Into the Fire

What readers want . . .

I have a great time finding out what readers want. I often ask them as I browse the fiction rows in bookstores. If they respond with any tangible inkling or order and it happens to coincide with what I like, I immediately recommend my choices according to their preferences.

I’ve shared with you how I evaluate “the average reader”. It’s based on my experience with several readers of all ages and discussions with many more people with either a voracious appetite for fiction or a steady pursuit of reading novels or even those who dabble at selective fiction. Readers of all kinds maintain expected various opinions, but most of them have a general desire to simply enjoy the story. Most of them will not comprehend the particular styles of writing choices from the authors they choose to read unless it’s unique and quite distinctive. For the most part it’s just not important to them.

The exceptions include those in the publishing industry and those readers who prefer what’s been termed “literary fiction” where names like Flannery O’Connor or Madeline L’Engle pop up repeatedly. If you choose CBA fiction, you’ll likely hear the names of Tom Morrisey, Tosca Lee, or Chris Fabry mentioned as artful writers.

There can be a real gap between what publishers want and what readers want. Sometimes it’s simply a matter of not getting a book the attention it merits which usually makes it a marketing problem. Sometimes it’s producing books which just don’t catch on for whatever reason. Sometimes books fail because they really aren’t that good.

Don’t misunderstand my point. I’m all for publishers producing well-written fiction, but sometimes what they consider well-written and/or commercially viable simply aren’t. The process is generally reliable and definitely valuable although interminably slow, but I still maintain it often goes under-noticed and unappreciated. The average reader might recognize skillful writing, but what they will celebrate or recommend to their like-minded friends is the story. Those overrated rules which might be observed or broken will not even register on their reading radar. Some professionals insist it’s the observance of those very rules which contribute to making the reader experience pleasant and more meaningful, but when you consider a few of the bestsellers either in ABA or CBA fiction, you know it’s just not always true.

Some writing purists and publishing professionals complain about the lack of quality in fiction and berate the absence of excellence in certain bestsellers and other novels. To what end? Books making money push the industry along and readers are the ones who spend the bucks to make the machine go. We can lament quality if we choose, but it’s all about the story for most readers.

Lord, give us the grace to appreciate the work of those who labor to serve you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Monday Mode

Hope your holiday was glorious and filled with thanksgiving. I hope the Lord felt close and breathed new life into your weary or anxious spirit. As you anticipate the gift giving of December, I hope your heart bursts with an undying love for Jesus, the Redeemer of your soul, the Rescuer of your spirit, the Retribution for your sins.

I love Christmas. The origin, the celebration, the privilege of worshipping the Christ. I’m a giver, so it’s a privilege and a pleasure to be able to shop. We’ve had lean years and years of plenty. Always blessed by the Love of God.

For any of you who have adult relatives or friends who might love horses or horse racing, I will give away five (5) copies of Hope Of Glory. Just leave a comment if you’re interested. This is a monster-size first novel, so be sure you give it to a committed reader. It’s also very much a first novel, so it’s technically imperfect. But if you know anyone who loves a saga or who isn’t afraid to read about how people really can be in their lost states, this could be a beneficial story. I will media mail the book and you should easily get it before Christmas.

I will also give away one (1) copy of The Famous One for any interested person—also definitely an adult novel. You can read about The Famous One in different posts on this blog or on my Seattle Christian Fiction Examiner page. Think “fictional biography”. Again leave a comment if you’re interested in this novel.

That’s it for this Monday.

Father, I’m desperate for you as always. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Sunday's Offerings

For it is God's will that by doing good you should silence the ignorant talk of foolish men. Live as free men, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as servants of God.

I Peter 2:15-16 (NIV)

Saturday Sample

As Hutch shod his second horse at Brady’s barn, it started to rain, proving the forecasters right.
“Man, I’m sick of this rain,” Rob Connors groaned.
“I’ve heard it rains a lot out here. The night I arrived it was pouring.”
“I’m from Arizona. This stuff drives me nuts. Last year it was pretty nice, even early on. Some of the local guys said this is more like what it’s really like.”
“We get all kinds of weather back east. One year on the first of March it was 83 degrees. The next week it was snowin’.”
“We’ll get rain once in awhile—kinda like the flash flood stuff. The rest of the time we got the sun, man.”
“So what brought you up here?”
“Well, I got a job with Brady a couple years ago when he came down to race in Arizona. He invited me to come up here with him so I did. He’s a good guy, and he pays good. At the time, I just broke up with my girlfriend and wanted to get outa there anyway. So I stayed on and went down to California with him. He didn’t go back to Arizona—he didn’t like it. Too hot for him. Too many bugs. I mean he really didn’t like it, and he said the purses weren’t good enough. I don’t blame him. You gotta like a place to stay there. This place is great when it’s not rainin’.”
“Why’d you break up with your girlfriend?”
“Ahh, well, she wasn’t a racetracker, and she was always after me to spend more time with her. When I had to run horses, she’d come down and watch ‘em run for awhile until the newness of it wore off. Then it just became a big problem eventually, so it was time to call it quits.”
“So the racetrack won out over your girlfriend?”
“Yeah. She didn’t respect what I did, you know? Hey, I worked other places. I was even asked to manage a small hardware store when I was only 21, but it wasn’t me. When I found the horses, I knew this is what I wanted to do. In another year or so, I’ll have a couple of my own to train. If I have to start out with them in Brady’s name, I will. He’s already assured me he’ll help me when I’m ready. Like I said, he’s a good guy.”
“So, how old are you, Rob?”
“I’m 24. At the end of this year, I’ll be 25. I’m learnin’ as fast as I can. Brady’s a good teacher. He’s got lots of patience, and he loves to tell people about this, that, and the other. If you show any interest in this stuff, he’ll pour it into you, you know? So he and I are a perfect fit.”
“Sounds like it.”
Hutch finished six head at Brady’s barn and headed out to his truck. As he put his tools away, a man drove up in a new red Dodge pickup with custom compartments built onto the bed.
“Name’s George Rogers. Brian said to introduce myself—that you’re okay.”
“Call me ‘Hutch’. Name’s Grady Hutchinson. Glad to meet you.”
“Look, I been shoein’ for a small stable. Deborah Pattison is the owner-trainer of almost all of them. She’s a wench, but she’s good pay. Very particular. It’s hard for me to get to her now cuz my bigger stables are fillin’ up with the meet just a month or so away from startin’. She’s in Barn 11. She’s no fun, but maybe she’ll give you some respect since you’re from back east—she’s like that. Anyway, if she likes you, she’ll treat you good.”
“Well, thanks, George. Appreciate it. She there now?”
“She’s there a lot. If she’s not there, Jipps’ll be there. He’s an older guy, does most of the work. I told her I was sendin’ someone down because I just couldn’t fit her in anymore.”
Hutch extended his hand to the shoer. “Thanks again.”
Hutch parked his truck and headed into Deborah’s shedrow ducking under the 2x4’s she had up around her area. Just as he got to the first tack room, she came out the door.
“Grady Hutchinson. George Rogers sent me down.”
Deborah sized him up without a smile. “Oh. Well, George has put me in a real bind. My good horse popped a gravel, and I need a good shoer.”
Hutch could tell this was a no-nonsense gal, so he responded appropriately. “Ma’am, I’ve been shoein’ horses on the east coast at the best tracks since I was 19 years old. I’m 30 now. I’ve been in most of the good barns for quite awhile. Quite frankly, the only reason I came out here is because my wife and I split up. It certainly wasn’t for lack of work. I’ll step out on a limb here by sayin’ you won’t find a better shoer or one more willing to work with a problem than me. It’s up to you.”
Deborah turned and as she started down the shedrow, she said, “Follow me.”
Hutch told her what he would do and why with her good horse and then proceeded accordingly with her permission. After him, he caught one more for her. She wanted to know all about the new material in the pads he had. She was impressed although she tried to hide it, but Hutch had worked with her type before. They never wanted you to think that you might actually know more than them about anything. That was fine. Whatever worked for them as long as they didn’t degrade you and paid you in full—they could think whatever they chose to think about your intelligence. Didn’t matter to him.

