Y o u r W r i t e r s G r o u p

The Voice of the Christian Writer

Have you ever wondered about the impact you're having?

I am tonight and mainly it's because I'm not able to share in someone's pain. My grandfather is dying and I want to be there, for him, my grandma, and my mom. But he’s too ashamed. So he’s distant. He wouldn’t admit it but he doesn’t believe death is natural. If he was willing to let me in, I don’t know that I could help him anyway, but I do know this desire to share in others’ pain is part of the reason I write.

We’ve all learned to show, don’t tell. But I don’t want to even “show” until I listen. I want to become aware of the enormous pain in the people around me, to hear it. And that means experiencing it myself.

I’m afraid, though, because I know what it means. I’ve experienced some things my grandpa hasn’t: namely, the unknowable depth of love that covers these unbearable sufferings. But he wouldn’t believe me. So I think to tell him in story. Can a story give him a sense of the unfathomable love surrounding us, the safety and security of that? At least the little bit I've experienced, I could try to convince him. I may not know his pain, but God does. Would a story be powerful enough, have resonance and speak of his reality? Is my measure of awareness big enough?

How I live would show through. Am I practiced enough to connect with the fact of his life slipping away as well as the fact of comfort? Am I too afraid? Is it too much for me? I look at Jesus who listened and saw it, saw the suffering and got closer to it. Focused on those he could help, those around him, he helped them and they helped others. His stamina and capacity to handle pain surely grew over time, just as my small handful of understanding will eventually reveal more of this universe packed with metaphor. I want to trust that God coming through the power of story will make up for my lack. I want to trust in the nuclear, viral power of story to break through. But can I?

I’ve written of the closer things, what I know. That’s where I've believed I could do the most good. What I’ve lived is what I have. I’ve shared about what was in front of me, let it speak of whatever universal truths it could, of this situation we’re all in. I know something of what I’m destined for and I’ve striven to reveal the bigger vision from my tiny sphere. But am I ready for this? Are we ever ready to really put our belief in the power of story to the test?

Life is metaphor upon metaphor. Earth, heaven, and hell presented in endlessly repeating relationships, mirroring each other and astonishing us over and over in endless transformations. I live in those connections. I explore them. My life is others’, my pain, their pain. I’ve seen the power of story create relatives of everyone, seen it carry God’s truth, teaching through representing, entertaining and awakening, showing me them and them me as we watch each other across time. The more layers, the more insights, the more life is reflected. It's been my education to learn of myself and the world. If God designed story to teach me of his imbuing presence and who I am in him, can I pass that on now? If all of this has been my chance to experience God's story given for me (Col 1:15—Jesus makes the invisible God visible, like a good metaphor), am I not to give my story to him?

Learning to follow Christ is like learning to write well.

A good metaphor describes a thing by telling you about something else.

All this is by design. Small things revealing the whole. The power of God, through us, in a simple story.

Adventure of Writing

"It's important to remember we're all explorers--as humans we are risk-takers, whizzing down a hill on a bike. But we get settled in a pattern. There is so much more inside us."
--Benedict Allen, British explorer, “Disconnecting Is Key to Exploring,” Brigid Delaney, CNN.com

We age and something gets in the way of the adventure. Maybe an idol we seek. Something more important. 

Other opinions get in. How easily we forget. Finally, exploring becomes a waste of time. Unproductive. 

Very few have the courage and determination to go back into the wild, like Allen, or Chris McCandless, the wandering adventurer of Jon Krakauer’s bio. But there’s something ineluctable about it for writers, this need to disconnect from the machinations of influence-seeking. Like McCandless and Allen and countless others before them (Cobain, anyone?).

We all seek to escape.

And yet, we also desire to be of influence, to be connectors. The world esteems and rewards natural connectors, conveying power and respect for their contagious personalities. Their messages compel us because they’re explorers too, charging blindly into the wilderness that exists between people, inviting us to come along. They have something to share about this exploration of connecting.

I’ve known influential connectors and the surprising truth is that most have tapped the skill of disconnecting and reconnecting with the outside world. For many writers, I believe this is a hidden key. Mastering this art requires jumping into your particular adventure by investing your personality, experiences, and abilities anonymously before reconnecting.

