Into the Fire

I suspect . . .

. . . that if a writer somehow achieved a “perfect” novel, few would recognize it as such. If they employed all the “rules”—check out Mick Silva’s blog post “On Writing Novels, Part 2” (http://mywritersgroup.typepad.com/) –there would still be some self-appointed critic who would find something not to like.

Why is that? Here’s what I think. The literary-ists would love the novel, rave about the elegant prose and use all those other words they like to use to modify what they think is superior writing. Those authors who labor and strive and nearly cut themselves in penance when they produce an “ly” word or one too many “was” verbs—yes, they would probably lock themselves in a dark basement and both mourn and celebrate this “perfect” novel, wishing they could’ve written it first.

However, and don’t ya just know there is always a “but” coming . . . the thriller crowd would yawn and gape and finally cast the book against the nearest wall declaring to anyone who might listen, “I can’t read this schlock!” “Who does this guy/gal think he/she is? I mean, come on, can’t they just say what they mean without all these metaphors and descriptive verbs? Do they really think people act or talk like this?”

And there’s the sandpaper rubbing on the wound of a writer. This labor of love has astounded the one group and bored the other to shrieking outbursts. And, inevitably, once again, the “success” of a book comes back to “opinion”. To “the story”. And to “the audience”.

The irony of this is that books written in the 19th century are still considered classics, but there isn’t an editor today who will tell you that some of them would successfully make it through present-day pub boards, one of the exceptions being those novels by Jane Austen. Jane Austen is having her own personal revival, and she’s been dead for 191 years, folks. Apparently not at all celebrated for her literary genius when she was with us.

The question raised by attempting to create the “perfect” novel is quite simple: Why? Not “how”. Who are you trying to please? Yourself? Do you think once you type “The End” you will be satisfied? Well, mostly, you should be. It’s a thrilling moment which should generate excitement, pleasure, relief, and maybe even a bit of sadness—unless of course it’s a series. We all realize we will wait a bit before we dive back into it for revisions, so the best thing to do is bask in the satisfaction of completion. Maybe it’ll be your best effort, maybe it’ll be your first effort, and maybe it’ll be your third favorite of all the novels you pen. At some point you may hate it but only because fear has overtaken your sensibilities and convinced you of your pathetic pathos as a writer.

If you’re trying to please a publisher, aim for strict adherence to the rules. If you write thrillers, chances are you’ll be given some leeway with those “rules”—that is if you have a thrilling story. In fact, if your story knocks the socks off some agent, editor, and pub board, it’s debatable how much the “rules” will come into play. But the “rules” give a writer a launching point, an idea of taking basic writing skills to another level, and a measuring stick to stack your prose against. But in reality they’re fluid. Like the ocean they slide forward and back along the writing shores.

I believe some authors could write about almost anything. They know the mechanics of writing a novel. They’re able to follow or even lead trends and know the business of publishing from the inside out. They can put together a 300 page novel in the 5 ½ x 8 ½ trim size in a matter of three to six months’ time. They’re professionals.

Each writer has his own style, work habits, weaknesses, and strengths. And none of them are perfect. So, no matter how hard you work at it, how good you get at it, how much you want to write that perfect novel . . . you won’t. At least by someone else’s standard it won’t be. Because you can’t please ‘em all. For this solitary reason it’s a much better goal to strive to please the Lord.

Father, apart from you, we can do nothing. Help us to truly realize what you are saying to us. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please continue to pray for Kristy Dykes.*

Do you really think . . . ?

. . . it matters what you think about some things?

My friend Mark Harbeson recently resigned from his own blog “Utter Drivel” because he wrote a humorous post about returning a wrong-size gift that he liked to a particular store that he didn’t like based only on his usual shopping habits regarding clothing. As you well know, Mark is downright funny at times, so this particular post was full of humor and also poked fun at himself. However, certain relatives were incensed, hurt, embarrassed, and all of the “above”, by his “public” posting, and he not only suffered their wrath, he, too, was humiliated by their rather brutal responses to what he thought was an inoffensive post. Let me tell you, he did suffer. First of all, he was misunderstood. Secondly, he was also hurt, and thirdly, he was also embarrassed by their reactions. Anyway, it was a mutually hurtful experience, and he elected to shut down his blog for fear of inciting others with any of his posts.

I confess I have incensed others with some of my opinions, postings, and comments left on others’ blogs. Writing on the web creates unnatural confrontations when the aim of some posters is not succinct. Either it’s taken seriously when it’s meant to be funny or vice versa, or it’s considered insulting when it’s just meant to be an opposing opinion. In other words, it can be incredibly easy to be misunderstood and create conflict where none is intended.

My “regulars”, who have for the most part become my friends, know I am passionate about my thoughts and opinions, and I don’t give them without consideration. When I post a “rant”, I have taken to specifying it as such just in case others don’t care for reading frustration on blogs. My thoughts and opinions are not always right or even correct, but they have been arrived at via ponderous searches of mental mechanics. Smile. I do think before I post to put it more simply.

Opinions being what they are, sometimes it is my opinion that people need to be reminded they are not the end all, cure all, of this universe. In other words we are dust. A breath. A blade of grass that grows, withers, and dies in a matter of insignificant time compared to eternity. We get one life on earth. We have one unique purpose whether or not it involves all kinds of occupations, skills, and talents, or if it is focused around one area in this life. We are designed by God to find Him and serve Him according to His perfect plan. Outside of that, in and of ourselves, we are pretty much worthless. It isn’t complicated, but it most certainly is challenging for the human race, self-centered, self-serving creatures that we are.

Platitudes in publishing drive me up a wall. They cause me to overreact, to gag, to stomp around and declare my frustrated ranting to my Lord who listens attentively and lets me get it all out before quietly and calmly issuing perspective and grace.

Whether or not I will, I should probably delete the majority of my “favorites”. I’m weary of platitudes, echoing adoration, rules for “good” writing, which in truth are negotiable but fair guidelines for beginners who understand the basics of grammar and the need for a logical, well-designed story. And the hype about marketing is stifling, albeit informative.

So there. I am sorry for offending some with my posts/comments/opinions. If you knew me—as Mark’s relatives should have known him—you’d know I wouldn’t deliberately offend or hurt anyone. I agree that absence of personal knowledge makes a person bolder in expressing opinions—creates a distance and sets up a boundary of separation. Nevertheless, if I have offended you or angered you, I will try not to do so again, but I suspect if you disagree with my basic philosophy about the publishing business being imperfect, you will find yourself riled up over some of my “rebellious” posts which don’t feed into the adoration of the professionals without directly disrespecting them because I don’t disrespect them. They work hard, and I’m sure most of them do their jobs well and deserve commendation. Just not adoration—where those who write hang on their every word and repeat the mantras of what makes “good” writing like automatons while refusing to read ANY thing which doesn’t comply with those exaggerated “rules” for writing, pitching, querying, well, you get it. There is a set order to things in publishing, and, let’s face it, if you want it bad enough, you will comply. Especially if you’re a newcomer.

Do I really think my radical thoughts of the publishing world are going to matter or make a difference? No. No, I do not. But that isn’t going to change them. I’ve always been a crusader of sorts when I strongly believe something is slightly or abundantly off kilter or needs commentary or correction. Guess I’m not gonna change.

Father, I know you will always be there for me, and you will teach me your ways if I listen and learn. Thank you for not giving up on me. I’m desperate for you. Thank you for that indescribable grace when I least deserved or deserve it now. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please continue to pray for Kristy Dykes.*

What I've Learned . . .

Apparently about me . . .

You Should Be a Film Writer (What kind of writer should you be?)

You don't just create compelling stories, you see them as clearly as a movie in your mind.
You have a knack for details and dialogue. You can really make a character come to life.
Chances are, you enjoy creating all types of stories. The joy is in the storytelling.
And nothing would please you more than millions of people seeing your story on the big screen!

