The Crying Game

Or perhaps I should say the Crying Test. It's familiar to all of us: if you've ever edited manuscripts or acted as a slush editor--I hope if you've ever written a story, poem, or play--you've encountered it. "This must be of God--it made me cry."

Now, there's some truth to that. I tend to respond to the touch of God that way myself. But it's also true, as I bluntly put it not so long ago, that people cry watching Bambi. In fact, I have occasionally read stories that I found extremely moving, and that annoying part of my mind that I have painstakingly trained for such moments (it is not natural) would spoil the moment by informing me that the thing was theologically bad. I need that part of my mind: without it, I could easily be blown back and forth by my emotions.

I have been deeply moved by stories that denied the resurrection, the sinlessness of Christ, and other major doctrines. I have been brought to tears by texts that promoted secularism, pantheism, and other evils. Sometimes you have to shake yourself free of the work's spell--for all art is a kind of enchantment--and force yourself to think. And if you do, you'll always be pilloried by those who can't or won't bother to do the same.

It's still worth it.

You see, it's better to force yourself to be bloody-minded (by the power of the Blood) about art than to find yourself crying more painfully later over something you shouldn't have allowed in to begin with.

About Dark World

I thought I should explain a bit about Dark World and why I'm doing it. The simple answer is to try something different.

I don't mess with critique groups anymore, for the simple reason that I don't find them useful. (Others do; this isn't a blanket condemnation.) So I was told that I should change a past tense verb to the past tense, and various people advised me to do things that are ungrammatical (many writers are apparently functionally illiterate) or wouldn't mean what I wanted to say. There was an extreme example where someone looked over two chapters of a story, was ABSOLUTELY SURE she knew what I was trying to do, and explained at great length how to do it properly. I replied that I wasn't trying to do that at all, and I even detailed how the story did work. Her response was that I should abandon my project and do the sort of story (a Narnia knock-off) that she envisioned.

So I gave up on crit groups. But a complaint I encountered a few times was that I never put forward a work in progress, only stories I had more or less finished and even polished. I don't like people looking over my shoulder while I work, and I have enough trouble with kibbitzers trying to second-guess my intentions in finished works; I don't want to think what they would do with something obviously unfinished, which they would surely consider more open to meddling.

My writing style would annoy such people anyway. Not only do I tend to edit as I go, so my rough drafts look polished, I also get back into the story in progress after a break by re-reading (and thus re-editing) the previous chapter or so.

Yet the idea of just sitting down and writing something without my usual procedures appealed to me. I didn't want to write a complete chapter every day, just two or three a week. And anyone who wants to see what my rough drafts look like may now do so.

Cyndere's Midnight 5: A Response to some responses, part two

This time I'll be looking at a comment from Robert Treskillard. It's a long comment, so I'll try to keep my responses short.

1) Your comparison of Cyndere and Ryllion. Ryllion's story we know, and we can see clearly he is "religious" and deceived. I think our modern American culture is also "religious" and deceived.

Cyndere, on the other hand, doesn't believe in the Moon Spirits (non-religious), but then again, she's been given nothing else to believe in. Sounds also like many modern Americans.

Both points are true, but there is a true faith in America as well. There is apparently none in the Expanse. Where is God? He isn't the Keeper, which is interesting because the Keeper must be God and yet is specifically said by the author not to be God. (Look at how the Keeper is described. I may go into this later, but the identification is unavoidable yet avoided.) So if Cyndere is given nothing to believe in, that's Overstreet's fault or God's. Flip a coin.

Even biblical pagans apparently were able to know God: Melchizedek lived in a pagan area and described God in pagan terms, yet he evidently knew God. Balaam was in a similar position, though he didn't make good use of the knowledge. I suspect Job is another example. So why doesn't even Scharr Ben Fray seem to know God even in an Old Testament fashion? I see morality (a little, anyhow) and ethics (lots of that), but no God. Why?

But her story isn't *done* yet. At the end of this book, she calls out to "whomever" will help her, she is seeking the truth and who she can trust in. And just because we don't see her convert in book 2 to "proper religion" (even in terms of the Expanse), we need to wait until the entire series is finished before we jump to judgment.

There is no "proper religion" in terms of the Expanse, unless you mean "knowing the Keeper," which doesn't work because the Keeper isn't God.

I did feel a brief uptick when Cyndere cries out for help, but the larger context argues against it. Since the general feel of the stories allows only a nebulous supernatural entity, I can't help finding a mere sop here. You say the story isn't done yet. True. But remember what Peter and John said: do you honestly believe that they could get through two books--700 pages or more--without a fairly solid reference to what they could not help talking about?