To connect, they’ve first disconnected from the world. And to disconnect, they’ve connected with themselves and the God-given tools for the adventure. The journey is universal, but the results are always unique. No one is an automaton, but as free agents in a glorious open experiment, we follow the prime exemplar, denying ourselves, our selfish concerns, and seeking a better world where “mattering” no longer matters.

We each have a life to live, but it will only be great if we live it.

We want to leave behind more than landmarks. We hope to pass on an ability to see. From your own dangerous adventure, you will teach people how to see their world, others, themselves, and God, how to see the deeper reality, awakening both the desire to search it out, and the sight with which to understand. Flannery O’Connor said that a novelist uses the skills of a prophet, being able to see the “near things with their extensions of meaning,” and thus, to see “far things close up.”

As a writer, you carry that—you make the connections between the visible “near things” and the reality they represent. You’re the very definition of a connector. If that is in you, there’s no need to question it or ask why. Invest in that desire. Show that however it may appear, there’s little distance between things in this world. Strive to show that the greatest chasms of contrast also create the most compelling complements.

It's either an esoteric philosophy, or an intriguing invitation, depending on the context you create in which to explore it. The extent to which you can sense that truth is directly linked to how much you’ve disconnected from the outside world to connect to your inner adventurer.

There’s a deep significance in how you spend your waking moments. What are you pursuing in the quiet times? It will feel foolish sitting behind a computer and hacking away at the hidden form behind the screen. But disconnecting from the distancing influences, you’ll sense this broader perspective and discover deeper truths tied in webs of meaning you never before imagined.

This is the adventure, the brave exploration of an immortal soul, disconnecting to embark on a humbling, overwhelming journey most will never even begin. But this is why you're needed, to connect it up for them, even as you work and strive yourself to continue, straining to fathom the infinite mysteries.

The 5 Secrets to “Inbox Zero” (condensed)

In my great job, searching for things that folks want to read, once in a while I come across an item that has the potential to fundamentally change the way I work. This is such an item.

Everyone knows email is a big time-suck, the kind that can easily eat up your life, even if you aren't one of those who receive 250 emails a day (you know who you are and you need to seek help).

And granted, this isn't the newest thing out there, but these 5 little steps adapted from Merlin Mann at 43Folders.com have been a huge help in reducing the amount of daily time I spend in Outlook. (If you want to watch his entire talk at Google, it's here too)

5 Secrets to “Inbox Zero”

1. Turn off your email. Don’t leave it open. Turn off new mail alerts.
2. Check less. By increments, if you have to: once per hour for 10 min, working down to twice per work span (morning/afternoon). Manage recipient expectations by never responding too quickly or too verbosely.
3. Use filters. Have news (aka “high noise” data) automatically sent to a “research” folder and set a reminder to check it once every few days or once per week, depending on its urgency. Eliminate needless news by using Google news alerts to keep it specific.
4. When you check email, decide an action. Respond, forward, archive, or delete. If it involves a task, do it, defer it (add to calendar), or delegate it. Then delete it. Never use email as an archive of future tasks.
5. Self-check regularly. Are you processing efficiently and paying less attention to email?

Don't Quit Your Day Job

"I am a seven-foot-tall banana for a San Francisco–based fruit delivery company. I ride the train as the banana. I pass out bananas on the streets dressed as the banana. I get an awful lot of hugs as the banana, and more high-fives than anyone really has a right to."

"...Sometimes I think that no matter what I write, no matter how much I improve, no humorous essay will ever be able to compete with the sight of a middle-aged mom dressed as giant food."

Some special encouragement to all you brave authors out there who are sacrificing time, money, and dignity to survive and thrive.

See now? You don't have to feel bad just because you can't "survive" on your writing income. More importantly, are you thriving?

So Brave, Young, and Handsome: New Leif Enger coming soon

"A stunning successor to his best selling novel Peace Like a River, Leif Enger’s new work ["So Brave, Young, and Handsome"] is a rugged and nimble story about an aging train robber on a quest to reconcile the claims of love and judgment on his life, and the failed writer who goes with him.