Tiramisu (What kind of dessert are you?)

Light and lovely, you pack a punch.
You never overwhelm... but you always leave a lasting impression.

Lily (What kind of flower are you?)

You are a nurturer and all around natural therapist.
People see you as their rock. And they are able to depend on you.
You are a soothing influence. You can make people feel better with a few words.
Your caring has more of an impact than even you realize.

(http://www.blogthings.com/whatflowerareyouquiz, if you care to play)

Father, I know sometimes you must just roll your eyes and shake your head at me, but you love me anyway. "That's all I'm livin' for." I love you, Lord. Thank you, Jesus, for always being my advocate. Thank you, Holy Spirit, for continuing to teach me. You know I'm a slow learner . . . I need your patience. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please continue to pray for Kristy Dykes.*

Talking Down or Talking Up

Most of us have experienced condescension. Most of us at some point have experienced at least a modicum of admiration. Either way, if you’re talking to me, please don’t. In writing circles on the web we see so much of both. While I do admire some writers, it’s not for their ability to string words together in creative venues with lovely language or the thrilling ideas generated on pages between covers. No, I admire a devoted walk in Jesus Christ—with all of its failings, struggles, joys, and sorrows.

You hear me rant, complain, mention, ponder, and generally offer comments about writing “rules” and the accepted “norm” or the trends for most of today’s Christian fiction. The worn out instructions for producing “good” writing are plastered all over the websites and blogs of agents, editors, writers and wannabes, and even some publishing house sites—and most of them recommend all the standard books on the craft of writing. If a person’s interest, gifting, talent, and skill is writing, it’s fairly safe to say the individual will pursue the investment in the “how to” usages of grammar and the basic rules of creating whatever it is they write—be it essays, journalistic investigation, magazine articles, narrative non-fiction, memoirs, short stories, or fiction. If they choose not to learn the basics, chances are their interests in writing are more self-serving with no professional intent.

Having said that, when I express my self-termed “rebellion” against the current model which has in many cases produced formulaic writing in regards to structure and style, I don’t need someone talking down to me about the “values” of the rules themselves. I have learned the rules. I know the rules. I don’t use them at all times, and they are simply “guidelines” (Thank you, Captain Barbossa), not religious doctrine.

I write novels. You might not like the way I write them, and that’s okay. I’ve written seven of them. Hip, hip, hooray. Not a huge deal compared to some. Kind of a big deal when viewed by others. I would love it if you enjoyed my stories and appreciated my writing. In fact, I’d be thrilled. But I don’t profess to be an “artist”. And I know I have a specific type of audience. I don’t deserve admiration for my accomplishments, but I need affirmation as much as the next person. I don’t write solely for me. I write because the Lord has put it on my heart to do so and supplied the stories, and because of all the things in this world I have to give to Him, it’s all of so little value. Writing is my offering to Him, done in obedience to His leading and instruction.

While I respect the professionals in the publishing industry, they are not gods to me. They are learned, intelligent individuals, business people engaged in a very subjective industry which either thrives or fails on how well they guess what will inspire people to buy their books. That pretty much sums it all up for me.

I don’t know anyone who appreciates condescending attitudes directed at them, and neither do I. In the same way I don’t need anyone laying undue praises on me either—not that they do. Let’s just treat each other as equals and forget credentials and qualifications—since the credit for any of those goes directly to the Lord anyway.

Father, you are no respecter of persons. What a relief. I could never measure up—it means so much to know I don’t have to be compared to someone else and found wanting. All I can do is put all my hopes in you and listen for your voice and heed your instruction. That’s all I want to do anyway. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please remember to pray for Kristy Dykes.*

Timing . . .

On February 24th, 2008, the annual Academy Awards celebration is supposed to be on television to present the Oscars to those professionals in the film industry who have been voted on and selected as the best in their particular fields of endeavor for the year 2007. Because of the writers’ strike (WGA), there is some question as to whether or not the show will go on and if the writers will agree to a one day truce while the failed negotiations wait in the wings for a future playbill to resume.

If you’re not interested in the entertainment industry or you’re not a movie fan, you could care less, I know. “So what?” you ask. Well . . .

Recently, a few actors have died, the most recognizable being Heath Ledger. Last week’s post titled “Movies and Movie Stars” addressed his young life coming to what seems to many a premature end.

While much in the film industry has been clouded with debauchery through the ages since its inception, it’s unfair to declare all those involved as heathens and therefore undesirables. Neither is it acceptable to garner undue praise and idolatry for them when they are simply human beings with ascribed talents just like the rest of us. Because whether or not you’re a fan of film, acting is a wonderful talent and a gift from our God. Like writing it can be used for the glory and pleasure of God—or not.

One of the reasons I’ve decided to mention this subject again is because at approximately the same time as the Oscar trophies will be distributed, my novel The Famous One will become available. It just so happens to be a story about an actor.

So here come my infamous *disclaimers*, the non-marketer in me asserting itself. To the pure professionals in the film industry there will be technical aspects and terms not included, either vague or imagined sequences, and definitely not a finite and perfect rendition of all aspects of acting, producing films, and making movies. This isn’t a textbook on either acting or filmmaking, but, believe it or not, I did do some research before writing this book.

No, in fact, this novel is slightly autobiographical in a small sense and very loosely based on the life of a real actor who is thankfully very much alive.

The Famous One is a contemporary Christian novel written for adult readers, but the first three quarters of the story are mostly written from a secular experience. Here is the portion of the back cover copy which reveals the gist of this story:

*What drives the handsome, troubled Joey Parr in his search for “real”?

Joey Parr’s journey from a troubled childhood and rebellious adolescence leads him into a career in film and reluctant celebrity. The Famous One chronicles his life and allows the reader to share in his beginnings, his awkward fame, and the love which finally finds him when he least expects it. As his dream of having a family unfolds, he is stunned to learn something is still missing from his near perfect life.

The Famous One takes an introverted yet passionate character of few words and deep running emotion and puts him into the spotlight of fame where he is hungry for value, substance, and real love but struggles to find them.*

I couldn’t ask for better timing for the appearance of this novel, and if I had a team of marketing specialists behind the release of this book, we could have a field day with opportunities coinciding with the awards for excellence in the film industry. However, when you self-publish a book, you may also purchase publicity packages of various depths and degrees—that is, if you can afford them after shelling out the considerable costs of producing said books. Sooo . . . we’re giving the power of marketing to the Lord Jesus Christ in prayer and the petition of those friends and visitors who’ve been pre-selected to receive copies of this novel. If they like it . . . what will they do?

As it has been said ad nauseum—but with good reason—“Timing is everything.” And I couldn’t agree more. God has His own time and seasons for everything, including the release of novels. How appropriate that those folks who appreciate the medium of film and the enjoyment of reading novels can choose to experience a story about a kid with no direction who happens into a career as an actor, and . . . well . . . movies are made about stuff like this!

Anyway, this is fair warning: *Occasional marketing posts to follow.* AAAACCCKKK!!!

Father, thank you for the experience of researching and writing this novel. You know what it involved and what it was like for me because you orchestrated the entire journey. Thank you for the burden, Lord. And may my prayers reap souls for your kingdom. Please, Lord, in the Name of Jesus. Amen.

*Please remember to pray for Kristy Dykes.*

Sunday's Offerings

Be very careful, then, how you live--not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord's will is.

Ephesians 5:15-17 (NIV)

A Warning to the Human Race . . . via Demon . . . a memoir

On page 220 of the novel Demon . . . a memoir is an eye-opening paragraph which so well summarizes our arrogance as human beings. Yes, even those of us who’ve been blessed to know Jesus Christ, who’ve professed to have yielded our pathetic lives to Him for his redemption and reconstruction, those of us who’ve claimed in Him “we live and breathe and have our being” . . . yes, even us.

