Peculiar Crossroads Podcast

A special Easter post, where I reflect on the lasting effects of bad doctrine and the joy of being rewarded by Christ. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

It's been a year since Why I Dyed My Hair Purple came out...and the year didn't go the way I planned. Here, I share thoughts about God's sovereignty, loving discipline, and the knowledge that He always tells a better story than the ones we tell ourselves. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

I was a Wicked fan before it was cool. Here, I share my memories, connections to my Christian faith, and how the story left me changed for good. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

We are back for our first episode since June. In this installment, I share my thoughts on Springsteen: Delivery Me from Nowhere, talk about my love of the album Nebraska, and discuss the role creative writing can play in healing from trauma. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

After a month away, I returned to Substack last week, and the response was deeply humbling. So many of you said you missed my words. That means more than I can say.But the truth is, I’m still not quite back. April brought a back injury, emotional weight, and some unfolding circumstances that are asking a lot of me.So, I’m pressing pause. Just for a little while. I'll still be around—you just won't be hearing from me as regularly.I wrote about what’s been going on, what God’s been teaching me, and where you can keep in touch while you're waiting.Thank you for caring. Thank you for reading. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

“Well. I’m back.”After an unexpected (and painful) pause, I’m easing back into writing—with help from The Sound of Music, couch-bound memories, and a reminder that beauty and hope can coexist with affliction.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀This week’s Substack isn’t about my injury. It’s about Maria, marionettes, and the strange comfort of a movie that faces down darkness with joy. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

When I was 13, I had a crush on a boy who liked country music. Predictably, the crush was fleeting . . . but the love of the music was not.In this new installment of Why I Dyed My Hair Purple: B-Sides, I share an essay about teenage love, generational trauma, & how music can be the bridge between our most painful moments & our deepest personal connections.Read or listen on Substack now. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

This month has been hard. Nothing catastrophic. Just . . . a lot. Work. Stress. Health. Life.But here’s what I’m learning from God’s Word: You don’t have to feel ready to show up. You just have to show up.In my latest Substack post, I talk about the tension between needing rest and needing to take responsibility, between being overwhelmed and being faithful in the small things. Between waiting to feel better—and choosing to do the next thing anyway.Whether you're overwhelmed, tired, creatively blocked, or just dragging your feet on that one hard thing, I hope this post meets you there. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

What if the most powerful stories you carry aren’t meant to be written—at least not yet?In this reflective Substack post, I share thoughts on the 2024 total solar eclipse and how it became more than just a natural wonder—it became a sacred encounter with the majesty of God. From there, I explore why some experiences defy immediate articulation and how rushing to write can short-circuit their deeper spiritual work. Drawing on insights from a recent writer’s retreat with The Habit and wisdom from voices like Annie Dillard, I unpack the value of waiting, the holiness of mystery, and why sometimes the most faithful thing a writer can do is simply be still.Read or listen now. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