(cont. For His Glory; sequel to Hope Of Glory)

Hook, Line, and Sinker

Writers are continually instructed to hook the reader with a powerful first sentence and the dynamite first few paragraphs to set off a spectacular and enticing first chapter. All of us could give examples of authors who’ve done just that very well. The Ty Buchanan series by James Scott Bell comes to mind in Try Dying, Try Darkness, and Try Fear, particularly in the start of Try Darkness. So incredibly clever and well-written. But I think the major part of the instruction which Jim Bell successfully accomplishes in his series is that if you throw the knockout punch in the first few sentences and continue it throughout that first chapter, then you better be prepared to carry the reader with incredible writing all the way to the end of the story because if you use it up in the beginning, and it sags or wanes on the following pages, you’ve just created the sinker to drive that story into tedious mediocrity.

If I get jaw-dropping writing in the first chapter, I expect it to continue throughout the book. If I don’t, I’m perfectly content to either wait for it as the story develops or continue with or without interest depending on the story itself and how it’s ultimately composed. We all can agree there are some “ordinary” writers out here in literary land who won’t surprise us with their incredible prose, fantastic metaphors, or to-die-for characterizations, but they do a pretty bang-up job of telling a tale—enough to keep us turning the pages anyway.

The major hook is usually a necessity with thriller, mystery, or any kind of suspense novels. We need to be enveloped into the intrigue quickly, and with these genres we expect that intrigue to be sustained—intensely with thrillers and moderately within the other categories, depending on the story of course. If after a snappy opening, the story gears down instead of ratcheting up, we might not get amped up again until it’s too late to care. A writer sets a tone and if it’s hot and heavy from the start, he must be very careful how he gets the reader to relax through the course of the story because he risks lulling them into a snore.

The hook for a romance novel needn’t always be intense. Most romance readers are patient, waiting for their protagonists and/or heroines to emerge from good characterization. The conflict can be subtle or pronounced, but it doesn’t always have to be intense in the beginning. Good development of scene, scent, and savor—referring to the hero or heroine—requires certain attention to details. These details are far different for stories of romance than they are for stories of major mayhem. Nevertheless, the same premise applies: if you capture the heart of the reader in the first sentence, paragraph, and chapter, you better keep giving them palpitations throughout the story. Not always easy to do in a romance novel when a lot of character establishment consumes the words.

So, my conclusion? The hook and first lines should be enticing in their own unique ways, but if they’re too clever to maintain throughout the story, to be equaled in the following chapters, the result will be a “sinker” in the interest of a reader. Consistency throughout a story requires diligence. Almost all of us could write a sterling first line, paragraph and/or chapter but sustaining near perfect writing? Not so much. Find your voice, set your tone, write from who you truly are, maybe not who you perceive yourself to be . . .

Father, guide my words, my hopes, my writing, my heart. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm thankful for you.

God, thank you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Wednesday's Word

Resilient. That's the word that comes to mind when I think of how God made me.

In spite of being prone to discouragement, I'm not a person who gets depressed.

I caused a lot of my own problems earlier in my life, and, yes, there were times which felt like they'd never recover, improve, or regain order or joy, but I bounced back because of the way God made me. Even when I didn't know Him.

He implanted a kind of inner toughness which certainly didn't manifest itself in physical strength although I handled rambunctious Thoroughbreds and worked on the track for many years.

Whatever positive qualities I might possess I owe to the Lord's design. He alone gets any credit for the good in me. And the resilience He gave me.

Father, you have been so gracious to me. I am so thankful for your mercy when I don't deserve it, your grace when I so desperately need it, and your love forever and always. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

In all my years . . .

I’ve been a Christian for over 31 years. Wow. Since I came to know Jesus as an adult, readers will note I’m not young anymore. My brain might be stuck in my late 30s at times, but my body clearly has been advancing day by day with the calendar.