"In 1915 Minnesota, novelist Monte Becket has lost his sense of purpose. His only success long behind him, Monte lives simply with his wife and son. But when he befriends outlaw Glendon Hale, a new world of opportunity and experience presents itself. Glendon has spent years in obscurity, but the guilt he harbors for abandoning his wife, Blue, over two decades ago, has lured him from hiding. As the modern age marches swiftly forward, Glendon aims to travel back to his past--heading to California to seek Blue’s forgiveness. Beguiled and inspired, Monte soon finds himself leaving behind his own family to embark for the unruly West with his fugitive guide. As they desperately flee from the relentless Charles Siringo, an ex-Pinkerton who’s been hunting Glendon for years, Monte falls ever further from his family and the law, to be tempered by a fiery adventure from which he may never get home."

A starred review from Kirkus (can PW be far behind?). Book releases from Atlantic Monthly mid-May, so hang on...

The Speed of Publishing

Just back from the Christian Writers Guild's annual conference at The Broadmoor where I was once again impressed and not-just-a-little concerned about the level of stardom attributed to such a nerdy, pitiable person as myself. And yes, I know it's just the title and the house I work for, the perception of the power I wield over poor writers' livelihoods and long-term happiness, not to mention personal and even spiritual fulfillment of life-long dreams. There's a reason we acquisition editors are collectively known as the gatekeepers (of course, I'd argue that my assistant reader owns that title, or at least shares it).

But it was a great time as usual and just the right amount of inspiration and practical teaching from the little I was able to gather between appointments, presentations, and panels. If you haven't checked out the most professional Christian writers conference in the country yet, I'd suggest you do so next year. It's truly a well-oiled machine, which speaks to Jerry Jenkins' commitment to assisting writers and his generosity to the deeper cause of our industry.

In chatting around the tables with the talented folks who waited in line--some for over half an hour!--for the unsurpassed pleasure of eating with me (I told you; it's ridiculous), the questions that came up most often centered around the surprising 12-to-18-month lead time of the book publishing process and what trends and changes are taking place just out there on the horizon. I've long hoped for something significant and informative to say in such situations, so imagine my glee to run across this recent article in the New York Times. The author not only shares the point I'm constantly explaining to new authors (about the lead time necessary for publicity to generate healthy interest in titles from unknown authors), she also seems to share my frustration. Why do we have to wait so long for books to come out? Not only do my predictions of current trends and the larger felt needs diminish over time, but my ability to sustain personal interest and excitement for the books I do acquire is severely tested by lead times of more than a year. Simply, I'm forced to move on to the books coming out next year.

If you read to the end of the article, you'll notice there's a "riddle": what can be done to shorten this lead time between acquiring the book and releasing it? I believe PW writer David Rothman may have finally given me the answer--or at least an answer--to this conundrum. If the goal is shortening the time it takes to release a book, and the bottleneck is generating publicity, why not generate publicity and critical word-of-mouth with electronic and POD releases first? Publishers have long relied on advance-release copies (ARCs) of especially worthy books to send out for review--but these are hard copy and often rushed to press since printing and distributing require 2-3 months on their own. If you want a hard copy out early, it's got to be very early. But release the book for download and POD and you've got word-of-mouth happening that much faster.

Yet aside from his helpful articulation of many of the arguments for such a move, I do think David is willingly suspending our disbelief that his solution could have one major roadblock: the perception of a publisher's commitment when it produces a widely-distributed ARC. Much like covers touting "Over 1 million copies in print," such reassurances go a long way into getting a book recognized by booksellers. Forcing them to rely on their own instincts and maybe the recommendation of a tuned-in industry friend may not be as powerful an aphrodisiac. And I won't even mention the old "I-love-hard copy" argument. We ALL love hard copy (even the Lorax agreed to be sold in hard copy). Market perception is king and hard copy still carries a higher regard virtually across the board. As adults, we may move on from chewed up copies of Pat the Bunny, but we never give up our affection for them.

When I ask the authors around my table why they write, what it is that keeps them slogging away alone in the darkness, the unanimous response is that they love books. And by extension, they love all the rest--writers, readers, publishing, editors, agents, bookstores, sales reps, publicists and even other formats like e and POD. But who's going to get excited about it if it's not a real book? As readers, we've already acquiesced to read in paperback, mass market versions, and low-quality hardcovers. We don't require all books to be leather-bound beauties with the really nice lay-flat binding and thick, cottony pages with the type practically embossed on them. Who would carry that around anyway? ...well, some people would.

So where does that leave us? I guess I'm still debating the virtue of this answer to pre-release books as "almost-books." It certainly makes sense. I just don't know if anyone's really ready to start reading to their kids off a Kindle, which is what it's going to take to cure this pandemic, apologies to the Lorax. In a world that's moving too fast, books just might need to get slower to really capitalize on their greatest potential--to help us slow down ourselves.