I’ve always been a writer. But I’ve never been only a writer.Creativity and practicality have shared a desk in my life for as long as I can remember.When I made my initial visit to Ohio Northern University, where I went to college, I met the head of the English department. We sat at the long desk in his office, the same one I’d sit at four years later as I discussed graduation requirements with the faculty member who replaced him when he retired. I told him I aspired to major in creative writing and be a novelist.He raised his eyebrows but still displayed a kindly expression behind his glasses. That was a fine goal, he told me. However, one of ONU’s values was career preparation, and the department was obliged to help students augment artistic ambitions with something, well . . . marketable.That was how I ended up with a professional writing major too.I wasn’t interested in doing this at first. Being a blogger or working in desktop publishing (this was 2003, and social media and internet marketing barely existed) was a distraction from the real work I wanted to do.Fortunately, this changed. I liked the professional writing classes so much that I took all of them, not just my degree requirements.Of course, I was still writing fiction. But I was also writing rhetorical analyses of media, learning about editing and publishing, and serving as the editor of the university web magazine.After graduation, I went straight into my Master of Fine Arts program in creative writing. For three years, I would devote hours to improving my craft, attend workshops led by award-winning authors, and build relationships as I critiqued and received feedback on my colleagues’ work.Oh, wait. There was one other thing too.I had to teach classes.There was a catch, you see. To afford my MFA, I had to take on an assistantship.It was like living a double life. Three mornings a week, I showed up on campus in a pantsuit with a briefcase and lesson plans, ready to show freshman composition students no mercy. (I also wore ties on occasion.)Then, I’d be back on campus two or three evenings for my own classes. If I was lucky, I got to go home and change my clothes. One time, one of my students saw me in the wild wearing jeans and a hoodie as I waited in the hall for my workshop to start. He approached me in astonishment.“Ms. Frazier?!” he said with quiet awe.“Yep. It’s me,” I said. “I’m a student, too, you know.”There are many other examples of times when being a writer has required me to wear additional hats. I spent three years in marketing, multiple years as a content creator for various educational publications, and additional stints in academia.Now, though, I deal with a different kind of dual role.If you’ve been hanging around here awhile or following me elsewhere, you know that my dream of college came true. I’m the author of two books—a novel, The Goodbye-Love Generation (which started its life as my MFA thesis), and an essay collection, Why I Dyed My Hair Purple and Other Unorthodox Stories, which debuted in January.But guess what? When you publish a book, it doesn’t mean you’ve arrived. It isn’t your ticket to creating all day long without interruptions.You still have to be a writer and other things.At this point, you’re probably like, “Well, duh, of course.” But you’d be surprised at how many people don’t understand that.I know this because my other role is that of an entrepreneur who works with authors.I talk primarily about my writing on this account, so you might not know I run a business called Inkling Creative Strategies (yes, it’s named for those Inklings). My mission is to help writers reach their full creative potential so they can impact and inspire readers.I do this through a variety of services for writers, from coaching to developmental critiques of manuscripts to line editing and proofreading. As a bonus, I typeset books for independent authors and have helped upwards of nine or ten people get their books out in the world.Inkling was founded after a period of profound seeking of God during that illustrious year of 2020. I realized that all those skills I’d amassed since college—content creation, marketing, teaching, etc—could be combined with my creative writing talents to serve a specific population of creative people.Since then, there has been incredible fruit. It’s a privilege to have aspiring authors at all stages of their development trust me with their work and collaborate with them to make beautiful stories.My company has also grown exponentially. In 2024, I turned a profit for the first time. It wasn’t much, but it was a milestone nonetheless.And, in the middle of all this, I’m still doing my own writing.It often feels pretty similar to graduate school, especially when I have a full client load like I do this month. I have client meetings on Zoom and meet mentees for coffee. I read and comment on people’s writing. I juggle a lot of stuff, including whatever I am creating myself, and in the middle of all that, I’m marketing my writing and my business, often at the same time.People ask me how I’m able to do this. I don’t have a good answer to that question. I just do it.They also ask me how I’m able to self-promote in a way that is honest and not icky or soul-sucking. I had a really good mentor at an agency where I used to work who taught me how to make content that sounded natural and honest. But in the end, I just do that too.Being strategic with your professional life isn’t bad. It’s necessary.When I was in college, I was obsessed with the musical Rent. It’s about artists in the East Village in the mid-‘90s who are dealing with poverty and the AIDS crisis. At one point in the show, Mark, an aspiring filmmaker, decides to take a job with a pulp TV news channel.He’s desperate for money and is also struggling with an assortment of other problems, including the death of a close friend from AIDS and the worsening illness of another. (If you know the show, you’ve probably got “Your Eyes” running through your head and are crying, and I’m genuinely sorry about that.)Fortunately, though, Mark comes to his senses. He sings “What You Own,” my favorite song from the show, and in the middle of it, he calls up his boss and quits.I used to think Mark was being heroic. In a sense, he is—after all, I’d hope any of you would quit a job that was a poor use of your vocation.But one problem I have with Rent now is that it subtly sends a message that having multiple spheres of your artistic life means you aren’t as committed to your art form or are somehow “selling out.”Unless you’re Stephen King, you will always have to negotiate your creative art with other things for the sake of practicality. But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.Sometimes I think about what my life would be like if I just wrote all the time. Honestly, I don’t think I’d like it very much. I’d get pretty tired of staring at a computer screen and of the sound of my voice in my head.The work I do isn’t always easy, but it’s a gift. I think the sooner we see the other roles we play when we aren’t artistic in that manner, the better we will be in all aspects of our lives.Want to learn more about Inkling Creative Strategies (since I’ve mentioned it here)? I happen to offer a FREE workbook for writers called The Ultimate Writing Project Workbook.It contains a ton of prompts, tools, writing tips, and exercises for you to plan out and develop your existing work in progress or start something new.You’ll also receive more information about how Inkling works and how to get a bonus consultation about our services.Grab one here.Also, feel free to comment below with your thoughts on living strategically in multiple spheres. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