Many of you became Christians at early ages. Some of you grew up under the umbrella of a Christian family or the church. A few of you who did strayed wildly and then returned to the One who drew you back to Himself, or the other few of you walked in complacency until something or someone shocked you back into your spiritual reality.

Let me tell you a little of what I’ve observed along the way. Some Christians are as excited about the Lord as they are about going to work on Monday mornings. Some Christians secretly (or so they think) regret they’ve never experienced what the world has to offer so they make concessions in their walk in order to accommodate some of those desires. Some Christians perform their faith for others to see and maintain a legalistic approach to every aspect of their denomination, making it all about religion and little about relationship with Jesus. Some Christians arm themselves with a pseudo-grace in order to enable themselves and others to harbor sin and condone what they want to be okay in direct opposition to the gospel message. Some Christians manipulate the Scriptures to use them to pave the way for their hoped-for lifestyles. Some Christians have little knowledge of what the Bible really says about much of anything and choose to participate in the things they like in their respective churches, ignoring the rest of biblical truth.

What I’ve learned throughout the years can be summed up in I have no idea how big, how great, how unique, how perfect, how beyond what any man can say, describe, or articulate is God. Though He will not violate His word, He is not bound to man’s feeble interpretations of its parts. Yet there are undeniable and unmistakable necessities within His word which will not be compromised by man’s sinful desires to expand its meanings or promises. Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life and no man comes to the Father except through Him. Period. Unmovable. God’s definition of sin will not be changed or deferred or manipulated.

Having participated in much of what the world offers, I can testify the results of that participation leave one empty. Maybe not for a season, but eventually the hollow rewards turn to dust and the effects cause a search for a deeper experience, one that will anchor a vapid soul to something other than a fake prop that crumbles under the weight of examination.

I only realize the longer I live the less I know, the more vital the Lord becomes to my well-being, the more unattainable the words to depict Him, the more heavily I press into Him, and the more powerful in Him I wish to become by leaning and depending on Him alone.

Lord God Almighty, please help me to do this. I’m desperate for you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Especially for geeks: Loss of Carrier

The CFBA Tour took a unique turn in its November selections by including self-published books. If I’m not mistaken, there were three of these novels listed and distributed to readers this month. As you know, I intentionally picked a Marcher Lord Press entry to assess and in my review gave the guys two thumbs up for an entertaining story and well done book. Today I’m going to tackle a no-frills novel written and published by Russ White titled Loss of Carrier.

I checked out Russ White’s website which offers little information about the author or the origin of this novel other than to say Russ has been a network engineer, evident by the geek-speak throughout this heavily tech-laden story. On a brief dedication page in the front of the book the author gives credit to his apparent editor, bringing me to the conclusion that the story was actually edited before being printed into book form. Before I begin the review, I’d like to say I appreciate the expense of sending out books to the CFBA readers. Even choosing media mail to transport several books indicates a willingness to invest in and market his book.

Let me remind you I know all about first novels, and those of you who follow this blog have read my commentary on how some of us without a lot of initial writing experience tend to produce that “first novel feel”, especially if we elect to self-publish our work. This is precisely how self-publishing got its bad name or the stigma that’s still attached to a self-published novel. Let’s face it, the enormously successful self-published The Shack did not sport the best writing, was one long sermon couched in mostly dialogue, but it struck a chord and attained huge success. In doing so it was the exception not the rule.

Loss of Carrier is a tech-babble story with several weak plot points and a somewhat emotionally fragile protagonist whose personal pain either seems too exaggerated at times or insufficiently explained to warrant his complete lack of trust issues. The copy-editing errors are numerous indicating inferior final proofing before printing unless this ARC was not the final version of the book. Combine those editing misses with occasional poor and extensive dialogue, some grammar issues, and a conflicted protagonist who can handle a gun but not a woman and you’ve got a first novel which smacks of amateurism. The repetition and over-explanations, identifications, and manipulations of computer networking might serve the geek readers well, but the average reader will skip over much of it in search of more plot revelations.

The protagonist Jess Wirth happens upon a murder in the basement of his workplace where all the servers and the cables keep his Opti-data workplace operational. Down there to fix a technical problem, he sees a bunch of the tiles disrupted which cover the massive series of cables and when he begins to return them to their proper positions, he finds one of his coworkers strangled in a mess of yellow cables. The police are called and the man’s death is ruled a suicide. Sometime later a cleaning woman is murdered in the facility and suddenly the police are paying attention to what Jess has thought all along: the first man’s death wasn’t a suicide. There’s an additional investigation going on behind the scenes coinciding with the murders and unknown to Jess involving an attractive woman who’s caught his attention.

The setting is there for a decent mystery, but this particular story is bogged down with exorbitant tech-babble, some silliness involving flower deliveries, the extreme overuse of the initials PWC, a too-talky, preachy romantic situation, weak plot points specifically concerning the suicide/murder conflict, and some needing-more-development characterizations. Precede this with a pointless prologue featuring the first dead man’s dying moments.

I don’t know Russ White’s writing experience, but he’ll improve dramatically from this effort if he studies the work of other writers in his chosen genre. Some people need the craft books to help their writing. Others need to read more novels and absorb the techniques of the good writers. Right now Loss of Carrier is a fairly typical example of a first-time self-published novel.

Father, you know Russ’s heart. You know what you have for him to do. Lord, I pray you would direct his steps and his stories. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Sunday's Offerings

Some became fools through their rebellious ways
and suffered affliction because of their iniquities.