You think? Comments welcome.

On Writing Novels, Part 2

I have 3 steps I’ve developed for writing novels. It may come as a surprise that I’m advocating a formula in writing fiction. But this is one that’s come from my own process in changing my focus from “becoming a novelist” to writing fiction. It was an important shift for me and certainly every writer has to go through it at some point. You have to take the focus off of you and shift it to writing the book. Sounds obvious, but it can be deceptive. And it isn’t a simple matter of deciding to forget your own ego once and for all. Like anything that’s hard, it requires practice and daily reminders. Bird by bird.

But once it really sunk in for me, I realized writing only requires one thing: masochistic devotion. I don’t know if it’s healthy, but I’ve started to love my novel. Really love it. Like a child I’m raising to send out into the world. I started out thinking, Don’t get too attached. You’re going to have to eventually edit this thing. I’ve always told myself the stories were just mine for a season—and that made it easier to find the stopping point. I protected myself from the reality that my precious art would have to be freeze-dried, shipped, and sold into the cruel world. But resisting that deeper devotion only crippled their ability to survive the publishing process. And that’s why the books were weak. I didn’t truly love them.

You have to deeply love your book. Normal people can save themselves for their families and maybe a couple of expensive hobbies. But novelists are too stubborn and prideful to be normal, so I’ve found it helpful to get comfortable with 1 Corinthians 13 because that’s the kind of love writing fiction requires. We may start out thinking it’s about expressing ourselves, telling our stories or getting our names on a book. But by the time that happens, you’ll probably be thinking very differently. I’m not even there yet, but I’ve seen it happening. I’m not writing for the same reasons anymore. Now I’m writing for the book.

So to love your book with the love Paul talks of, it will hurt. It requires you to become a better person in order to love better, to dismantle yourself in order to serve it better. Love is what carries me through the writing now—and it’s definitely a love-hate relationship more often than not. But love is a choice—or so I tell I myself every day. And practically, this choice has required 3 steps. The steps are:

1. Give yourself over to internalizing the writing rules. Commit to employ these rules daily for 30 days. If you do, it’ll be easier to love your novel. Establish this choice and do not cross back over (that old you is dead, remember?). The rules (there are 8): (1) Consider that you’re asking total strangers to give you their time and attention, but (2) always write to a particular person. (3) In every sentence, reveal character, advance the plot, *or deepen the context.* (4) Start as near the end as possible, and (5) reveal as much as possible as quickly as possible. (6) Provide at least one character to root for, and (7) give every character something, anything, to desire. (8) Then attack them to show what they’re made of. (Adapted from Kurt Vonnegut’s 8 rules, Bagombo Snuff Box www.troubling.info/vonnegut.html ) Note: Vonnegut doesn’t include deepening the context as a goal of sentences. I include it because description and atmosphere are still essential, but only as they serve characters and plot.

2. Sacrifice your world for that of the novel. For me, this meant knowing why I was writing—that’s where I found my resolve. It became my foundation for devotion. And I needed that to win the daily battle to protect its world. Your reasons for writing may be different than mine, but that first draft must come from total immersion without thought to the world.

3. Disappear entirely. Editing requires objectivity. I’ve improved with practice, but just starting out I had to hear it read aloud among others (others who knew the rules). Serve your story by helping it serve the reader better. Practically, this means substituting weak chapters, paragraphs, sentences and words for strong ones (in that order). Use the unique over the familiar, the revealing action over explanation, and the descriptive verb over adjectives.

So this is my formula for developing a love for my book. It’s a choice, but I’m betting that if I can follow these steps every time, eventually I’ll be a published novelist. Want to see if it works?

Check out C.J.'s series for aspiring novelists here.

The New Bible: The Books of The Bible

There are many parts of my position as acquisitions editor at WaterBrook that are really cool. One of those things is certainly discussing ideas that have significant potential for publication. The exchange of intellectual capital, so to speak, is invigorating and always interesting. I’m truly amazed at the breadth of skill, talent, and experience of the people I get to call friends. 

But one of the coolest perks is all the free books.