Is it just me...or were YA books from the '80s and '90s super dark? 😱Like, there was a high body count. Lots of ghosts and supernatural stuff. Many situations of peril.This week, I'm sharing with you a few of my favorite weird '90s book titles. You just might find yourself on the darkest end of memory lane, or with some new recommendations.Read or listen now. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

Today is the 100th birthday of my favorite author, Flannery O'Connor. 🦚🎂In honor of this momentous occasion, this month's installment of Why I Dyed My Hair Purple: B-Sides features an essay about Flannery that didn't make it into the final book.Flannery and I had similar life-altering experiences at the same points in our lives, and in this essay, I imagine going through these turning points along side her.I fully admit that it takes a LOT of liberties, and I expected that I'd be asked to cut it. The essay about Flannery that is in the final book is a lot more unified, while this one is kind of a mess.Yet, I feel like today is the perfect occasion for me to share it. Read or listen here. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

A couple of years ago, my husband and I started attending a new church, and one of the biggest changes we encountered was how worship was conducted. No projection screens. No elaborate musical arrangements. Just voices raised together, singing from hymnals, word for word.At first, it seemed like a small difference. But over time, I realized something: when you sing an entire hymn, you’re not just singing—you’re telling a story. As a writer, this realization was powerful. Hymns aren’t just expressions of worship; they’re narratives rich with truth and meaning. And in a world saturated with screens, holding a hymnal in my hands has become a sacred, set-apart experience.I’ve written about this in my latest Substack post, exploring the beauty of hymns as storytelling and how they’ve deepened my appreciation for both faith and art. Plus, I share one of my favorite hymns that captures this beautifully.Read or listen now! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

I spent last weekend at the Square Halo conference in Lancaster and tried a bunch of really cool, new stuff. Learn about my experiences with songwriting, pottery, letting go of traumatic elementary school experiences, and the benefits of stepping outside your artistic box. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

Confession time: I didn't always like Lord of the Rings.This is a dangerous admission given that I run around in a lot of circles where the books are revered.Yet, today, I count them among my favorite stories.What changed? I'm honestly not sure...but on this week's Substack, I'll share my story and explore some ways that our relationship with books can change over time.Maybe we can have a discussion and you can help me figure it out. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

Welcome to the inaugural installment of Why I Dyed My Hair Purple: B-Sides, where I share outtakes from my essay collection, Why I Dyed My Hair Purple and Other Unorthodox Stories!This piece explores my somewhat off-brand fascination for monster truck races, how it all got started, and why experiencing the passions of other people just might have rewards waiting for you. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

People are often surprised to learn that Metallica is one of my favorite bands.It's true that I'm not a huge metal fan, but their melodic approach to the genre and thought-provoking lyrics fascinate me.In my newest Substack, I talk about their often-misunderstood 1996 album Load.Specifically, I explore my favorite track, "Hero of the Day," in the context of my experiences struggling with mental health issues in the church and how the song sheds light on the dereliction of duty in our marriages, families, and spiritual communities, as well as our culture's fascinating with hero worship and idolatry. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

This week, I reflect on my time at the Rabbit Room’s North Wind Manor during the winter edition of The Habit Membership writer's retreat. As I celebrate the release of Why I Dyed My Hair Purple and Other Unorthodox Stories, I’m struck by the passage of time—not just in my own creative journey but in the growth of my community. Five years have passed since I joined The Habit, and in that time, I’ve found a creative family, gained deeper insight into my vocation, and witnessed remarkable growth in the talents of my fellow writers. Join me as I share the joy of these reflections and celebrate the gift of community and creativity. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

