by Dan Masterton
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| Available April 2020! |
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Trying to become and be a writer has been a complex path. It sort of started with thinking, as a high schooler, that I wanted to study journalism in college. It evolved at college -- my work with the student newspaper and athletic department as well as my early classes in journalism helped me get experience with an activity I loved but a career and hustle I didn’t. It refiltered through a blossoming and sturdy love for theology and ministry and faith-sharing into a blog and an ill-fated first try at authoring a book. It's gone through fits and starts as I've tried to be more active in independent ministry and freelance writing, sometimes finding opportunities while also often coming up dry. There’s some interesting tensions and insights from walking this road.
For one, I’ve found a lot of tension with wondering how much energy to put into “getting myself out there.” People who become social media influencers, YouTube “stars,” and other well-known folks in the modern age, including in this sort of ministry, frequently only reach that level following a good deal of self-promotion. Even my favorite Chicago Cubs blogger, whose hustle is deeply admirable and whose work (and that of his writing team) is exemplary in quality and balance and tone, has only reached this level of reach through constant self-promotion -- plugging new posts, encouraging social media follows constantly, and even establishing cross-promotions as a partner brand/affiliate with others.
I’ve always struggled with this. Though naturally a fairly arrogant guy with a penchant for speaking with sharp conviction and coming off as a bit of a jackass, I have a tough time with being self-promotional. I believe what I’m writing is interesting and important and worth sharing, but I hesitate to amplify it. I certainly love when I get a new Twitter follow, when a post from the blog generates an above average level of engagement, or when people share my posts. But I’ve never found a comfort or proficiency with how, when, or even why to do it. My friend and former co-writer, Laura, taught me well when she signed on to the blog crew -- she explained that she was happy to write because she’d be sharing thoughts and reflections she was having anyway. That sort of indifference is the ideal mindset. Theological/spiritual/ministerial writing has to be gift, offered freely without expectation for whoever might come across it and how they might engage.
I’ve always had ideas about how to try to widen my reach in freelance ministry -- build this Facebook Page, cold-contact parishes about Theology on Tap engagements, suggest myself as a professional development speaker to my friends in Catholic education administration, etc. These are things that I have done and will do from time to time. However, the one real good, solid piece of advice that I got along the way was to find a platform.
The sought-after and desired writers, speakers, keynote-givers, formators, etc. are those people who are doing good work -- perhaps at a higher level and greater effectiveness than others though perhaps not -- and are doing so at a place or with an organization that is more widely known or has some sort of name-recognition. Their names and work are sort of organically “out there” by virtue of the community and/or position through which they minister, and the best arrangements proceed out of this kind of natural interconnectedness. These folks are getting the kind of ministerial engagement and dialogue I desired because they were serving the Church faithfully and connecting with others through the natural means of fellowship, community, and ministerial development within their fine work. How. Cool.
The problem for me with respect to this was that, just as I came to understand it clearly, my life focus was shifting into my new marriage and desire for children. As my wife, Katherine, and I were expecting our first child, we decided we wanted to avoid daycare, and I pursued a new arrangement that allowed me to be mostly a stay-at-home dad, working just enough to make a few bucks but not conflicting with my wife’s full-time schedule. It kept me active in ministry, but it left me less free time for writing. Instead, I had an exciting new, different, fuller plate with my daughter (and now, daughters). This invitation from God to being a faithful husband and father was not exclusive of writing and other ministry -- it instead invited me to put whatever aspirations I harbored for ministerial engagement on a smaller burner nearer the back of the stove.
I’ve found a real comfort, a definite peace, and an active joy in stay-at-home-dadding. As I’ve learned my girls’ ever-changing habits and created and revised routines, I’ve found where the nooks and crannies are for my self-care and self-sustenance. It means late-night stationary bike rides, early-morning (short) runs, and nap-time/quiet-time writing jags. In this constrained space, I’ve also found intentionality -- rather than trying to ramp up or widen my reach, I find my attention is on pursuing narrower, more specific opportunities that fit in these spaces and move me to focus well.
Through a friend’s referral, I was blessed to reconnect with Josh Noem, once the editor for FaithND and its daily Gospel reflections (of which I once wrote a few), and now the editor for Grotto Network -- a new online ministry geared toward Catholics and other spiritually curious folks who need some prevangelization before maybe digging deeper into their faith and/or religion. Learning to craft my ideas in dialogue with the needs of a defined audience and the known interests of those who are searching has pushed me to grow a lot as a writer. And Josh’s informed and compassionate editing has helped me understand how to present ideas more effectively. It has meant less original content on my blog but has also invited me into a platform where a diverse slate of writers and an intriguing pool of readers can engage with spirituality and thoughtful living anew.