When Mike Morrell of the counter-cultural Christian web journal The Ooze asked me to take part in the reviewing service for their site, I was more than happy to accept. I haven’t had time to write about any of the books—and I don’t really have time now—but one new arrival deserves a special mention.

The Books of the Bible is the new much-anticipated Bible project from International Bible Society and it’s everything we’ve been hoping for from the old bee-eye-bee-el-ee all along. No more artificial divisions and confusing textual structures. Gone are the arbitrary numbers and chapters, the text notes and superscript code language, replaced by the simple, straight-forward story of God and his creation.

Going through Luke-Acts, I kept thinking, Why hasn't anyone thought of this before? It’s truly a delight to read and I’ve made significant headway in my goal to finish reading the entire Bible this year already. If you don’t think it matters, that you’ve always read the Bible as segments of broken statements and disconnected phrases, I’d challenge you to go find one of these inexpensive new Bibles at your local bookstore. Someone’s probably already said it, but this new version of the TNIV brings the reading experience back to the foundational texts—it’s the Bible without the babble.

It changes the order of the books to be more logical and follow the intent of the original books, shedding new light on the history and meaning behind the well-known events. It’s broadens your perspective to include the particular distinctiveness of the authors’ voices and historical context, but also repairs misunderstandings about certain books’ type of writing, like James, primarily a book of wisdom writing like Proverbs rather than a letter like Romans. This creates a freedom to read the books in a new understanding of their theological traditions as well, which will be a completely new experience for most Christians.

Imagine if the Bible started to really come alive.

Now, of course, this is a very controversial Bible as well. Google it. Some Christians aren't happy about it, and in fact rumors are IBS wasn't all in on the concept either. But progress can't be stopped. I’ve written about another controversial Bible here before—the Inductive New American Standard. And in fact, I still prefer that translation. If I could blend the two, I’d probably run off and join a monastery, so God’s preserving my family by keeping that from me. But after a couple weeks reading through this new Bible, I think I'll probably still be talking about this. It's that cool.

So check it out. And get into the real meaningfulness of "the word."

More Abundance in Life and Art

Happy New Year, folks.

Over the three-and-a-half years I’ve been writing on this blog, I’ve realized a few things about Christian books and publishing. It’s been a good education. One of the things I’ve learned is that it’s far too easy to criticize the deficiencies and errors of our current system. I’ve made some honest, incisive critiques but I’ve also made generalizations and over-simplifications. I’ve pressed in, believing that progress and truthfulness would win out over my own shortcomings. But in confronting the challenge to contribute to the progress of our insular Christian book culture, I’ve found it difficult to accept the fact that here, morality not only usurps quality and reality, it is often a morality defined as caution, prudence, conservatism, reserve, and safety. It’s a negative morality; we become moral by what we avoid out of fear. Goodness is commonly seen as the opposite of sin, so writing the opposite of sin becomes the writer’s motivation. And the goal becomes to stay safe.

But Jesus did not come so that we might have safety more abundantly.

Imagine the life we’re missing because we’re so concerned with caution. But of course, we can’t imagine it because we lack the imagination and the artists to show us how. And this is the clanging gong I’ve sounded here over and over, yes, sometimes with the love for my target undermined by the forcefulness of passion. Other times, the love for Christians, Christian books, and the larger purpose has simply been left implicit—and subsequently missed. Completely understandable, but no less frustrating. And sometimes my appreciation for the good work being done in CBA has spilled out at the expense of the more well-reasoned point being made. Those times have been rare—self-preservation as a hard-nosed book doctor may be to blame there, you understand.

But I’ve reminded myself that being prudent should not mean proceeding with caution; it must mean having practical wisdom, using judgment, practicing discernment. Exercising wise judgment certainly requires caution. Yet at times it also requires risk.

Because the larger truth of this situation is that the tragic effect of limiting our acceptance of the bald realities before us in the Christian book market derails its progress. Every equivocation to caution and safety further limits the truth. It’s seen as dangerous, so rather than consider the aesthetic quality and purpose of criticism, we dismiss it as mean, negative, or presumptive and miss the value.

Are we unable to look at ourselves honestly? If so, I might argue that this distortion of "morality" has already happened. The falsification has become the norm. But you see? This is what happens to good books too.