This week on my Substack, I’m reflecting on something unexpected.Several people from my church family have now read Why I Dyed My Hair Purple—and their feedback has been overwhelmingly positive.I wasn’t expecting harsh criticism, but given my past experiences with religious people judging my art, I couldn’t help feeling a little anxious.Their comments, however, revealed something I never intended: this book is about more than I thought.Join me as I explore what it means to relate to the person I was before Christ, the role of evangelism, and how our writing has the power to change people. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

Sharing your work with readers is a big reason why writers do what we do......but it can also be one of the most agonizing and anxiety-provoking parts of the process.This week, I talk about how I've processed this reality during my first week of Why I Dyed My Hair Purple's release and offer a creative liturgy as a response. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

Celebrate the release of Why I Dyed My Hair Purple with a lesson on writing, some artifacts from the Purple Hair Era, and some thoughts on this book entering the world. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

The number of people I know who have been through spiritual trauma of some kind is staggering.From false teachers to bad doctrine to corrupt leadership, there is no shortage of reasons for this.I've been through this, too, but it's become a powerful part of my testimony and a crucial thread in my book, Why I Dyed My Hair Purple and Other Unorthodox Stories, which debuts next week.This week, I want to share some wisdom I've gained through God's Word, tell you a little about the journey I've been on in the last several years, and share some principles that helped me sensitively and biblically addressed this topic in my writing.Read or listen here. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

While my new book is a collection of essays, I didn't always want to write nonfiction. Discover how I changed my mind, as well as how writing essays mirrors the biblical process of repentance. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

My thoughts on Behold the Lamb of God, creative community, and how all of this relates to my forthcoming book launch. Plus: learn about how to join the launch team! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

Introducing Why I Dyed My Hair Purple & Other Unorthodox Stories, my essay collection about art, faith, and being a misfit while belonging to Christ, coming January 21, 2025, from Calla Press Publishing. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

That Thing You Do is a favorite of '90s kids like me and has become a cult classic in the last 25 years. But the movie also has a surprising lesson to teach about stewardship and the wisdom we must exercise in using the gifts God has granted us.Read or listen to my analysis here. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

How the Harry Potter movies convicted me of the hurtful way I treated people years ago and revealed an important truth about how we show love and empathy toward each other in the church. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

I love Makoto Fujimura, but as I've studied unity in the church more, the concept of border walkers he discusses in Culture Care feels discordant for me. In this post, I talk about the weird place of not feeling like you fully belong and how Christ's desire for unity among His Bride opposites this feeling. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

That time at church when a scene from The Spy Who Shagged Me became really relatable. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

Learn about my lifelong history with the theatre and the joy of watching a play. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

Here, I talk about the act of listening to music, memories of taping songs off the radio, and what we have lost by streaming our favorite songs. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

Learn how a classic movie gave hope to a troubled teenager and paved the way to understand the hope of Christ. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