“I wondered where I had missed all of this, growing up. How pale, how superficial and ritualistic, had been my early experience with the church and their packaged God.”

Granted this can be the experience of many who have attended churches where the Life has been replaced with the idolatry of trends and programs, rituals and practices. It goes to show that salvation is only available through the Spirit of God, dispatched to those whose hearts are ready and willing to consider repentance and Truth. None of us, after all, can save ourselves.

Although this story by Tosca Lee has undoubtedly already been compared to The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis or its modern day version Lord Foulgrin’s Letters by Randy Alcorn, it only resembles them by the inclusion of a viable demon—except this one takes on the appearances of various types and both genders of human beings to carry on conversations with the protagonist, cleverly named Clay, at selected meetings over which Clay has no control. Under the guise of having his memoir published by the editor and frustrated writer (Clay), Lucian, the demon, reveals a stunning story of heavenly magnitude and supernatural events both past and present. Clay finds himself embroiled in a retelling of Lucian’s story, addicted to the demon’s words which fill every spare moment Clay can find to compile them while finding himself fearfully anticipating his next encounter with Lucian in some new human form, unable to fully gauge or understand the purpose or priority these meetings have assumed in his life.

As a side note to this story, I am always amazed at how little some Christians take the presence of demonic beings on this earth seriously. In spite of the warnings in 2 Corinthians and the sixth chapter of Ephesians, not to mention innumerable other warnings throughout Scripture, so many of us simply ignore the efforts of the enemy in our lives and ultimately suffer the consequences of our ignorance. He’s a formidable foe—the Bible makes that undeniably clear. Whether it’s fear or laziness, there is no excuse to limit your walk to a passive avoidance of addressing the one who is our constant enemy with the determined and focused purpose of destroying our walk with Jesus.

This novel is a quick study of the evil observance and hatred of the human race held by the demonic horde led by Satan. Truly a wake up call to those Christians who shuffle along without admitting we are in a spiritual battle. Not only is it a viable and creative interpretation of the fall of Lucifer and his band of traitors, the Creation, and the intense love God has for man, the writing itself is excellent, cunning, and well-crafted, making the story captivating and real. The conclusion to this story is not neat and tidy but hopeful and in keeping with the overall establishment of the protagonist’s character.

I not only recommend this novel for those readers who want a fascinating story but to those Christians who are less than engaged in the enemy’s plans for you.

Father, we are your children. You love us. You equip us. Help us not to disregard your weapons, your power, your Spirit who desires to lead us through the trials to victory secured in your promises and provisions. Thank You, Jesus, for your glory, the power of your Name above all names, your Authority, your Blood. Amen.

And, God, I pray for Tosca Lee. Continue to instruct her, to set before her the one way you have for her. Give her your inspiration and continue to anoint her efforts done in obedience to you, and give her your divine protection. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Movies and Movie Stars

I love movies. Certainly not all movies. And oftentimes the ones I like have a great deal to do with the actors who are in them. Whenever I post about films in general—at least where opinions are sought—there is usually a large and varied response. I’ll love one actor, you won’t, and so it goes. Same with the films themselves. We all have our favorites among movies and movie stars.

Every now and then an aged actor will pass away. Sometimes it’s a familiar character actor in a television series we watched long ago, or it’s someone who possessed bona fide star quality and fame. Either way we remember their skills and appeal—or even that we couldn’t see in them whatever it was that everyone else seemed to admire.

And then sometimes we receive news of the River Phoenix kind, a young promising and talented actor dying on the sidewalk outside The Viper Room nightclub in tinsel town from the ingestion of too many in both quantity and types of drugs. We wonder why such a vibrant professional found it necessary to medicate himself to an even and ever greater high than being a successful and young actor.

Now we have the death of Heath Ledger, 28 year old Australian actor, Oscar nominee a few years back for his portrayal of a married homosexual cowboy in “Brokeback Mountain”, soon to be seen in “The Dark Knight” playing a starkly different rendition of The Joker in yet another Batman sequel. He started his acting gig in his native country playing Peter Pan when he was 10 years old. By the age of 19 he was in LA seeking the real acting jobs and, after playing in one teen-slanted film with Julia Stiles (seen in the Bourne films), began the selective process of choosing those films which required more of him.

It’s assumed he will have died of an accidental drug overdose, similar to that of another fellow Aussie a few years back, who hadn’t achieved the status of Heath Ledger, by the name of Trevor Goddard who played Lt. Cmdr. Mic Brumby on the series “JAG” and was also one of the pirate crew in “POTC, Curse of the Black Pearl”. Apparently both actors were very well liked, and their families and friends were shocked and devastated both at their deaths and at the way they died. Goddard’s death was initially termed a suicide but eventually suggested it may have been an accidental overdose of illegal drugs. Ledger’s death is being suggested as an accidental overdose with no evidence in the apartment of illegal drugs. However, there were anti-depressants and prescription sleeping pills present, apparently due to some serious insomnia of late.

There are always mixed reactions from those of us outside the industry. Some react with disdain, assuming the individual was probably a junkie of some kind. Others wonder how anyone with such success could possibly be unhappy or disturbed by life. And still others will remember he is the father of a two year old daughter with his ex-fiancée and co-star in the Brokeback movie and will look upon the situation with compassion and a sense of loss.

However one decides to assess it—whether a tragedy or a troubled life or a foolish act or irrelevant—the real question concerns eternity. It’s too late now for a decision to be rendered by Heath Ledger. I have no idea of his views on spiritual things, but as a Christian I know he was given his 28 years to make a decision about God and how he regarded His Son Jesus Christ. This decision, so disregarded by many, is the most critical of all requirements in this life—long or short. No one can make it for us. It is something we must do ourselves.

Heath Ledger lived and died. Now he is in eternity. It no longer matters how he lived his life here. Whenever it was that he inhaled his final breath and slipped away, let’s hope he had time to find and know Jesus Christ. Otherwise, this life with all its flaws and pitfalls, sinful actions, words, and deeds . . . this life was the best he could have hoped for.

Father, you know. You know us, our hearts, our intentions, our thoughts. You know if and when we belong to you. You sent your Son to forgive us all. You give us only so long on this earth and you make a way for the seeking heart to find Jesus. You know whose heart is true. Thank you, God, for salvation, available to all, accepted by some. The real tragedy lies in passing up your love and forgiveness, your mercy and grace. Help us all to draw ever nearer to you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please continue to pray for Kristy Dykes.*

On Being Fallen

As a member of the CFBA (Christian Fiction Blog Alliance) shown in the sidebar of this blog, I receive a selection of books in galley form to read. When I choose a book, the only requirement is for me to participate on my blog during the dates allotted for the specific blog tour with information or a review or an author interview of that particular book. It's great! So, the CFBA blog tour for February 23rd through the 25th is Matthew Raley's first novel entitled Fallen, and my review of it follows.

The Christian Fiction Blog Alliance tour for January gives us Kregel Publications’ presentation of Matthew Raley’s first novel Fallen. I should state right up front that I would not have been the target audience for this book, and the reason for that is not the subject matter which I found engaging but the length of the story. The pre-release galley shows the page count at 240, qualifying it as more of a novella to me, and anything resembling short stories is just not my first love.

Quickly establishing his voice in this first person account of a church board chairman (Jim), a banker who happens to glimpse his pastor exiting a Mercedes driven by an attractive woman who is not his wife, Mr. Raley immediately delves into the awkward and somewhat troubled reaction of his chairman as he ventures through the gamut of emotions concerning the young pastor’s careless protocol. Although the pastor sees the board chairman and waves from the nearby coffee shop, for the rest of the day Jim is concerned about the smirking looks the pastor receives from the shop’s employees when he leaves the vehicle as well as the abnormally dressed up attire he is wearing.