Psalm 107:17 (NIV)

Saturday Sample

Harry Dawson was excited about the Tuesday meetings starting up soon. Although Pastor Ron wouldn’t be able to attend as regularly as he did last year, he’d assured Harry he would attend at least once a month for sure. Pastor Gary Austerand was good for at least two a month. Both Bob Jesson and Nick Corroway were returning, having made permanent arrangements at their jobs last year for this year. The racetrack ministry had become that important to them. Cee had already completed all the new signs, and Harry and Helen would be down Saturday morning to get them put up in the barn area. The Kensingtons were hosting the inaugural meeting in the Turf Club and providing all the food for that one. Most of the worship team from Jesus Is Lord Pentecostal Assembly were coming to perform with Cee for this first meeting. The one question mark was if Julia Kensington could hold off long enough before having her baby. Her due date was supposed to be the day after the first meeting.
“Helen, could you come here a minute?” Harry called into the kitchen from the living room.
“What is it, honey?” she asked as she came around the corner.
“Is there something going on in your spirit?”
“Funny you should ask.” Her voice was quiet..
“What’s going on?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know.”
“Me either. Is it good or bad?”
“I don’t even know that, Harry. I just feel stirred up inside. I don’t know what about, and I’m not going to guess.”
“I woke up the other night asking the Lord what this is all about. I told Him I’d do it whatever it is. He hasn’t told me a thing, but I know it’s coming.”
“I would agree.”

WEDNESDAY
“Hey, Mike,” Hutch greeted him.
“Grady Hutchinson, this is my wife Sarah. She’ll be holding the first one for you. Call him ‘Hutch’, Sarah,” Michael remembered.
“Nice to meet you, Sarah.” Hutch shook her hand.
Sarah led the first one out. “This is Final Endeavor. She’s a 3 yr. old.”
“Wow, she’s a big, strong girl, huh?” He picked up her right front.
“Yeah. She’s a Kentucky-bred, and she’s got a lot of talent. Hopefully, the Lord will continue to bless her career. We were able to win two with her last year.
“Michael said you were from back east. Did you know Robert Sanders?”
“Yeah, great guy. Really like Robert.”
“He rode her and this other nice colt we had—he slabbed his knee, unfortunately.”
“Oh, man, that’s too bad.”
“Yeah, that was hard for us. That colt was our first stakes winner. Somehow the Lord got us through it. We were grateful for the experience and all, and he’s got a great life now.”
“You know, I was talking to Pete Keppler, the vet, the other day. He said somethin’ about Robert gettin’ married last year, and that he and his wife are Christians now. Is that what you are, too?”
Sarah smiled to herself. “Yeah. It was weird, Hutch. Within a very short period of time last year at this meet, a bunch of us met Jesus Christ. You know, Pete probably told you that Melissa, Robert’s wife, got hurt. Well, she was unconscious for a day or two, and she had this incredible experience that basically showed her what hell was like. Robert was already a Christian at that point but just barely. Anyway, she met Jesus in this experience, but the absolutely incredible thing was that later on in the meet this bug girl named Nancy West was in a terrible spill—the filly she was riding won the race and snapped her leg off right at the wire, fell on Nancy and a bunch of horses ran over her. She should have died. Nancy goes into a coma. Melissa goes to visit her fairly early on in the coma and spends time with her telling her about her own experience while she was unconscious. While she’s telling her, she feels this trace of a movement with Nancy’s finger when Melissa asks her a question, and Melissa knows she’s responding and that God’s going to heal her. Well, like Melissa, Nancy wasn’t saved when she went down. In fact, she was only just barely married to another rider named Rick Masterson. Anyway, she wakes up knowing Jesus Christ, too. I could tell you a bunch of incredible things that happened here last year. Real bona fide miracles. If you didn’t have the people around to verify them, you would never believe them. God was just amazingly present at The Willow last year.”
“I gotta admit it sounds a little strange.”.
“I know it does. Do you believe in God?”
“I don’t know. I guess I believe there’s gotta be somethin’ better than man.”
“Yeah, that’s where I was at exactly. Beyond that, I didn’t know what to think, I guess.”
“You serious?”
“Oh, yeah, absolutely.”
“Well, how did you get from there to here?”
“Are you sure you want to hear this story?”
Hutch laughed. “Hey, I’ve got three and a half feet left on this one. You’ve got a captive audience.”
Sarah laughed. “That’s the best kind. Seriously, though, there’s nothing I’d rather tell you about, but I don’t want you dreading coming to the Lawrence barn because ‘they’re just going to shove Jesus down my throat’.”
“Hey, one thing I will do,” Hutch said, standing up and turning to face her, gently draping his arm across the big filly’s back. “I’ll be honest with you. I’m not the greatest guy in the world, but I’m not going to lie to you. To tell you the truth, you’ve got me curious now. I mean, Robert Sanders is one of the few people in racing I’d come to admire—no offense by that either. And don’t get me wrong—I love the people—but, geez, some of them are just so dirty low down, and I just haven’t found a lot of ‘em to look up to, ya know?”
“I know exactly what you mean, and I agree 100%. Here’s my story.” Hutch returned to his foot as Sarah went all the way back to the reasons for her and Michael’s separation, led him through Harry and Helen’s wedding ceremony, the personal results of that, and all through the miraculous events of last year at The Willow up to their current conversation and why she knew it wasn’t a coincidence.
Inside one of the stalls as Michael groomed the last horse, he listened and prayed that Sarah’s words would have an impact on this horseshoer from far away who had been sent into their lives at this particular time. Soon it would be his turn to talk to him.
“Wow, you do nice work. Her feet look really good. She doesn’t hit the ground hard—just the opposite, really, but I bet she’ll appreciate that pad. That’s a new material, isn’t it?” Michael asked, viewing the finished product before Sarah put the filly away.
“Yeah. This old fella, retired horseshoer, lives in upstate New York. He’s got his own shop, and he’s always tryin’ to come up with new ways to make it easier on these horses. He actually had to manufacture this material. He knew what he had in mind, but he couldn’t get it right for a couple years. Combined materials and worked on their fabrication. Anyway, this is what he was striving for, and he’s got a patent on it. He tried it out on the bush tracks in the winter. Said it was phenomenal—that it’s exactly what he was searchin’ for. He actually gave me my first supply, then I bought a bunch before I came out here, and I can see I’m going to have to re-order already. Everybody wants to try ‘em out. So, we’ll see if it satisfies people out here.”
“I’ll get the 2 yr. old for you.”
“Hutch, it was great talking to you. Thanks for listening to my story.”
“Hey, it was my pleasure, and I appreciate you tellin’ me.”
“Michael, I’m going home after I set feed.”
“Okay. I won’t be too far behind.”
“You guys seem to work pretty good together,” Hutch observed as he started in on the colt’s foot.
“Yeah, for the most part, we do, but we have our moments. A whole lot less of them than we used to, that’s for sure.”
“My wife and I didn’t get much time to work together. I was always so busy shoein’.”
“Oh—is your wife here?”
“No. We got divorced just before I came out here. Actually, that’s why I came out here.”
“Wow, I’m really sorry to hear that, Hutch. You okay with it?”
“No, I’m not. I screwed up. Didn’t mean to but I should’ve known—should have seen it comin’. I don’t know. I get so danged wrapped up in my work—it’s like that’s all there is. The hours slip away. The people keep demandin’ more time. Ahh, hell, there’s no excuse. I screwed up.”
“Tell me about it. Man, I came so close to losin’ my wife it scares me. She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved, you know?”
“Yeah, I do know. Same with me. Only I wasn’t so lucky.”
“Any kids involved?”
“No, fortunately, but we were contemplatin’. Man, I just really blew it.”
Michael could hear the deep regret in the shoer’s voice. He empathized, too. He remembered that feeling just like it had happened yesterday.
“Any chance she might reconsider?”
“Not her. She was dead set on it. Mostly I think because she didn’t believe me. I was a jerk before I met her. Really chased the ladies. Well, I was shoein’ for this one gal, and this strange incident happened—like I said, I should’ve seen it comin’. Anyway, my wife saw just enough to assume the worst, and I don’t blame her for that. But the truth is I didn’t do anything—I just allowed myself to get caught in a compromising situation. I woulda thought the same thing if it had been her instead of me. I can’t blame her, but I didn’t lie to her. I guess under the circumstances the truth seemed stranger than the lie. It was ugly. So, here I am in Washington. Seems like a lifetime away. Sometimes it doesn’t even feel like it’s me here.”
“I can relate to that, man.”
Michael listened as Hutch began to express some of his pain and regret. Occasionally, he’d ask the shoer a question, but mostly he just let him talk. When he was done with the colt, Michael asked him if he’d like to come over for dinner sometime.
“Sarah’s a good cook, and we love to have people over.”
“That’d be alright. It really would. You need me tomorrow, right? We got two more then?”
“Yeah, if you could. Is the same time okay?”
“You bet. I’ll be here. And thanks for listenin’,” Hutch said, his embarrassment apparent.
“That’s easy, Hutch. See ya tomorrow.”