Last week, I discussed Flannery O’Connor and what her dark, dissonant, and yet hopeful stories mean to me as an author and a believer.However, although her writing is intensely disturbing, it’s not entirely unexpected for Christian writers to be influenced by her. I’ve met many believers with similar journeys to mine who also see her as significant to their faith.Beyond Flannery, though, my list of books that have inspired me as a writer gets a little weird.Okay, maybe a lot weird.I know this isn’t exactly shocking, but I devoured books when I was a kid. And if you grew up in the ‘80s and ‘90s, you probably read the same ones I did. The Boxcar Children. Anne of Green Gables. Hatchet. The Babysitter’s Club. A Little Princess.I loved to read, and I also loved to tell stories, put on plays, and act out epic tales with Barbies and toy dinosaurs. It was all a lot of fun. But it never occurred to me that stories could do more than just entertain or that there was more than one way to tell them.   That all changed when I started eighth grade.One day, I went to the bookstore in my hometown of Kent, Ohio, and found a copy of Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. The cover featured a black-and-white photo of a girl shot from the knees down, the hemline of her dress just visible. She wore saddle shoes, and one knee was slightly popped forward in a kind of attitudinal posture.Based on that cover, I knew I had to read that book. I had a thing for the 1950s, so maybe it was the saddle shoes. The back cover mainly included notes from scholars declaring it to be one of the great novels and barely a sentence about the plot, so the—ahem—content of the book didn’t really register.Regardless, I had a gift certificate for the bookstore, and it was on sale, so I bought the book, unaware that I was walking into the landmine that is one of the most controversial books of the last century.  When I got home, I went to my room and started the book. As I began to read Nabokov’s intricate sentences and often sprawling prose, the reality of what I was reading sank in.I was fourteen, so I thought the overall situation was gross. Or, as the kids today like to say, super cringe.Yet, I was compelled to keep reading.As the story unfolded, I periodically asked myself why I was so interested in it. I felt sorry for the characters, but I didn’t like them. In most of the books I’d read to that point, the lines between the good guys and bad guys were clearly drawn. I never had to question the characters’ motives, and the endings were always happy with some clearly-conveyed lesson or moral.Before reading Lolita, I didn’t know that characters could be deeply flawed and hurtling toward consequences of their own making. I didn’t know that sometimes, they lie to readers and leave them questioning the characters’ true motives.When I reached Lolita’s catastrophic conclusion, I knew I would never view fiction writing the same way again. I immediately knew those were the kinds of stories I wanted to write.In last week's installment, I told a story about a lady I once went to church with who said that because I had such a great talent for writing, I should be writing fiction about people coming to know Jesus. When I tried to explain that I don’t write those kinds of stories, she pressed further, saying that I should because then I would be “truly pleasing God.”This kind of thinking doesn’t just drastically limit storytelling for Christians. It compels us to clean up the world and polish it up so the dirty parts can’t be seen.It’s not our job to clean up reality. That will only truly be accomplished at Christ’s glorious return.If the world in its current sinful state doesn’t matter to God, then most of the accounts in scripture shouldn’t exist. A lot of the Bible is rated R—it contains violent battles, adultery, incest, cold-blooded murder, and people with horrific personal agendas whose actions have terrible consequences.David held deep reverence for God yet committed a grievous sin against Him that impacted his reign as king. Jacob was cunning and deceitful. Ananias and Sapphira lied to the Holy Spirit to further their own reputations in the early church.This is why so many authors turn to the Bible for character inspiration, tropes, and archetypes. It is a rich treasure trove of complex, flawed people. What’s more, they’re true stories about how God used all of them to further His plan for the world, whether they were vessels for honor or dishonor.Perhaps that’s why stories like Lolita ring truer to me than most books in the Christian Fiction section. For better or worse, they’re closer to where we live.However, though I credit Lolita with exposing these delicate nuances of storytelling and making me want to be a writer, I must admit that I view the book differently today. It may be a literary masterpiece, but the horrific realities of child trafficking and sexual abuse have made it much harder for me to stomach.Reading Sarah Weinman’s harrowing book The Real Lolita, which tells the story of the real-life child abduction that likely inspired Nabokov, also significantly altered my perspective, as the similarities between real life and fiction are far too close for my comfort.It’s okay to recognize that art that once spoke to you no longer fits how you see the world. Not all art is for every moment we live in, and sometimes we need to let things go.Still, I’m grateful for the lesson Nabokov taught me about character development, motivation, and the often-messy nature of portraying the world as it is. That book with the saddle shoes on the cover? It’s still on my shelf, marked up from countless studies of the prose. My relationship to it has changed, but I don’t think I’ll ever fully escape it.I’m interested to hear what you have to say on this topic. What stories have affected you despite being intensely disturbing and having deeply flawed characters? Drop your thoughts in the comment section. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com