The entire story takes place in a matter of two days, but in that time period we learn of the ongoing years of conflict surrounding this church, the history of Jim’s father waging war against the practices of a previous pastor and board members due to their total lack of integrity in both spiritual and practical matters, and the ill-fated and undesired walk in his deceased father’s shoes as the ugly facts become apparent about the present corruption within the same church’s pastorate and board.

The writing is good—the main character’s voice is strong, conflicted, and displays the antagonism of confronting someone who is manipulative and about to get the best of him. In the process of this confrontation and the ensuing pursuit of discipline and justice, Jim learns more about himself than he really cares to know, including the basis for his past dormant but now simmering anger, and the realization of just how equivalent sin can be. The personal character studies of a man who thinks he knows God and the young pastor who maneuvers his way through the scriptures to serve his errant desires is handled effectively with a satisfying but too abrupt conclusion.

There is an occasional indulgence in the exaggerated thought patterns of the protagonist, but I think overall they help to define who he is, how he perceives and reacts to different stimuli. The story is interesting and honest but much too brief for me.

Father, thank you for Matthew Raley’s efforts to tackle this difficult subject and expose sin in all its far reaching ways. He did it skillfully. Please lead and guide him in his writing efforts, giving him direction and wisdom. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0825435757

(I would just like to say that writer Bonnie Calhoun is a wonderful, astute, and very helpful director of this organization, having "inherited" the leadership from author Tony Hines. If you're thinking of joining, she'll welcome you and guide you through the process in spite of her very busy life and schedule.)

Bonnie Calhoun
Dir.- CFBA
http://christianfictionblogalliance.com - CFBA Website
http://christianfictionblogalliance.blogspot.com - CFBA Blog

*Please continue to pray for Kristy Dykes.*

Perfection

The nature of perfection exists only in God. So where does that urge, the compulsion, the desire, the obsession to be perfect originate? Well . . . duh. In regard to loving our enemies or technically those who have yet to know Jesus Christ personally—keep in mind you’re either for Him or against Him according to His definition, not ours—be they “pagans” or “Gentiles” in the faith sense, we are to “be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48). In other words, love the dang people anyway—you don’t have to like them, approve of them, or even think they’re worth a second look or thought: love ‘em anyway. Because of God’s perfect love for you, because God allowed Jesus’ death on the cross to cover your sins, and because Jesus rose again to cover ALL sin, because if you accept that sacrifice, the Holy Spirit resides within you and will not give up on you, because of ALL that God has allowed in you and never withheld his love from you . . . that’s how you are to BE perfect in Him. Love people. Because it’s in you to do it through the Holy Spirit. No way can it be done without Him. You might paraphrase it by saying, “Let His perfection reign in you and be expressed through love.”

Tall order. A God-size order. One that can only be done in obedience and complete submission to Him.

So, in relation to writing, we have a number of authors/writers who often become stymied by their desire to write perfectly. As if . . . Seriously. Who is really egotistical enough to even attempt writing perfection? Slathering drivel is not the alternative. How about “good”? How about “decent”—in the sense of “well done”? How about “very good”? Or “excellent”? Or “enticing”? Or “unique”? Or “unusual”? Or “clever”? Or “humorous”? Or “meaningful”? Or “action-packed”? Or “thrilling”? Or “touching”? Or “melancholy”? Or “daring”?

If you’re writing to create perfection, you must be writing to please man. I mean, think about it. Yes, it is man—or woman—who sits at the desks of agencies and publishing houses. Do you really think you receive their favor because of your stirring words or stories? Do you really believe without God’s favor, timing, and grace that you would have a book in print? Are we so arrogant to think that because God has given us some talent, we can “perform” the task and receive the affirmation of our skills without Him? I mean, let’s give credit where credit is due and quit assuming that we’ve worked hard enough and put in the just right words and taken such exceptional care to observe all the writing techniques which finally have made us publishable and near, well, perfect.

No. Sorry, but, no. For everyone whose writing we admire and wish we could emulate, there is someone else who no doubt detests their work. Now depending on who you are in the publishing arena, your opinion might pack a pretty powerful punch in the influence department, but, really, would you be where you are if it wasn’t for God’s positioning and showing you His favor?

This is not to say you are not to work hard and write your best. But if you even for a moment think you’re going to turn out perfection, you’ve forgotten the soiled creation. A perfect garden, a perfect romance, a perfect union—enter the lust for attaining another kind of perfection: to be like God. The pride in thinking it was attainable. Perfection and sin do not coexist. Not in reality, not in writing.

Take a gut check of your ego. Here I am spouting off my “profound” opinions. I couldn’t have realized this one—or at least not fleshed it out so it made sense to me—without the enlightenment of the Holy Spirit. All these writers wanting their work to be perfect, wallowing in the quagmires of extreme self-doubt . . . something just didn’t gel for me. What is this about? It’s about the fear of man—the fear of being judged “inferior” in spite of the success.

If we write in obedience to Christ, is God going to thumb His nose at our labors? Highly doubtful. He loves our work—if and when it’s done in obedience to Him. Now if that’s not enough for you, there might be a problem . . .

God, you alone are perfection. Outside of you, it does not exist. I cannot attain it in and of myself. I am thankful for whatever you can do with me, in me, through me. Please, Lord, make me usable for your glory. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please continue to pray for Kristy Dykes.*

Finding . . .

I’m finding I’m not so absorbed in making the words sing as I am in making them speak clearly . . . with passion . . . with emotion . . . securing a “knowing” from their readers, a familiarity and an identity.

I’m finding that time is irrelevant in creation of novels. It gives, it takes from us, but we press on with what we have, how we have it, and feel guilty or graced by how we secure it, catch it, use it, or waste it. We are imperfect in all we do and all we produce—and even in all we say . . . unless the Lord Himself intervenes and places His anointing, His divine touch and flavor and, yes, His emotion upon and within it, upon and within them.

I’m finding it is more important to give the purpose of it all right back to God and quit coveting it in my selfish dreams of what it could be instead of what it is.

I’m finding I am often too noisy, too bent on changing the world as I see it, too wanting to impact and influence and invigorate and impassion . . . when the still small voice is the greatest, often the loudest in the silence, and always the most powerful.

I’m finding that my differences are peculiar to me, separating me from feeling “a member”, from the crowd, from the reasonable sometimes, but allowing me to be who I am in the maze.

I’m finding that through it all I do change, and I grow in patience which in itself is a miracle. I’m not stagnant, but I am firm in what I’ve learned. Solid in the density of believing in how I perceive what I recognize as undesirable.

I’m finding I have acquired discernment from the generosity of the Spirit—I am not without gifts—not the lone individual God has forgotten. No, He has amply provided vision and the passion to sustain it, the desire to set fire to the immovable opinion, to the “required” agenda, to the herd-like acceptance.

Finding . . . you, Lord, is the greatest thing I do daily. The greatest, most beautiful and fulfilling thing this earth has to offer. Life is truly in you. Nowhere else is it found. Nor is love in anyplace else. Nor perfection . . . Thank you, God, for finding me. Thank you, Jesus, for giving yourself for me. Thank you, Holy Spirit, for indwelling this ragged temple. Thank you for your unique relationship that is above all others, perfect on your side of it and willing to participate in my failings and insecurities and love me anyway. Thank you for it all, in the Name of Jesus. Amen.

*Please pray for Kristy Dykes. These are especially hard times for this brave woman.*

Sunday's Offerings

Psalm 13

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and every day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Look on me and answer, O Lord my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;
my enemy will say, "I have overcome him,"
and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
for he has been good to me.

*Please pray for Kristy Dykes.*

Saturday Sample . . .