Again and again great books have their art destroyed, denounced as immoral (given the definition of “moral” above), and are overlooked, while the mawkish, the simplified, the aesthetically meretricious is extolled because its message is regarded as edifying and safe. And thus are many led astray. These readers will acquire a taste not for what is good and real, but what is bad and false. Their ability to appreciate the genuineness and integrity of a truthful message is replaced with deadened senses, preferring the more common, familiar, and simple.

What service is it to our faith—to grace!—to turn potentially mature human beings into less? What claim can we make to serve Truth if we acquiesce or encourage distortions and falsifications of it?

I’m not saying this to make anyone upset. I’m also not saying this is what has happened in our culture. I think these are questions we must all deal with on a personal level. I’m merely pointing out that if you struggle with these questions as I do, it isn’t for nothing. Listen to them. Seek out answers. They may not be where you expect them, but I guarantee wherever you end up finding them, God will be there.

(Much of the strength and substance of this argument comes from an essay published over forty years ago by a British Dominican priest in the mid-twentieth century, and reprinted a while back by Image Journal The same one paraphrased here. His points are about the Christian culture in general, but there's clearly significant application to modern Christian books.)

My Confusion-Free Christmas Plan

Alright. I confess. I’m not worried at all about losing the term “Christmas.” I’m also not concerned by Xs in place of Christ. The X is a cross. That reminds me of Christ. Maybe it doesn’t remind others of Christ, but that’s their prerogative. Why should I need anyone’s participation in my decision to be Christ-centered on Christmas? If you’re a stickler for keeping religion in your festivities, great! But “Holy-day” celebrations are still pretty sacred, aren’t they? And even so, you don’t hear anyone going out to get a “holiday tree” or forgetting what day it is when we open all the presents.

 

That’s right: Christmas with a capital Christ. I think it’s here to stay. So instead of Christians getting all bent out of shape by the ACLU and freaky fringe types, I want to remember there are big cultural problems involved in the fight for Christmas as well--such as losing our cultural identity through neglect and plain ignorance. Sure, sweeping Christ under the rug at Christmas is a fairly time-honored tradition in this country. But our tendency to lump all the holidays together and wish people happiness in all of them may be less about avoiding Christ than a preference for efficiency and inclusiveness. That's an American sort of thing to do, and frankly, I’m starting to wonder if some Christians really understand that at all. Do Christians really think Jesus is offended at people who don’t want to say his name? There's solidarity with the past and our fellow man in wishing people “Happy Holidays.” And if I care about making sure someone remembers Christ on Christmas, I’ll invite them over for egg-nog and cookies. There’s no call for being antagonistic about Christmas. Honestly, it looks bad when Christians whine about the ACLU and validate their bigotry, only to wind up making ourselves out to be the bigots when we wish someone a Merry CHRIST-mas!

 

This “keep-the-Christ-in-Christmas” campaign got me thinking about signing off Christmas entirely. Wouldn’t it be more socially conscious to take a complete and total break from consumerism—government, media, business, technology, economy, taxonomy, whatever? No television, movies, computers, cell phones, iPhones, or video games. Farm-grown trees and basic Christmas dinner, homemade decorations and gifts. I imagine my brother and sister-in-law getting our girls Disney princesses and Polly Pockets as we smile and nod and hand over their crocheted scarves and homemade preserves wrapped in banana leaves…

 

But there’s another thing that’s here to stay: the great muddy melting pot. Americans are Americans because we’re a mish-mash of cultures and traditions. Does anyone else wonder why we wait for the stuffing to go bad before hunting down a tree farm that isn’t charging $95 to bring home poison oak and a family of wolf spiders? You do? Well, Merry Christmas, American!

These days, I think we’re all doing well just to remember Turkey-and-Football-Day when the retailers have convinced everyone on the block to start putting up their Christmas lights the day after Halloween. In America, our holiday traditions are alive and well. Right here is where the tradition started of using New Year’s to celebrate starting over right before the credit bill for Christmas comes. This year, I want to remember that the holidays (i.e. “holy-days”) are wonderful, messed-up, formerly-pagan-Catholic-redeemed celebrations-of-family-traditions as varied as the snowflakes. And even in a mish-mash, there’s a camaraderie if you’re willing to embrace it.

 

So “Merry Christmas, you ol’ Savings and Loan!” And this year, as we watch the Christmas Day parade floats, let’s do our best not to try to explain all our varied traditions and just enjoy the spectacle of pop singers, flowers, ostriches, surfers, menorahs, African tribal dancers, and babies dancing in top hats on the monstrous floats. It's just an American thing.