(cont. For His Glory; sequel to Hope Of Glory)

What you like . . .

. . . is what you like. None of us should have to apologize for what we like to read. Well . . . most of us anyway. Yes, we can indulge ourselves in guilty pleasures and admit the folly of our ways to our friends and fellow readers with all the pat and reasonable excuses for wasting our time with such novels. Or we can refuse to be ashamed of anything we read and dare anyone we tell to give us a raised eyebrow or a condescending smirk.

My guilty pleasure has been reduced to romance novels, which is very strange to regard them as such since I write them. However, my romance novels don’t fall into category romance, and I’m not sure I read many of those anymore. And, really, I don’t feel guilty for anything I read. Perhaps it would be more understandable to admit my new guilty pleasures are Vince Flynn’s books, but I’ve only read his latest and enjoyed it very much. No, I didn’t enjoy the f-bombs, but the story was a thrill, dynamic, patriotic, and entertaining. So there.

Within the genres I read I love variety—in everything. Voice, style, POVs, you name it. I applaud creativity and daring. I’m a rule breaker and when it’s done well, hurray for the author.

This leads me to a conflict I seem to have with certain editors. Not all by any stretch. Just the comments of a few indicate they adhere to their rules and assume their opinions of writing are irrefutable. Unbending. Their explanations for their opinions make sense of course, but their insistence that other methods are inferior just rubs me the wrong way.

So many different stories and approaches to writing them out there . . . So many opinions of what’s good and what isn’t. Variety is necessary. Formulaic is not attractive. I celebrate the differences in writers. If I don’t care for a novel, it doesn’t mean someone else won’t love it. After all, you like what you like. That’s all there is to it.

Father, help us to not pick each other apart. To be fair. To be kind. To be honest. I’m desperate for you, Lord. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Traveling on a . . . Lost Mission

Most serious readers of Christian Fiction recognize the name of Athol Dickson, associating him with an uncanny four nominations for a Christy Award and winner of the award twice for River Rising and The Cure. Other novels include They Shall See God and Winter Haven plus a memoir titled The Gospel According to Moses. His current novel Lost Mission, published by Howard Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, became available to me through a promotion on agent Rachelle Gardner’s blog post with the author.

Lost Mission presents a calculated risk by literary writer Athol Dickson. Told in a roaming omniscient point of view mixed with traditional third person POV, reading this story is like listening to a translation of an epic tale on the knee of an old relative whose native language is not English. With heavy emphasis on both old and newer practices within the Spanish Catholic church, the story weaves back and forth with little separation between the 18th century Alta California and present-day southern California and brief inclusions of small-town Mexico. Even with Athol Dickson’s picturesque writing, the consistent tone of the story sometimes makes it difficult to stay focused. This could very well be because of my general dislike for historical novels, not because of the story or the writing itself. It’s a long novel for Athol Dickson and the author insinuates its first draft consisted of even more rambling.

A naïve but devout young woman decides through a series of what she determines to be prophetic events to venture over the Mexican border into America to save the heathens who live here. As most illegal immigrants do, she risks her life to gain access to this country not for the wealth and opportunity it offers but on a mission of salvation for the innumerable lost souls. Her only real possession of value is an ancient unfinished but miraculous three-sectioned painting kept in its sacred location by the priest of the church in her town and passed along to her because of the prophetic mission she knows she must make. Meeting another fellow sojourner along the way, she agrees to follow the group of Mexicans attempting a border crossing at a distance. In the heat of the desert she becomes separated from them and clutching her icon she continues until her water is gone and she can no longer travel. She experiences a brief vision of a man with shining black hair, but it is a young American who rescues her and nurses her back to health. He is as naïve and devout in his Protestant faith as she is in hers and together they begin Sanctuario which ministers to a community of mostly illegal immigrants.