She felt the usual guilt driving home. She never experienced sex without guilt. Plus she felt guilty about leaving Matt there alone. He accommodated her every need for independence, never pushed her or their relationship into going somewhere she didn’t want to go—he was a strong, yet tender guy, but . . . but what? “What?!” she screamed out loud in the confines of her car, slapping the steering wheel with her left palm. The short drive home came to an end without any questions answered, as usual, and sometimes she felt like she absolutely hated herself for the decisions she’d made all through her life that left her in such a state of confusion and disarray. Maybe she should just end her relationship with Matt. She’d miss him for sure—he was a wonderful guy! But she couldn’t really make him happy the way she was, and so consequently he couldn’t make her happy either. Once inside the door she dropped her purse on the floor and shut the door harder than she intended. “How many times have I had this conversation?” she asked herself. “I’m sick of it.” Without warning the tears came in a rush. “Just sick of it,” she sobbed.

“Hey, CM! Your boyfriend’s here,” Char whispered excitedly. “Listen, if you ever dump him, let me know, alright? Talk about drop dead gorgeous!”
“Matt’s here?” CM asked in surprise, standing in her cubicle.
Char gestured secretively with her hand in front of her concealed by her body to a spot behind her across the room.
When she looked around Char, Matt caught her eye and put up his hand in a discreet wave. CM smiled nervously. What’s he doing here? she almost said aloud.
“Hi, Matt. What’s up?” she asked pleasantly.
“Do you have a minute? I brought you a mocha,” he said reaching down to the table behind him and producing the coffee.
“Uh, sure. Thanks,” she replied. “I think the interview room is open. C’mon.”
She led the way to a small room with a round table and four maple captain’s chairs. He sat down at the table and she joined him.
“Normally I wouldn’t bother you at work. I’m sorry for that, but I don’t have a lot of time.”
“That’s okay. What’s going on?” she asked with concern, sipping the mocha and noticing how uncharacteristically serious he was. “Is something wrong?”
“Well, no—and yes, in a way. Look, CM, I’m leaving for California. This afternoon. I got a job offer that, well, it’s an incredible offer.” He looked down briefly, then continued. “To be honest with you, my first inclination was to ask you to go with me,” he said, looking directly into her subdued blue eyes. “But I knew that wouldn’t fly with you. And because of that fact, I decided to take the transfer and head back home. The main reason I’m here, CM, is to tell you I’ve been falling in love with you, but I know you don’t feel the same. It’s been fairly difficult these past couple months to carry on the way it’s always been with us, so I figured I’d just leave you alone and maybe you can find someone who floats your boat or whatever. Or maybe you won’t have to be encumbered with a ‘relationship’ at all. Anyway, I figured I’d just head out and spend a week with my folks and then get started on my new job.”
CM hated the tears flooding her eyes were making it impossible to speak. There seemed to be a plug in her throat, and she knew if she dared to pull it, a dam of emotion would leave her in an ocean of weeping. So she simply nodded.
Matthew Preston pushed his handsome 6 ft. frame out of the chair and stood, looking down at the woman he loved—more like a girl in a lot of ways, he thought. Truthfully, he was relieved to see her choked up. He’d half expected her to congratulate him with an enthusiastic smile and wish him well. He reached down and pulled her up to him.
“If you change your mind, I’ll be waiting,” he said sadly. Then he took her face in his strong hands and kissed her lips tenderly. “I love you, CM.” Then he walked out of the room and down the hall, leaving her to her life.

Matthew Earl Preston had decided a month ago to take this new job—to relocate back in his home state of California. So, by the time he told his company that he’d accept their lucrative offer, his younger brother James had agreed to take over his lease and apartment, and they squared it all up with the manager. His parents were looking forward to spending time with Matt and having him around the area again.
His first thoughts upon receiving this promotion went immediately to CM. He’d already determined she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with—no one had achieved that status in his life, although many had certainly tried. Until she dropped her Tully’s double mocha on his brand new shoes as she rushed out of the coffee shop one early rainy morning on her way to work, he’d convinced himself he was having fun playing the field. He smiled as he remembered the mixed expressions instantaneously crossing her face at that moment. First, there was utter disdain that someone had gotten in her way and wasted her full mocha when she was in such a hurry. Then as she looked up to see who this scalawag might be, she was obviously taken aback by his handsomeness—this blondish 6 ft. man dressed in a black cashmere overcoat, exposing a pinstriped suit. Those shoes had cost him $350.00.
“I—oh, I’m sooo sorry,” she stammered, her hands almost transfixed in a surrendered position. “Uh, let me get some napkins,” she said as she turned around quickly to head back into the shop and nearly separated another patron from his fancy cup of coffee.
At that point, Matt had smiled at her and gently led her by the arm out of the way and back into the coffee shop. “It’s alright,” he’d said kindly. “They’re just shoes, you know.”
She’d blushed a hot shade of red and apologized again. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked, exaggerating her hand gestures in complete embarrassment.
“Well, yeah, now that you mention it, there is,” he’d replied with some seriousness and then nearly burst out laughing as he watched a new expression of sheer panic appear on her face. “You can let me replace what you dropped.”
It didn’t register on her face for a few seconds what he was proposing, but when it did, she replied, “Oh, no. I couldn’t let you do that—it was my fault. Too big a hurry as usual. Always cutting it too close, you know? No—let me buy yours this morning,” she’d added, fumbling in her purse for her wallet. “It’s the least I could do.”
Gently he had stopped her search. “I insist.”
She’d blushed again and remained silent.
“Since you’re in a hurry, I won’t keep you, but here’s my card,” he’d offered, reaching smoothly into his inside coat pocket. “I’d like an opportunity to talk to you. Do you come here every morning?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Then I’ll meet you here tomorrow, say 6 AM?” he suggested, looking at his watch. “What are you having?” he asked as they arrived at the counter.
Once they got their coffees, he gave her his last pitch. “I know you’re in a hurry, so I’ll be waiting here tomorrow morning. See you then, alright?” He hadn’t waited for her answer.
She’d stood there with her mouth ready to make an excuse but unable to get one formulated in the brief time he gave her to decide.
Matt smiled at the memory. That was a year and a half ago—it seemed like a couple of weeks ago in more ways than one. It seemed that way because he remembered the way he felt when she finally looked up at him after dousing his shoes. She wanted to snarl but was overcome by what he looked like, and it gave him a charge he hadn’t expected—not because of the effect he had on her because, honestly, he was used to getting the double takes from females—but rather because of the effect she had on him. There was this undeniable look of innocence in her eyes, something so rare in nearly every woman he knew these days. She was only 5’ 4” tall and had a slender frame. Her medium brown naturally curly hair was still wet from her morning shower or from the rain outside, and her blue eyes were absolutely penetrating when she’d looked up into his. He was captivated by her being flustered and couldn’t wait to have some time with her, but he sensed the only plausible thing to do with her would be to meet her in a public setting on familiar turf—asking her out would’ve endangered any further contact with her, and he was right about that he later learned once they’d started dating. But, it also seemed like their first encounter had only been a short time ago because once they’d gotten to a certain point in their relationship, CM shut down and what might have grown into true intimacy never materialized on her part. She drew this invisible line in their relationship and refused to cross it, and although she kept redefining the line for Matt, she would never let him cross it either.
The last couple of months had been especially hard for Matt. He was convinced he loved her and wanted to marry her, but talk of any commitment was beyond that sacred line, and rather than risk her running off, he remained quiet and endured. Until he just couldn’t do it anymore. When the job offer came up, he waited for the opportune moment to bring up the possibility of her joining him in his endeavor, but it became clear to him that that special moment was not going to happen, and he began to realize that having her only partially involved in his life was not what he wanted. He couldn’t take the casual relationship anymore. He was a firm believer in moving forward—treading water was tiresome and pointless—something you did only when you hoped to be rescued. Clearly, she wasn’t throwing him a lifeline.