On Writing Novels

Thanks for grace these few months while the blog's been on hiatus. I’ve been writing a fair amount, and learning a lot about my process. Though I've edited for years, I still know surprisingly little about the real writing of books. And specifically novels. Certainly it’s an occupation that takes a good while to learn and requires special mental tools to really survive it. I do know a lot of theory and general information about what makes novels work and even how authors write them. And I read a lot. But I don’t know how one makes people love their type of story and how to ensure they’ll spend time and money seeking it out.

It’d be nice to know these things going in. But then you wouldn’t need faith, right?

Aside from the need for faith, one thing I think I have a moderate amount of control over in writing this novel is the vital need to love what I'm writing. If I don’t love it, I'd better figure out why and fix it or I’ll never finish.

I know it's a common problem, losing steam. I’ve muscled my way through articles, essays, short stories, even novellas, and there’s just no muscling through 300+ pages. My muscles, my mind, and my muse revolt. I start climbing the walls and moaning about how long it’s getting and how much extraneous blather I have to put in to keep readers up. Of course, it isn’t extraneous, but that essential fictive bubble is easily burst by the interior editor and his clawing demands.

So, I go to combat this self-sabotage by striving for a sort of verbal diarrhea and ignoring the pleas for economy and restraint. And if I get a couple good thoughts or scenes, I celebrate my victory by feeling powerful and a little larger for a few hours or so. And even once the feeling fades, some part of me recalls that my happiness does rest in this mental trickery to just get the flipping story out. And when the urge to edit becomes unbearable again, I'll have to figure out new tricks for tripping up the sage saboteur.

Basically, the deal is, to truly love what I’m writing, I have to fight to preserve my created world from the disconnecting, fracturing one constantly sniping at me. I have to remember that I write to connect the dots and make sense of things, and that the demoniac with the red pen is not my chum. If I’m going to write, I have to enjoy living in that world where some nonlinear beauty adds an organic, natural quality, and the chaotic tumbling of words serves a greater purpose and will make some sort of larger sense.

Honestly, the writer in me doesn’t really care how good the prose is. He just wants people to read it and enjoy it. Yes, quality literature is enormously important. But it’s no good if I’m worried about how good it is. And because I know that my “good edit” is the enemy of great story, I can’t worry about quality while I’m writing. If I do, no one’s ever reading it.

Second, Kafka and Hawthorne are dead. And though one might aspire to them, living writers can’t eat ideals. The purest prose doesn’t put money in your pocket. Today, if you want another contract, you need readers. That’s difficult enough, so in the end you need to write what’s going to get you read and let someone else sort out the quality question. This is why I think there's little else that so determines your ability to find readers than gagging that inner word Nazi, at least while you're writing. From his perspective, the struggle I’ve met with in trying to write this book makes perfect sense—he knows how badly my sentences suck. But should I care?

Of course not. Because thirdly, the only real quality to be concerned with doesn’t have to do with big words and literary phrasing. It’s the quality of the ideas, of the content. And how those ideas illuminate depth of meaning. And form those connections that end isolation. And rip at the frozen seas inside.

So in the end it’s good to remember: only you have your particular message. And only you can protect the big reasons you write. And as you strive to preserve your love for your work in progress, you may have to keep reminding yourself like I do that you can’t ever let anyone—even yourself—throw you off.

Vonnegut’s eight rules for writing fiction (condensed)

Excite strangers.
Reveal all quickly.
Start near end.
At least one character to root for.
Characters must want something, anything.
Attack them to show what they’re made of.
Every sentence, reveal character or advance plot.
Write to one.

-- Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction (New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons 1999).

Inspiration

The picture that makes up the banner at the top here with all the books contains a pencil drawing I did in 1989, one of the first I attempted. I was a freshman and our teacher, Mr. Kellner, wanted us to choose something significant, something that meant something to us, so I chose this picture from a magazine to copy down in pencil. It turned out pretty good and I've always been proud of it, though it's pretty yellowed and faded now. Not sure what that has to do with anything, but there it is. I wanted to write someday, and this was my first statement in bringing that to reality in a way.

So speaking of incarnational activities, I hope you're all busy working on those works of beauty and wonder you're dreaming of. I am. In case you've wondered, that's where I've been.

