For what it’s worth, the September 16 edition of The New Yorker contains a number of excerpts from the prayer/spiritual journal Flannery O’Connor began keeping at the age of 21, just prior to the publication of her first short story, “The Geranium.” The entire notebook will be published in November. I am not sure who made the selection of entries for the magazine to publish, but somehow I am not surprised they close with this:
My thoughts are so far away from God. He might as well not have made me. And the feeling I egg up writing here lasts approximately a half hour and feels a sham. I don’t want any of this artificial superficial feeling stimulated by the choir. Today I have proved myself a glutton–for Scotch oatmeal cookies and erotic thought. There is nothing left to say of me.