Taken from Sweet Release (2005; written by Nicole Petrino-Salter)

Trust Issues

If you’re a parent and considering going out for a long-awaited evening with your spouse sans children, you have to trust whoever you’re allowing to take care of said children. Otherwise you’ll be fretting instead of enjoying that steak dinner and good flick, making every excuse to pull out that cell phone and skip the movie. It ends up being no fun, and you don’t look forward to doing it again anytime soon until you can find a trustworthy sitter.

If you’re a female needing to get your car fixed, you want to go to a shop where the guys aren’t licking their chops and racking up the $ signs in their eyes when they see you coming. You want to trust you’ll get an honest evaluation and estimate from the person who you hope will fix your car for a reasonable price.

If you’re a single guy who loves the Lord and you’ve just invited a gal from your church to go out with you, you want to trust she has the same views of respectful conduct as you do and hope she isn’t eager to entice you with what she’s chosen to wear.

Well, how ‘bout this? If you’ve labored over a novel, read it several times with separation in between, tweaked it, tied up loose ends, inserted more powerful and meaningful language at every opportunity, absolutely love the characters, are satisfied with the plot, and have allowed a number of different people to read it, all of them coming back with good and varied reports of how it touched them . . . if you’ve done all this, do you trust the people to whom you will send your query, synopsis, proposal? Because in this business, you have to. Like it or not, you have to trust the professionals, right?

These are the professionals many of whom will not give you a clue why they’re passing on your novel. These are the professionals who don’t have time to get beyond a few sentences in your query letter in some cases because they’ve got at least a hundred more to read after yours. These are the professionals who encourage you to attend a writer’s conference to meet them face-to-face because that’s the best and maybe only way to be remembered among the hundreds of wannabes just like yourself. These are the professionals who request a partial or a full manuscript and then you won’t hear from them for possibly a few months—or maybe never. These are the professionals whose tastes in literature are as varied as the people who submit to them. These are the professionals who might love Hemingway and you write like Jane Austen. You getting my drift here?

Do you trust the system of publishing? It is as difficult today to find an agent as it is a publisher, and there are a handful of crooked agents out there, too. Yet, for the most part, you won’t be allowed to submit a manuscript to a publishing house without an agent anymore except through connecting with an editor at a writer’s conference. The good agents are generally full up with clients, desiring to take on a few new folks, preferably recommended by another author they know and respect or one who can boast of an enviable platform.

Trusting the system seems the logical choice for aspiring writers. No? Hopeful creators of a manuscript, or even more than one, polish it up and decide to take on the industry, certain they can measure up to the high standards demanded of them by those who are in charge of the keys to publishing gold. Willing to send their lamb to the slaughter of a well-known agent or editor, they wait for months for a rejection letter or an e-mail apology for the form-letter-rejection. Now this scenario does not apply to every agent or editor. Some are kind and careful to encourage or instruct or to take the time to suggest. However, these thoughtful ones are not the norm.

Now for everyone I’ve discouraged, take heart in the fact that if God is directing you to solicit your work, He will find a home for it. He is the giver of good and perfect gifts. He knows what His desires for your work will accomplish and exactly how He intends to choreograph that dance number. You must work hard to obey his instruction. If He takes you through the fire and deep waters, He will go with you. If He leads you beside still waters, it will be refreshing to drink deep. Just be sure to proceed with Him in front of you because if you try to lead, it might feel like “success” at some point, but it will not be.

I have trust issues with the system of publishing, but that’s just me. Could be I just don’t understand the whys and wherefores, but regardless of the reason, the system is what it is, and it works well for some and not so much for others.

Father, I DO trust you. Praise God. And I intend to follow where you lead, so help me to do just that. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please continue to pray for Kristy Dykes.*

A-Favor-for-a-Friend-Meme

Kay over at Loop de Loops in La La Land tagged me with this meme. It's pretty simple. I just have to give reasons why it's great to be me. She thinks we all need to occasionally do this because it can be very easy to dwell on “why it stinks to be me”.

Sooo . . .

It’s great to be me because . . .

Jesus loves me, this I know.

God has used, is using, and will use me for His glory, somehow, some way.

Passionate is who I am.

My husband is a handsome hunk who is a man of God.

My sons serve the Lord with their whole hearts.

My daughter-in-law is a treasure, a gift from our Lord.

My three grandchildren love Jesus, love me, and are truly lovely children.

My parents were the most loving and best parents a child could hope to have.

I loved my wonderful grandmother, Lila, the only grandparent I got to know.

I was born and live in the greatest country in the world. USA, USA, USA!

I write novels!

My friends love me. Thanking God for them (including my cyberspace friends).

If you are my friend, I love you with my whole heart.

I read novels.

I have two retired Thoroughbreds, both born and raised on this place.

I got to spend over 30 years working with the most beautiful and courageous breed of horses God has ever made.

It is a blessing to be in the church we’re in right now after leaving our previous church.

I know Robert Liparulo!

(Recurring word/theme: Love)

Feel free to add on . . . as if . . .

Father, I thank you everyday for allowing me the privilege to live in this country, to have had the most wonderful parents, to have lived and loved and seen both sides of good and evil and know that you love me anyway. You are who I am most thankful for—you redeemed me and made me whole. May I always serve you in the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please continue to pray for Kristy Dykes.*

The Big IF . . .

IF we write it, will they come? IF we market it, will they buy? IF we blog about it, will they be intrigued? IF we offer a free copy, will they take it? IF they read it, will they like it?

And that’s where we are today. The reading of that novel you’ve invested maybe years in writing . . . The question remains: Who is your audience? An interesting thing about authors and novels is a reader might like one or more of their books but not like all of them. Those of us who are avid readers can attest to this fact. Now we might have read upward of four or five novels from a favorite author, but along comes number six and we’re disappointed. We don’t like it. It happens to the best in the business. No writers can please everyone all the time—even their devoted fans. Writers do evolve, and many writers try new things—their approaches, their styles, even their deliveries and topics.

Sometimes it’s intentional—they want to try a new angle to a story stirring in their heads. They write it. They pick up new readers as a result—those who’ve never read their previous works perhaps. They lose some old faithfuls because the new effort doesn’t resonate. The faithful most likely will stick around for the next book giving the author the benefit of their doubt, but some will simply move on to someone new. When authors change their work in significant ways, they do run the risk of losing some of their devoted customers.

Still, an author must move in the direction of his creativity. Certainly not smugly but with a heart for hearing from the Spirit in his/her life. The reasons for writing are multiple, and although sometimes definable, not always tangible. What inspires one writer bores another, and what blesses one reader will strike another as mundane.

So, back to “the audience”. As an author, do you really want just anyone picking up your work to read? After spending all that time, energy, hope, and effort, do you want someone who prefers chick lit reading your thriller? Unlikely to happen, but I once read a speculative faith novel (and the “faith” here is a loose application) because I misunderstood the premise, thinking it was more supernatural than speculative. Hear me when I say the author is a good writer, but I really didn’t like the novel. It was the first in a trilogy, and I won’t be reading the final two installments. I was not the intended audience. This is important. In so many ways.

If, as a reader, you enjoy the “way” a writer writes or the themes of a particular author, and the plots of the stories are somewhat secondary to those factors, chances are you will like whatever the author creates. If, as a reader, you want plausible action-packed plots and your favorite author writes a subdued story dealing with a romantic tragedy, chances are you either won’t pick up the book in the first place or you’ll try it out believing it couldn’t possibly be lacking in the trademark fast-paced storyline—and then be disappointed when it is.

This audience thing is a critical factor in marketing to those readers who will actually appreciate your book. Because you could have a glorious marketing scheme, a fantastic website or blog, be one of those lavish gift-givers to bookstore managers in a radius of three states, but if you’re not reaching those readers who will ultimately love your novel, look out.