Before we talk any more about me, we need to talk about Flannery O’Connor.That’s because she isn’t just my favorite author. She is the author who makes me want to write. Her work is a prime example of what happens when Christian writers uncompromisingly tell the stories they’ve been given in their particular language and from their particular “country,” be it literal or metaphorical.Of course, this describes any Christian writers who excel at their work and resist the temptation toward preachiness and propaganda. They understand that good fiction does not come from a message but a truthful, resonant story. This is true whether these writers are crafting fantasy, science fiction, or stories set in the real world.But Flannery (we are on a first-name basis) represents a particular category of this. What happens when the stories a Christian is compelled to write are about the unceasing darkness of life in a sin-sick world?Although she is my favorite author, Flannery’s characters—serial killers, swindlers, prostitutes, and the self-righteous—are among the most repulsive I’ve encountered in any story. Yet, they are also among the most relatable. The novel Wise Blood played a significant role in my conversion to Christianity in college; in Hazel Motes, I saw my atheism for the repulsive, prideful rebellion that it was, and I saw his fate as a cautionary tale.(Commercial Break: If that caught your attention, you’ll want to read my essay collection, Why I Dyed My Hair Purple & Other Unorthodox Stories, which will be out in January. In my essay “Wise Blood,” I recount this story in full.)There are many beautiful stories written by Christians that feature more conventional light-to-darkness conversion narratives. But at that time, such a story never would have spoken to me. I was hardened against God and required something more aggressive—the “large and startling figures” Flannery spoke of crafting for an audience of unbelievers.Flannery’s stories are indeed dark, so much so that many people see them as hopeless, but I argue against this. The Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, and other books that Christian readers revere are so full of hope and light that it is radiant and blinding. In Flannery O’Connor, it seeps through a slowly-widening crack in a seemingly impenetrable rock wall. It makes me think of my favorite line from the brilliant singer-songwriter Bruce Cockburn: “Kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight.”I love stories of explicit hope—after all, the Gospel is the most stunning example of it. However, I’ve always had a particular bent toward darker fiction, stories where the lines between good and evil are blurred (come back next week for an example). I face an ongoing struggle with depression, and while one might think that these preferences only feed the melancholy, it makes me feel less alone.There is a peculiar sense of hope that comes from seeing portrayals of suffering. It makes me praise God that though we now see through a glass darkly, we are destined for a new heaven and new earth.I aspire to practice this in my fiction writing, as I have a particular audience in mind for my work, one that has experienced deep suffering over the past 50 years. My novel-in-stories, The Goodbye-Love Generation, takes place in my hometown of Kent, Ohio, where four students were killed during a deadly showdown between the Ohio National Guard and students at Kent State University in 1970.The event decimated the lives of dozens of people in their late teens and early ‘20s, some of whom are relatives and close friends of my family, and my community has never recovered.My novel centers around the Purple Orange, a fictional rock band flourishing amid Northeast Ohio’s thriving music scene in 1970. The shootings deal a massive blow to this, and over the next 50 years, they’re left to cope with the aftershock.They respond to the trauma in primarily destructive ways, and much of the book was hard for me to write because of how much their actions ran counter to my Christian morality. But their behavior, dysfunctional as it is, is authentic and reflective of what I’ve seen among people I care about.A woman I used to go to church with once told me that I was disappointing God by not writing stories about characters who find Jesus and instead writing about perceived degenerates addicted to sex, drugs, and foul language. These allegations hurt, but knowing that people told Flannery O’Connor the same thing comforts me greatly in my own creative vision.When one woman told Flannery that her work left a bad taste in her mouth, Flannery famously fired back, “You weren’t supposed to eat it.”I can’t tell you where the hope is in The Goodbye-Love Generation. I’m writing a sequel, and the end of the current book will leave the characters on their way to a happier ending. But I’m not particularly interested in putting hope in my fiction for hope’s sake. I write the stories I feel drawn to tell and leave the rest to God.Like Flannery O’Connor, I want to explore the ways the truths of my Christian faith intersect with creativity and produce art that helps us better see the afflicted but beautiful world we live in.I’ll get into this more next time. In fact, I’ll share the book that made me want to be a writer, and you will be shocked—perhaps even scandalized—at what it was.For now, what’s your experience with Flannery O’Connor? Do you have an author whose work you want to emulate? Feel free to share in the comments! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit korimorgan.substack.com