As time passes and they share the teaching of each other’s language and ministry, the young woman “Lupe” fights her feelings for the young minister “Tucker” and leaves to continue her mission to the lost Americans. Several miles away in an affluent beachside town she attempts to reach the people she passes, but they ignore her.

Interspersed and intersecting with past and present lives from an original Spanish Mission, we meet its founders and their connection to the characters in the modern day location. Lupe’s life encounters many strange occurrences as she examines her mission and fears its abject failure. The years move along, she preaches every Sunday morning at the beach to no interested listeners, and her rich employer and his daughter treat her as a member of their family until tragedy, prejudice, fear, and vengeance interfere with several of the characters’ views and actions. The man with the shining hair and the three-sided painted icon weave their presence into climactic moments throughout the story. The simultaneous stories collide with the reason for the decimation of the original Mission. The conclusion to the story points to both physical and spiritual failures and successes.

There is plenty of symbolism within the book, but I’ll leave the implications to its readers.

The writing never falters from its original tone even with the merging of POVs. When the story is over, I can imagine the storyteller heaving a sigh as I gaze up at his face wondering what he gained from the lost missions within these lives. I applaud Athol for taking a risk with the structure and style of this novel. Even though it’s not my kind of story, it will be and already has been marked as exceptional and meaningful to some—which proves my point that readers appreciate different kinds of books, do not fall in lock step with “rule” writing, and can certainly enjoy variety by innumerable types of authors. Well done, Athol.

Father, you know the plans you have for Athol. Good plans. He continues to present you in his stories and honors you with his writing. May your hands of blessing be upon his continued life of writing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Look out when . . . Eternity Falls

First of all it’s important for my review readers to know I don’t generally like speculative fiction. What I gleaned from a specific correspondence with Rebecca Luella Miller is that the term “speculative” can refer to fantasy, sci-fi, and basically any fiction that “speculates” about “how things could be” built into story form. That’s a bare-bones definition because the point is I would classify the CFBA Tour’s featured Eternity Falls as sci-fi speculative fiction. Is that redundant?

Kirk Outerbridge is the author of this Marcher Lord Press speculative novel, and it is precisely because of Jeff Gerke’s Marcher Lord Press offering for the CFBA Tour that I ignored my normal distaste for the genre and signed up to read Eternity Falls. You might remember Jeff Gerke’s interview here some time back. What he’s doing in the publishing industry deserves recognition and I commend him for his efforts. Now he’s announced a new contest to check out if the speculative market is of interest to you.

Honestly, I wanted to check out the quality of Jeff’s selection in publishing Kirk Outerbridge’s novel to see if Eternity Falls would be a good sell for Jeff’s independent publishing status. Kirk Outerbridge did not disappoint with his writing skills. The cover is well done—not my favorite but there’s nothing wrong with the quality of design. When an independent publisher produces a book, most eyes take on a critical stare either desiring to pick the book apart or to determine if it’s a worthwhile project and professionally presented. From the production standpoint, the novel is equal to royalty publishing standards even though there were some copy-editing errors which weren’t caught in this Advanced Reader Copy, but this is in no way any different from many of the big publisher’s final books. No one likes to see errors in the copy, but it happens. And there have been plenty in recent novels produced by all of the big name CBA publishers. So the few noted in Eternity Falls don’t separate its overall quality from any other publisher. This is an equal endeavor on all counts.

One of the reasons I don’t necessarily enjoy speculative fiction in the areas of sci-fi, and definitely not fantasy, is probably because it seems somewhat cartoon-ish to me. I’ve never been a fan of cartoons. Maybe it’s because I have an inferior imagination when it comes to futuristic gadgetry, technology, and the abilities to “excel” beyond humanity. Maybe it’s because I can’t get past “what you see is what you get” in my current reality unless you bring me into speculative fiction of the spiritual realm: then I’m totally involved and a true believer. Don’t get me wrong here, in Kirk’s novel he makes most of what he presents plausible for the future, but it just feels like in sci-fi, a story has to keep adding on to the established technology, asking the reader to yet again bend or stretch his imagination to “visualize” and/or accept the possibility. This contemporary reader isn’t up to that challenge.

When the story begins, we’re introduced to widower Rick Macey, retired Colonel from the CDI (Civil Defense and Intelligence), who is working on private investigation projects, although often allowed to use his CDI credentials by his friend who remains in the department. Macey accepts a job from a feminist PR/Marketing guru for the Miracle Treatment product which insures its users will live young for as long as they keep taking the product. One of their most famous users, an aged actress who’d managed to look as young as a 20-something, has just died of natural causes with a signed Bible on her chest. The marketing woman, Sheila Dunn, is convinced that someone must have created an antidote to their eternal life product and administered it to the actress in order to destroy the company that produces Miracle Treatment—and Sheila’s career.

When Macey sees the inscription in the Bible, he knows he must involve himself in the case but doesn’t reveal any of his private reasons for doing so. Once he signs on to the case, the dangerous pursuit for a possible counter formula to the Miracle Treatment and the one whose name appeared in the Bible amps up big time with more high-tech, cyborg snap-crackle-and-pop action than you can imagine—or at least more than my finite mind can imagine. But that’s okay because for the most part it’s quite entertaining.

Outerbridge does a good job of demanding a reader stay tuned to the subplots, but I think as he creates more novels, he’ll do what many of us must do as we advance our writing skills: he’ll get less preachy. In a few parts there were too many unnecessary explanations of the Christian elements in the story. It’s a common error by those of us who evangelize in our stories. It isn’t the scenes themselves—it’s the overdone presentations of biblical data and interpretation. When we do this, we slow the story down, and this is a rip-roaring adventure which only occasionally required a break in the action.