I reluctantly gave my second novel to a woman who didn’t read fiction. After she’d heard several others talking up the story, she asked to read it. I asked her if she was sure about it because I knew of her non-fiction reading diet. Oh yes, she was sure. I gave her a copy of the manuscript and several months later, she’d read about 65 pages and “couldn’t get into it”. All the praise for the novel which I’d received vanished. The fear factor soared. She was not my intended audience, and I wished I’d never given it to her.

Probably more than anyone I know, I include a list of disclaimers for my work (not conducive to marketing, I might add). I write Christian fiction, non-traditional romance, focusing on relationship between man and woman and between God and people. Characters in my novels are saints and sinners, sometimes both at the same time. They’re real, and their inner conflicts are explored as their outer relationships are shaped by life’s circumstances. Not all Christians should read my work. There are those who will be offended by some of my characters at where they are or where they’ve come from in their lives. I cover love, sex, and romance from a secular viewpoint contrasting them to God’s views. This is what the Lord has given me to write about, and I do it honestly having come out of the world with firsthand knowledge of the subject.

My first novel (Hope Of Glory) has horse racing as its prominent backdrop, a novel borne out of a committed offering to God of any possible writing talent He might’ve given me. His succinct instruction to write a Christian novel about horse racing sent me on an 8 and ½ year writing journey. The second novel (The Famous One) was formed from a heavy burden for a particular actor’s soul and in some small ways is autobiographical. These two novels are completely different in size, subject, time frame, pacing, and some points of view. But the theme I mentioned above is there, interwoven through the stories along with the gospel. There are five more novels to follow them, all different yet similar.

So if you like books about the entertainment industry, it doesn’t mean you’ll necessarily like a story about horse racing or vice versa. And if you enjoy light fare and laughter, rip-snorting humor, or madcap adventure, you’re not my audience. If you need a thriller to stimulate your reading pleasure, you’re not my audience (although a personal friend of mine will make an exception to read my novel). If you desire to be transferred back in time to any part of history for a story, you’re not my audience. If dragons or faeries or shape-shifters or who knows what from the imagination rushes you to another place, planet, and time(s), you’re not my audience. But . . . if you want contemporary stories that deal directly with life-like characters, both in Christ and without Christ, in real circumstances facing temptations and the trials of this world, you might be my audience.

The big IF resides in will this audience like my voice, my style, my throwback structuring of the novels I write?

Father, you provide the words, the stories, and the audience. You know who that audience is—the one for whom these stories were designed. I’m trusting you to get them to those you’ve chosen to read them. Thank you for the pleasure and privilege of writing them. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please don’t forget to pray for Kristy Dykes. She’s a real person battling for her life. She needs our prayers. Thank you.*

The Buzz . . .

Over at Rebecca Luella Miller’s blog “A Christian Worldview of Fiction”, she is doing a series on creating a “buzz” about books on blogs, and if you’re a fan of Becky’s blog, you know when she does a series, she covers all the bases.

For every attempt to create a stir about a to-be-published novel or one that is just being released, there are successes and failures. One of the ways publishers market a book is by sending ARCs, better known as an Advanced Reader Copy in the biz, to selected readers. I’m not completely sure what warrants being a selected reader of some books, but all I had to do for a recent ARC from Athol Dickson was to reply to a post on his blog and agree to speak about the story on my blog. The novel arrived the other day, and I read it and just finished my review of the book to appear here either in the final week of March or the first week in April. I will tell you this: I thoroughly enjoyed this one.

Most of you who are seriously involved with writing a novel are forced—or will be—to consider the various means of marketing. For those of us with self-promotion issues, this is particularly difficult. And for those of us who do not hold degrees in Business/Administration/Marketing, it gets even worse. And for those of us with very limited funding to engage in self-promotion/marketing, it’s downright absurd. However, it is part of the publishing machine, so if you plan anytime soon on submitting a query or proposal, you better have some marketing schemes in mind.

In a way “schemes” is not too far from reality either. Because what works in one segment of the reading culture just might not even create the slightest interest in another. Forget about the mentioning of booksignings at your local Christian bookstores or at Barnes & Noble or Borders. For the most part, these endeavors have proven to sell very few books regardless of the fabulously decorated display tables, free gifts in the form of chocolate, latte coupons, or custom bookmarks. It has been the norm of recent times to literally bribe the managers of said stores with goodie baskets and free book copies, your winning smile and promises of untold loyalties to spending those yet-to-be-earned dollars from your book on someone else’s books in their stores. A wee bit cynical, you think?

You will mail hundreds of post cards with your book’s cover on the picture side of the note and on the back all the info about when it will be released with the blurb and where they can order it. If you can design them with your computer and print them out yourself, you will save yourself hundreds of dollars because they’re expensive when a print shop does them.

You will travel hither and yon making your face and fiction offering known to untold sellers of books. Do we need to discuss the price of gas or air travel? How ‘bout the discomfort of buses or the inaccessibility of trains?

I know you all are far more creative than me. And whatever your method of operations, I hope it works to the max for you.

Recently on his blog, Chip MacGregor mocked self-publishing for the obvious reasons and for the most telling reason against such an endeavor and that is the marketing factor. Unless you’re a whiz at the biz of marketing/publicity, you are at an even greater disadvantage with the marketing factor in self publishing. Now any major POD or self-publisher has a publicity department which will offer you any number of packages which you can PURCHASE in addition to the costs of paying them to publish your book. Any way you look at this marketing issue, it’s gonna cost ya.

An editor once had the audacity to tell me one of the most famous Christian authors spent 10 grand (yes, folks, $10,000) of his/her own money to produce little booklets to send around to stores to announce the coming release of the latest book. Uh-huh, I can do that.

So how powerful for sales and interest is the blog buzz concerning a new novel’s release? What if that’s all you’ve got? A blog buzzzzzz . . . Think it’ll work? We shall see . . .

God, we trust in you, and we look to you for direction in these matters. Apart from you we can do nothing. That much we know. So we do seek your guidance and instruction, and we ask for the obedience to do as you tell us. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please continue to pray for Kristy Dykes.*

No Real Atonement

Much as mankind might think he can make amends for his wrongdoing and even strive to do so, it will not happen. I knew the film "Atonement" [Golden Globe winner for Best Drama] was adapted from a novel written by Ian McEwan, but I didn’t know Mr. McEwan proclaimed himself an atheist. I learned this on Mike Duran’s blog “Decompose” where he reviewed this movie, too (http://mikeduran.com/).

I didn’t read Mike’s review until I viewed the film which takes place starting out in England during the World War II era, so afterward when I read the background information Mike provided in his account, everything suddenly made sense.

This is a haunting film from beginning to end. While initially set in idyllic splendor with the exception of rather daunting hallways of an estate’s mansion where a young precision stepping girl sets about on her missions of self-serving writing adventures and mischievous ploys, she discovers through an upstairs window the focus of her romantic crush in a circumstance with her older sister. After a tussle involving an expensive vase with the handsome young man (Robbie) several years older than the younger sister (Briony, appropriately pronounced Briney), her older sister Cecilia removes her outer clothing to retrieve the handle of the broken vase in the water of a fountain-like structure. When Cecilia surfaces with the piece, her clothing reveals her near nakedness to the young man who stares transfixed before remembering to politely turn away as she once again covers herself with her outer garment.

This incident provides an agonizing series of multiple note typing by the young man attempting to apologize for his behavior concerning the vase. After all, they’re from “different stations” in life as Cecilia replies to Briony’s earlier inquiry when she’s asked if she likes Robbie, the gardener’s son. After many discarded letters, the frustrated young man writes a vulgar but passionate note regarding his true desires and laughs at the conclusion to it without crumpling and tossing it as he has the many others. He then writes the perfect apology and signs the note, but somehow as he’s preparing the note for envelope, he inserts the vulgar note and deposits it with Briony, asking for her assistance in delivering the epistle to her sister. It is only afterward that he realizes he has inserted the wrong letter.

