God. It’s acknowledging despair.”

I have thought a lot about prayer recently; mostly because I think I am always, sort of, feverishly praying, in the daily ways in which I am not quite sure it is prayer as much as it is exactly that, acknowledging despair. I thought a lot about prayer while writing the new book*. I thought and wrote about the ways we pray — to ourselves, under our breath, in places of worship, when we want something.

Several months ago I wrote an essay — partly about my relationship to faith — and submitted it to an online magazine. I got a form rejection, and I would say flippantly that it was cathartic enough to write it, but I wish I had done a better job. I have another essay idea in the works on this, but that has more to do about part of my writing process. Anyway, here’s a little bit from the essay that wasn’t meant to be:

Perhaps the reality is that I do believe in God; or, I do not know how to believe in the idea that there is no higher being, because that would mean that everything I have done has been in vain, that when things happen that makes no sense or logic, that there must be something else at play. Fate. A test. Something. I am like Father Peter in Derry Girls, muttering, “proof at last, Peter, proof at last.” I continue to ask for divine intervention; feverishly praying: make this happen, don’t let my file crash, etcetera. I ask for my wishes to be forwarded to the dead, prayers as a postbox. I look at a stranger and think — there you are, God. And for a moment, I am not alone.

*It is called Untitled Novel #2 and I am hoping the title comes to me in a dream someday as being able to title projects / stories / write headlines never comes naturally to me, unless I am dehydrated and on deadline.

**It is also nowhere near publication, very, very far from it actually. I am posting and writing about it because I sort of told myself a while ago that I was going to be more open about my work and everything about this project makes me want to do that. Anyway! I’ve been doing a lot of edits on aforementioned project and I finished those up on Sunday and now I’m extremely bereft to not be reading my draft (again.) and also extremely sure I’ve left in a million broken sentences.