And this brings me back to the matter of this book. The influence of my old bosses got this ball rolling. While working at St. Benedict Prep in Chicago, I came to appreciate and understand the importance of professional development. Rachel Gemo and Erika Mickelburgh were thoughtful about offering us regular opportunities to stay fresh and grow as professionals, both through on-site programs (that came through students’ days off or early dismissals rather than as tack-on’s to busy school days!) as well as funding for external opportunities -- for instance, my professional money one year funded my educational immersion in Uganda with Catholic Relief Services. During my last year there, Erika and Rachel encouraged us to consider attending the following year’s NCEA conference in Chicago and even to consider applying to present. I took that nudge: I repackaged a student program for designing, implementing, and directing a retreat into a presentation and applied for the conference. I was accepted and given a seminar slot.
I had no idea what to expect. Thousands attend this conference. The menu of seminars offered was vast, and I felt like an insignificant tiny speck in a loaded program. But I also knew that with so many attendees, there was bound to be specialized folks around and administrators looking to check into a lot of different areas. What I got was a room of about 25-30 people from different parts of the country and different levels of school staff and leadership. What did my heart well wasn’t just the attentive listening -- it was the thoughtful questions afterward and, even moreso, those who stayed to talk more.
One of those kind souls was Cari White, from St. Edward in Cleveland, who initiated a great conversation with me about her school and their campus ministry. Over her years of PD, she has tried to build a network of campus ministers and theology teachers (rather successfully, I’d say!), and there’s a Facebook group with 150+ people going strong that also meets up in person at conferences like this. Cari mentioned that she had engaged with NCEA on perhaps writing a book for campus ministers, sort of a survival guide to help them figure out how to operate or even get started. We traded email addresses, and I was pretty fired up walking back to the train ride home.
I pestered her over email during the following weeks. Pretty soon, we were outlining a table of contents, then chapters, and then a whole book, somehow becoming friends and collaborators despite having only met in person once. Cari had carefully laid great groundwork and graciously invited me into it. She even welcomed my imposing editing. What we ended up with is a nifty 100-page kit to seed new campus ministries, and now with cover art approved, inside design finished, and publication on the horizon, we’re excited to share the work coinciding with the NCEA (now-online) Conference this year.
If I ever had the gall to write a spiritual memoir, one motif I’d hopefully be able to highlight is God’s perennial invitation to me to surrender -- to surrender my desire for control and order to the spontaneous love of my goofball children; to surrender my longing to structure our family budget and finances to be in that perfect sweet spot and instead practice more relaxed diligence and trust; and in writing, to surrender the intermittent aspirations for wider exposure and greater opportunity in favor of those opportunities which come through simpler, faithful living.
My platforms in ministry have never been ones of wide reach or major name recognition. So much of campus ministry is a slow burn of constant invitation and opportunity for young people. And when you can do big things like border-trip immersions or international pilgrimage, the greatest impact lies in the future realizations that experience say seed, perhaps so many years down the line that you will never witness it in your former students.
In writing, God’s invitation for me is one of surrender -- not to worry about how a job opportunity or career path or twist or turn of life may hamper or improve my chance to continue writing. Instead, God invites me to faithfully live my multiple vocations as husband/father and pastoral minister/writer. In that faithful living, when I relax and follow my creativity and spirituality with honesty and authenticity, that is when I make the connections and find the opportunities to write, share, and engage. And the invitation continues to be to that more focused life of fidelity. It’s there that I’m advised to find a platform, to pursue professional development and share my expertise and experience, to collaborate with a like-minded and self-starting colleague, and to share a part of myself I didn’t think I’d get to share in a way I never imagined sharing that ends up carrying forward this part of my call. I pray our work in this book makes some impact for faithful ministers in our Catholic high schools, with whom I’d love to engage, and may the Holy Spirit continue to cultivate and build this part of me and continue forming me into who God made me to be.
I’ve found a real comfort, a definite peace, and an active joy in stay-at-home-dadding. As I’ve learned my girls’ ever-changing habits and created and revised routines, I’ve found where the nooks and crannies are for my self-care and self-sustenance. It means late-night stationary bike rides, early-morning (short) runs, and nap-time/quiet-time writing jags. In this constrained space, I’ve also found intentionality -- rather than trying to ramp up or widen my reach, I find my attention is on pursuing narrower, more specific opportunities that fit in these spaces and move me to focus well.