Eternity Falls presents an interesting and action-fed premise of futuristic cyborg abilities combined with emaciated cities, cruel existences, and the age-old human conflicts. Think Robo-Cop merges with the Six Million Dollar Man (although with inflation maybe it’d be the Six Billion Dollar Man). The writing is crisp, bold, sometimes harsh but realistic, and the book bodes well for Kirk Outerbridge and Marcher Lord Press. Congratulations, Guys! Well done.

Father, you give us imagination. And even with the magnificent extensions of that imagination such as that of Kirk Outerbride, we still cannot fathom how great you are. Thank you for Kirk's devotion to you and his wonderful effort to put your Truth into a futuristic story. Please bless both Kirk and Jeff for their efforts to glorify you with their talents. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

The Good, Bad, or Indifferent

Those of us who read a lot of books rather quickly decide the fated label of the novels we tackle. Once we begin to express our likes and dislikes on our blogs, our preferences become common knowledge to those who visit us on a regular basis. Sure, every now and then we throw in a complete surprise but with me probably not very often.

I’m up front about what genres I enjoy, the authors I select repeatedly, and those I might read again but with no guarantees. Since I write what I prefer to call non-traditional romance, it’s a bit disappointing that there have been few recent romance novels which even slightly tempted me to read them. There can sometimes be a fine line separating a romance novel from what is now a genre unto itself called “Women’s Fiction”, but other times the line is marked and specific. Women’s fiction is supposed to cover “issues” that pertain to women which may or may not include romance. This genre is not supposed to fall into category romance definitions but can include romantic content.

One of my favorite authors when it comes to romance is Kristen Heitzmann. The reason for this is she captures the UST (Unresolved Sexual Tension) perfectly. The dialogue and situational conflict ring true. Her characters can be attractive, quirky, desirable, naïve, intimidating, and/or well versed in flirtatious behaviors. The stories are never just about romance. In fact, the romance is a by-product of the circumstance, and it works so well even when the reader knows what’s going to happen. The “hows” and “whys” come in multiples and variances. The relationships within the stories resonate with depth and meaningful characters. They aren’t “fluff” and they don’t always come easy. In other words they feel real. Within that reality she weaves the gospel message concurrent with story parameters, and it’s never forced.

When I read what I consider a bad book, the usual common denominators are unlikable characters and poor, unrealistic dialogue. Unlikable characters will turn me off to a story faster than anything else. It’s impossible to criticize category romance for being predictable or formulaic because those qualifications define it. However, if the heroine or protagonist maintains an unlikable persona, forget it. The novel fails at the most basic level of appeal.

One of the most unfortunate results when reading a novel is to complete it and immediately give it an “indifferent” classification. Not saying it’s bad but neither saying it’s good makes it next to invisible emotionally. Nothing to make us particularly care one way or the other. Nothing to make us remember the book so we can recommend it with any enthusiasm. Nothing.

Avid readers share the “good” books. And, yes, no one knows how completely opposite opinions on the same novels make it impossible to universally agree. Subjectivity rules. Every now and then a book will speak to wide audiences but positive agreement for most books varies widely.

One thing all readers agree on is that they have read novels which fall into these three descriptions: the good, the bad, and the indifferent.

Lord God Almighty, help us to write well, to write meaningful stories to honor you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

The dull roar of controversy . . .

Controversy can be an interesting beast. Roaring or subtle. Raging or slippery. Shouted or whispered. How Christians handle it can either be a lesson in diplomacy or a spectacle of jeering.

Apparently Ted Dekker created some noise about romance novels and writers, and the Steeple Hill Love Inspired imprint which bans certain words from appearing in its stories. At the bottom of this post in the Technorati Tags, you can click on and visit agent Chip MacGregor’s comments on Ted’s exposé, and/or you can visit Mike Duran’s take on Ted’s post over at Decompose.

When a writer—known or unknown—decides to wage ideologies, thoughts, or opinions on the offerings of other writers, said writer will invariably inject himself into some kind of controversy. If because I don’t care for the fantasy genre, I decide to minimize or mock those who write in that genre, what does that say about me?

I haven’t yet read Ted’s post, might not read it, but I did comment on the banned word list on Mike’s blog because the rather comprehensive list does imply that within a story these words would somehow portray either unclean or unsafe reading. Honestly, I can’t comprehend that. And, although I know there are incredibly capable authors able to work within the framework of the Love Inspired guidelines in order to tell meaningful stories, the absence of those for-the-most-part totally inoffensive words seems excessive and unnecessary.

Don’t get me wrong: I think any publisher can dictate whatever restrictions they desire. It’s their business, and they should have the right to structure their guidelines any which-way.

I think my point here is twofold. Today I’ll just address this one. Criticism by Christians of a particular facet of Christian publishing must be couched in straightforward words with a healthy dose of kindness. Picking apart writers, their styles, choice of genres, or anything else in the industry really should be done carefully. Not because there aren’t areas in need of improvement. Not because there aren’t books in need of a bad review. Not because there aren’t valid reasons to point out weaknesses, but because criticism can be toxic when it’s leveled in the wrong spirit. It can point a finger right back to the individual leveling the criticism and eventually come back to roost in their nest. It’s the reap what you sow principle, and it works.

You know I’ve written a few bad reviews. You know I’ve got a few negative opinions regarding certain aspects of the publishing industry. You know I’m not afraid to speak my mind. But God forbid I should ever be ugly or demeaning in my words, degrade any individual or company for exercising their professional “rights” or preferences.

If you choose to read Ted’s post, I’d be interested to hear your thoughts . . .

Father, I’m responsible to you for my words. I fail often. I know you will watch over me and hold me accountable. Help me to honor you with my words. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

***Addendum: After taking a look at Chip's and Mike's and Ted's posts, please click on Ted Dekker's apology on his Facebook entry. Apparently, he failed to make his position perfectly clear and seeks to rectify his faux pas.***

Sunday's Offerings

For the lips of an adulteress drip honey,
and her speech is smoother than oil;
but in the end she is bitter as gall,
sharp as a double-edged sword.
Her feet go down to death;
her steps lead straight to the grave.
She gives no thought to the way of life;
her paths are crooked, but she knows it not.