Briony, of course, cannot resist reading it on her way to deliver it and in fair distress hands it to her sister during a meeting of a guest her brother has brought to the estate. Cecilia realizes Briony has read the note before presenting it to her and is mortified after reading it herself. However, Cecilia is also attracted to its blatant sexuality and after Robbie arrives for a special party that evening, he later discovers Cecilia in the library where they admit their feelings to one another and proceed to a sexual encounter, the curious and seemingly ever present Briony discovering them poised in the aftermath.

In the young girl’s mind her object of affection has become her betrayer, and she is soon able to betray him. That very night he is whisked off the estate in a police car asserting both his confusion and his innocence. Cecilia has no doubt of his truthfulness and suspects her little sister has fabricated the claims of his involvement in the supposed crime.

Keira Knightley is perfect in what begins as both a smug and sensual role in spite of her anorexic appearance. James McAvoy captures the just right mixture of a young stud with a genuine heart later transformed by the incident and the war to a broken and wounded young man , while the little sister played by Saoirse Ronan is intermittently haughty and vulnerable, conniving and naïve.

Once in a great while, I remember what it felt like to watch films such as this without the light of salvation. There were many years where movies just like this one would’ve resonated with me and given me pause. However, within the light of Truth this film strives to suggest something it cannot prove because of its failed premise and title.

Told in multiple flashbacks of the current results of past actions, the viewer is often unsettled and confused as to the reality of either past or present events. Cinematically, contrasting the supposed bliss and beauty of the country estate to the second part mostly filmed in the brown-tone of old photographs, we slide downward quickly amidst the brutal and torturous scenes of war. We begin to suspect the worst but are given flashes of hope that all will be righted before film’s end. The movie’s score and soundtrack is as much a part of the message as are the scenes, and it’s compelling to hear it used as an accompanying character. I do think at times the camera dwells too long on mood shots of the characters' profiles. We get the nuances of their expressions without excessive focus.

The conclusion is dramatic and stunning, the much older Briony played impressively by the veteran Vanessa Redgrave. It reminds us that life is often cruel and vicious and certainly not redemptive when left to the likes of humanity. We rationalize and justify our mistakes and errors and never equivocate them to sin—thereby never needing a redeemer. There is no real atonement in this movie because there is no Savior for these unclaimed sins. It might better have been called “Justice”.

Thank you, God, for the amazing talents you’ve distributed to all kinds of peoples. If only they would look to you and give thanks for those gifts and in turn give glory to you when they create. Help me to give any kind of praise I might receive to you, in the Name of Jesus.

*Please continue to pray for Kristy Dykes.*

Sunday's Offerings

"I looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found none. So I will pour out my wrath on them and consume them with my fiery anger, bringing down on their own heads all they have done, declares the Sovereign Lord."

Ezekiel 22:30-31 (NIV)

*Please remember to pray for Kristy Dykes.*

If we write it . . . will they come?

And buy? And like? And recommend?

These are the questions of writers. If we write this novel, will there actually be people who will want to read it and then read more of our work? How do we truly know if our work is genuine? How can we be objective? What does it take for us to evaluate our work? Are we a good judge of talent period, let alone our own?

We all have varying tastes. Sometimes we will acknowledge when something less than admirable resonates with us, but mostly we want to be associated with making fairly astute judgments of written material. There is no telling what will grab hold and take off in the world of writing novels. While maybe there is a general assumption of some works written by well known authors, any professional worth his salt will tell you it’s a crap shoot. How else can it be explained when inferior writing sells millions of books?
(Which brings up a whole ‘nother argument about quality vs. inferior writing—one we’re not going to address yet again here.)

At some point a person has to decide if he/she can write. This “point”, however, can only come after having learned the basics of the craft. A person has to know fundamental grammar, understand storytelling, and be well read. By “well read” I simply mean the person must be an avid reader. Having read the classics does not necessarily mean you can write in today’s world. How it will help you to have read some of them is to aid in defining who you are as a writer by establishing whose writing you enjoy, appreciate, or detest. The same can be said for reading contemporary authors and finding favorites among them. There’s something exciting about discovering an author who captures your attention—and this can be done by the writing itself or by the story itself. Sometimes it can be either/or, but when it’s both, it’s a bonanza. A reader who favors literary works will put up with a lesser or low key plot, while a reader who’s slanted in favor of action and events will forgo a high level of writing to be tantalized by a vivid story.

A writer will develop a voice borne out of knowledge of the craft. It isn’t something you can copy—if you do, the writing will not hold up in time. It will “feel” forced and out of sync because it’s not original. All of our styles are similar to other writers—how could they not be? Writing has been going on for eons, and “there’s nothing new under the sun”. If we strive and strain to be “different”, chances are we will only arrive at bizarre. Unique is a term reserved for those whose style is generally not easy to categorize because it probably is a meshing of many instead of resembling a few.

I love various writing styles, but I have my limits. As you know, I’m not a fan of Hemingway’s writing, but he was a good storyteller. I could find nothing of pleasure and little to admire of William Faulkner’s writing—the style, the characters, everything I remember about having to read his work was tedious for me. So much so that I would never go back to it to re-evaluate if I might like it now that I’m older. Because what I used to like, I’m sure I would still like. I remember Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca, for example. Not the plot so much as the mystery and mood, the lovely language and description she used, and that was so very long ago. I remember much later loving Ken Kesey’s work—yes, one of the psychedelic generation authors, a member of The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. “You’re either on the bus or off the bus.” Woo-ooh-ooh. You will remember he wrote One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Sometimes A Great Notion. Two incredible novels. I loved his writing. And Fitzgerald. And D. H. Lawrence. And Dostoevsky. And many, many more.

Who do I write like? Hmm. I’m not sure I can say. As far as contemporary Christian authors, I could tell you who I write romance like. Not as far as their “structure” or words but as far their approach to it. And since I don’t read secular fiction anymore, I’m not sure what contemporary author I might be similar to in that arena.

What makes me think I can write—at least well enough to possibly appeal to others? Hmm. Is it insane to say because I like the way I write? Is it obnoxious to say I really like the stories I’ve written? Is it absurd to say I think within the category of my work, I could have a fair audience? Is it prideful to say I write well enough to be published? Is all of this alienating to those who are reading this? Is it defiant to say I’ve given my novels to many test readers and gotten favorable results and feedback? Are you tsking at my confessions?

Let me explain—again. I am not creative enough, like many of today’s authors are, to come up with a bunch of ideas for novels. If the Lord doesn’t give me a story, which he initiates in characters first, I have nothing. Zippo. Zero. Zilch. Ideas aren’t floating around in my head all the time. You could say to me, “This would make a good story. Why don’t you write one about this?” And I would stare at you dumbly, no doubt, because I can’t think of idea one in regard to your suggestion. The Lord puts characters in my mind where they generate other characters. I get a few phrases and sit down to write the sentences. More sentences come. More characters come. A story begins. He gets the credit. Not me. And THAT, my friends, is why I like my work. Because the stories, the characters, the messages, are His, not mine.

I’m not the best writer, but I do know the basic craft. I’ve written since I was a child. A lot. My only real interests in school were centered around English and literature. My first novel ended up being over 300,000+ words and took 8 and ½ years to write. Yes, today, it would’ve been shorter. How much shorter I can’t tell you. It is what it is.

I’m not the worst writer either. I know what I like to read and write accordingly. What else can a person say about his work? I’d be a fool to write it and not like it. Right? Seven novels of drivel? What would be the point?

But the question remains, doesn’t it? If I write it . . . will they come?

Father, you are the Creator. You are the source of creation. You get all the credit for works done well. You are the giver of life, good and perfect gifts, opportunities, and dreams. Thank you for all you’ve given me. So much. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please continue to pray for Kristy Dykes.*