Through a friend’s referral, I was blessed to reconnect with Josh Noem, once the editor for FaithND and its daily Gospel reflections (of which I once wrote a few), and now the editor for Grotto Network -- a new online ministry geared toward Catholics and other spiritually curious folks who need some prevangelization before maybe digging deeper into their faith and/or religion. Learning to craft my ideas in dialogue with the needs of a defined audience and the known interests of those who are searching has pushed me to grow a lot as a writer. And Josh’s informed and compassionate editing has helped me understand how to present ideas more effectively. It has meant less original content on my blog but has also invited me into a platform where a diverse slate of writers and an intriguing pool of readers can engage with spirituality and thoughtful living anew.
And this brings me back to the matter of this book. The influence of my old bosses got this ball rolling. While working at St. Benedict Prep in Chicago, I came to appreciate and understand the importance of professional development. Rachel Gemo and Erika Mickelburgh were thoughtful about offering us regular opportunities to stay fresh and grow as professionals, both through on-site programs (that came through students’ days off or early dismissals rather than as tack-on’s to busy school days!) as well as funding for external opportunities -- for instance, my professional money one year funded my educational immersion in Uganda with Catholic Relief Services. During my last year there, Erika and Rachel encouraged us to consider attending the following year’s NCEA conference in Chicago and even to consider applying to present. I took that nudge: I repackaged a student program for designing, implementing, and directing a retreat into a presentation and applied for the conference. I was accepted and given a seminar slot.
I had no idea what to expect. Thousands attend this conference. The menu of seminars offered was vast, and I felt like an insignificant tiny speck in a loaded program. But I also knew that with so many attendees, there was bound to be specialized folks around and administrators looking to check into a lot of different areas. What I got was a room of about 25-30 people from different parts of the country and different levels of school staff and leadership. What did my heart well wasn’t just the attentive listening -- it was the thoughtful questions afterward and, even moreso, those who stayed to talk more.
One of those kind souls was Cari White, from St. Edward in Cleveland, who initiated a great conversation with me about her school and their campus ministry. Over her years of PD, she has tried to build a network of campus ministers and theology teachers (rather successfully, I’d say!), and there’s a Facebook group with 150+ people going strong that also meets up in person at conferences like this. Cari mentioned that she had engaged with NCEA on perhaps writing a book for campus ministers, sort of a survival guide to help them figure out how to operate or even get started. We traded email addresses, and I was pretty fired up walking back to the train ride home.
I pestered her over email during the following weeks. Pretty soon, we were outlining a table of contents, then chapters, and then a whole book, somehow becoming friends and collaborators despite having only met in person once. Cari had carefully laid great groundwork and graciously invited me into it. She even welcomed my imposing editing. What we ended up with is a nifty 100-page kit to seed new campus ministries, and now with cover art approved, inside design finished, and publication on the horizon, we’re excited to share the work coinciding with the NCEA (now-online) Conference this year.
* * *
If I ever had the gall to write a spiritual memoir, one motif I’d hopefully be able to highlight is God’s perennial invitation to me to surrender -- to surrender my desire for control and order to the spontaneous love of my goofball children; to surrender my longing to structure our family budget and finances to be in that perfect sweet spot and instead practice more relaxed diligence and trust; and in writing, to surrender the intermittent aspirations for wider exposure and greater opportunity in favor of those opportunities which come through simpler, faithful living.
My platforms in ministry have never been ones of wide reach or major name recognition. So much of campus ministry is a slow burn of constant invitation and opportunity for young people. And when you can do big things like border-trip immersions or international pilgrimage, the greatest impact lies in the future realizations that experience say seed, perhaps so many years down the line that you will never witness it in your former students.
In writing, God’s invitation for me is one of surrender -- not to worry about how a job opportunity or career path or twist or turn of life may hamper or improve my chance to continue writing. Instead, God invites me to faithfully live my multiple vocations as husband/father and pastoral minister/writer. In that faithful living, when I relax and follow my creativity and spirituality with honesty and authenticity, that is when I make the connections and find the opportunities to write, share, and engage. And the invitation continues to be to that more focused life of fidelity. It’s there that I’m advised to find a platform, to pursue professional development and share my expertise and experience, to collaborate with a like-minded and self-starting colleague, and to share a part of myself I didn’t think I’d get to share in a way I never imagined sharing that ends up carrying forward this part of my call. I pray our work in this book makes some impact for faithful ministers in our Catholic high schools, with whom I’d love to engage, and may the Holy Spirit continue to cultivate and build this part of me and continue forming me into who God made me to be.