Proverbs 5:3-6 (NIV)

Saturday Sample

“Yes, sir. I’m here right now next door. Yeah, that’d be great. Thank you.”
“He’s coming over, isn’t he?” Nelson grinned at Hutch.
“Yeah, you think he’ll mind me being a horseshoer and all?”
“Nah. He was fine with renting to me, and he understood when I took the house instead. He hasn’t been burned yet by a racetracker, so he doesn’t know the difference.”

“Dick! What’re you doin’ here?” Cee got up from behind her desk and closed her office door so she could embrace her husband.
“I owe you an explanation, and I didn’t want to waste any time giving it to you—as well as my apology for keeping something from you. I feel pretty stupid about it right now, but I’m also very appreciative of how you’ve been so patient with me. You’ve handled the situation much better than I have.”
Putting her hands on his shoulders and smiling a little mischievously, she asked, “Your dream?”
“How come you’re so smart anyway?” He kissed her.
“I don’t know how smart I am, but I do know when something’s really got you bugged.” She kissed him back.
“You know what?”
“What?” She smiled.
“I'm so glad I don’t have to wait any longer to crawl into bed with you. To have you next to me. I thought that day would never come.”
“I know.” After a moment, she said, “Why don’t you tell me over dinner? I’m done here.”
“Sounds great. I’ll be in the car.”

“Nelson, I can’t thank you enough for this. What a relief. Mr. Raleigh seems like a real nice guy, too.”
“Glad to help. You hungry?”
“I was just going to offer to buy you dinner. I think I’ve got a clean shirt in the truck.”
“You’re on.”

Friday Five

Here are five of my favorite female authors in no particular order and certainly not inclusive of all of my favorites. Of the authors on this list, I've read at least two of their novels.

Francine Rivers, Kristen Heitzmann, Brandilyn Collins, Susan Meissner, Sibella Giorello

When I visited Ireland many years ago, my friend and I were told it was safe to hitchhike there. So we did. We traveled from Dublin to Galway hitchhiking which is a substantial distance. Two nice young men took us quite a ways and we got slowed down in our travels with them by a herd of sheep crossing the road all around us. The Irish countryside is as beautiful and lush as all the pictures portray it to be.

Of all the places we visited I must admit I liked Dublin the least. The people there at that time were incredibly rude.

Once we made it to Galway, we hitched a ride with a tire salesman in his big white van. As we considered our journey with him and listened to his stories, we figured he'd taken us in a big circle.

The boat trip from Scotland to Ireland was the roughest voyage I've ever been on with plenty of people in the restrooms getting sick, trays crashing as the boat rocked and rolled, and I wonder now why I don't remember being scared.

Lord, you have been so good to me. I love you. And I'm desperate for you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Maintaining a dialogue . . .

Right from the start, let me say this: I’m not pretending to be a teacher here. Too much of a rebel rouser in the writing world to profess a teachable attitude or a willing spirit to bend to the status quo, I like what I like, love what I love, and feel just as strongly about negatives and those who continue to implore writers with certainties and inflexibilities. Having clarified my position on those few things, this post addresses dialogue.

First of all, I’ve been told by some readers that my strengths lie in characterization and dialogue. What that insinuates is that I lack sufficiently in plot development! Regardless of those opinions, I do think I can put some meaningful dialogue on the page. Keep in mind I write contemporary stories, so I’m not claiming any abilities in maintaining the dialogue in historical fiction.

What I think is the first prerequisite for writing good or authentic dialogue is to truly know your characters. If you can’t picture them, “hear” their voices, or see them “speaking”, chances are you can’t get them to effectively express themselves. What we often refer to as “cardboard” characters acknowledges that they’re “stiff”, unnatural, one or two dimensional, and seem cut out of another book, article, or perhaps a drawing, much like an old-fashioned paper doll. Picture the movement of a cardboard character. You don’t expect to “hear” a cardboard character talking.

Understanding your characters requires a significant mental/emotional investment. When a writer tackles a character who is the opposite of all things he holds as important, vital, courageous, or other such traits, it isn’t easy to get into the character’s head and ultimately to speak for him. But that is precisely what must happen in order to come across without stereotypical vacant dialogue. As a writer, you have to know who this character really is, how he thinks, and consequently how he talks. The same goes with the sweeter-than-light character. To make her acceptable we as readers have to buy into her sincerity or the overall reason for her demeanor. Otherwise she’s just as stereotypical in another way as the villainous character.

The next prerequisite for good dialogue requires being a good listener. Hearing the intonations of people’s voices, their expressions, their formalities, their slang, their vulgarities (not that you’ll choose to use them directly, but they’re still important in figuring out your character’s voice), their intelligence or lack thereof, their mannerisms, their accents if any—all of these help decide, describe, and give detail to individual character’s words and are the tools used to create good authentic dialogue. Real people speak real-ly. As a result, you have to make fictional characters speak real-ly, too, for who you’ve designed them to be.

Finally for this post, if you need a final judgment on how the dialogue “sounds”, read it out loud. To yourself. Then to someone else if you’re still not sure about it. That dialogue must fit the person you’ve created. If you’ve got the King’s English coming out of the mouth of a 17 year old street person, something has gone terribly wrong.

Our words, even in conversations, speak volumes. They define us more than we’d sometimes like to believe. Characters’ words must back up who you’ve made them to be. If they don’t, something’s got to change.

In the worst novels I’ve read, the dialogue stands out as being dreadful. No contractions used in casual conversation. Exaggerated and unlikely emotional descriptions. Drama unfitting to the situations. Hard to imagine them getting past an editor with the way they’re written, but, alas, there they are. And for those novels, there were readers who methodically read the books and probably didn’t even notice how stilted the language appeared. They read them for the stories. It’s interesting, too, that the worst novels I’ve read also contained characters I came close to detesting and who in no way were supposed to be offensive. The accompanying dialogue only accentuated how little I enjoyed them—or perhaps contributed to why I didn’t like them.

So . . . what do ya think?

Lord, your words are perfect. Love having dialogue with you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.