This was inspirational recently: an essay first published over forty years ago by a British Dominican priest in the mid-twentieth century, recently reprinted in Image Journal. Here's a rough, Message-inspired paraphrase:

"With all our sensory gifts, we have a duty, a responsibility to God and to the world he made for us to develop our appreciation and awareness of it. To be fully alive. Because of our self-awareness, we are between physical and spiritual: our involvement is giving the world incarnate meaning beyond simple physical fact. Our interaction with the world through our senses humanizes the world and deepens material reality. We are not only categorizing, domesticating, naming and subduing nature, we are naturalizing it through our experience. Our experience is what makes it nature. Man was first made to be a gardener, so his living turns wilderness and wastelands into fields and gardens. His art draws meaning from the chaos as the word drew light from darkness and separated, defined, and solidified reality. Developing the slow transformation of physical reality into spiritual meaning requires reflection, stillness, and receptivity. And our shadowed world of political fears, troubles and economic anxieties blind us to this deeper crisis of deadened senses. The human psyche is forgetting to contemplate. Only artists know this: that one must first take in beauty and culture and meaning in order to understand it, know it, and share it.

"Artists must lead the way."

Let that be your light today, skimming across the unseen page. Inspiration for ever-greater mystery.

Doubleday Religion joins WaterBrook Multnomah

The announcement was made today that the religious publishing team of Doubleday Broadway will be consolidating under the newly-termed Doubleday Religious Publishing Group, joining with WaterBrook Multnomah under president, Steve Cobb. The majority of the change is in reporting structure, and day-to-day business will continue as normal, as well as the distinctive visions and acquisition strategies of each individual line. Yet as Doubleday publisher Steve Rubin pointed out in a company memo today, this is a first in the industry, encompassing "the full array of Judeo-Christian traditions."

Most exciting to me about the reorganization are the new areas it will open up for our so-called "religious" books to reach a broader audience. In fact, one could argue that Christian authors should be very encouraged by this sign: the opportunities for excellent writing to gain a wider cultural recognition have never been greater. So for all of us who share the concern about Christian books being unfairly limited, you can add your cheer to the chorus.

I'll keep you posted. Keep that hope alive.

Depicting life vs. Sanitizing

Lauren Winner on alcohol in Christian books:

"...the increasing willingness of Christian publishers to show casual imbibing may be another step in the direction of depicting, rather than sanitizing, ordinary American life."

I love the way Lauren says this, distilling the distinction (so to speak). "Depicting rather than sanitizing." If art reflects life, isn't including real depictions of ordinary American life in Christian books a worthwhile goal? Can Christian books honestly portray the tension we all feel living, working, and writing in the real world? What is the difference between depicting evil and glorifying it--and is there a right answer for everyone or is it up to the individual?

A famous former Pharisee once said all things are lawful for those covered by grace. All things. Does that give us a license to kill? Of course not. But for those who know grace, the law is no longer our measuring stick. We now consider which things are beneficial, which things build up, which things educate, enlighten, and bring deeper appreciation of God and his work.

There can be no right or wrong about truthful depictions of ordinary American life. The law does not apply. The question every grace-covered reader must ask is, does this truthful depiction benefit me and my view of the world and God? (And if it isn't a truthful depiction, should I be reading it?) It's no good to blame the creator for his accurate depiction of life. If we fail to grasp Paul's distinction here, we pay artists a huge disservice.

No Christian book should portray the decision to drink as anything other than a personal value judgment. But in accurately depicting American life, non-drinkers must accept that alcohol exists in the world and is therefore within the purview of all our lives, whether we like it or not. We can't hide from it; it will influence us anyway. And what good would hiding from alcohol do for those locked in its grip? I would argue that many of the books Winner refers to here would do little to change the law-based restrictions placed on Christian books if they didn't depict the consequences of a predisposition to alcoholism. Casual drinking by responsible adults doesn't accurately reflect the damage alcohol has caused to countless lives--and again, the truth is, we're all affected. I greatly appreciated Lisa Samson's novel, Straight Up for this reason (among others). Books like hers do a lot to educate readers while entertaining.

The familiar complaints about slipping standards in Christian publishing will continue to come in. But I'm trying to welcome them and agree with Lauren: there is hope on the horizon. We may well continue to see the standard in Christian publishing shifting from "clean" to "true."