Nor do I see any hope of a change in the third book. The logic of the details given in the story thus far absolutely require that the Keeper in some sense be God--or else the Devil. There is no logical alternative. Yet Overstreet rejects the God option, and the Devil option would be nearly impossible at this point as well. This is why I can confidently "jump to judgment": there is a contradiction here that cannot be resolved unless the author retracts his expressed intention, which I don't see happening.

2) Your reference to C.S. Lewis brings up an excellent point, but you are forgetting about the example of Tolkien. I think the two of them gave us different examples, one who's work "rings true and shows a clear morality" yet does not include direct or clear references to God (Tolkien), and one who was much more clear about his Christian themes (Lewis). Both of their works show a Christian foundation, and I think Overstreet is following the Tolkien route. Are you saying Tokein was immature in his faith? Are you applying the same attacks to him? He was the one that led Lewis to faith.

This is complex for the following reasons:

1. It's untrue. Seriously, while there is no Evangelical Protestant message to speak of in Tolkien, that's because he was Catholic. No religion? Nonsense. What about the prayers and hymns to Elbereth, who I think must be seen as a Mary figure? If Overstreet had even that, I wouldn't be so bothered, despite my misgivings concerning overemphasis on Mary. But there is a "true faith" in Middle Earth, and a God who can be known, if only mediately. Where is that in Overstreet's work?

2. It's irrelevant. You're making a few invalid assumptions here. First, maturity and immaturity have nothing whatever to do with being used to lead someone to God. I've heard of people who have come to God through Jesus Christ, Superstar, which specifically claims that Jesus did not rise from the dead. If God can use something blasphemous to reach people, immaturity will prove no obstacle.

Second, you're assuming that Tolkien's and Lewis' works are equivalent. I see no evidence of that. While Tolkien's work is magisterial from a scholarly and literary standpoint, I find no reason to suppose that it is of particular spiritual or eternal merit. I suspect that from God's standpoint, Lewis is by far the more important writer. It's easy to find people who have been drawn to God through Lewis' work, rather harder to find such witnesses for Tolkien. (I don't say they don't exist; by my previous point I would expect them to. But in terms of overall spiritual impact, I would be astonished if Tolkien was anywhere close to Lewis.)

3) I feel like you're caricaturing Jeffrey Overstreet. To quote you: "hell bent ... to be different", an "individualist ... indistinguishable from others", unobvious faith in writing = immaturity, "camouflage [his] intentions", and "won't submit [his] imagination to God".

Now, its possible you were just railing against generic positions and not intending these things to be directed specifically at Mr. Overstreet, but it seems to me that this is directed at him.

Maybe it will help if I requote myself, adding the magic ingredient "context":

Unfortunately, this is something I see quite often, and usually in *writers* with above-average gifts. *They're* so determined (or more bluntly "hell-bent") that *they* are going to be different.

For the curious thing about these *individualists* is how indistinguishable *they* are from one another.

*Some* say that *they* have to camouflage *their* intentions to be read.

If *you* won't submit *your* imagination to God, *you* will inevitably conform to the world. [I'll grant that the immediate context here is ambiguous: I refer to "stories," which could technically be either Overstreet's or those of the group I was already describing. The overall context favors the latter.]

If I were a bit more paranoid, I might imagine that you changed the plurals (indicating a group--I've never accused Overstreet of Multiple Personality Disorder) to singular in an attempt to caricature me.

And I bet it would hurt if he read it, and I think its unfair. How do you know his motivations? How do you know how he lives his life? How he witnesses? How his books will end? Just because his writing isn't "obvious" (yet?) doesn't mean he is anything like your caricatures.

I'm talking very little about his motivations, life, witnessing, or ultimate plot resolutions. I'm talking about the available data. I do find it curious that you keep referring to the idea that some blinding flash of faith will yet illumine the Expanse. Perhaps so. But it's rather like holding out hope for a deathbed conversion: such things do happen, but in general there is a kind of momentum that leads those who have spent their lives rejecting God to keep doing so even in the shadow of the grave.

This is not so desperate a case, of course, but that momentum exists in stories as well. After a while, the writer is pretty much committed to maintain the established course. It's rather like Waiting for Godot, except that there it would be less surprising if Godot did turn up at the last minute. At least we've heard enough about him.

Will this hurt Overstreet's feelings? I actually hope not. He is, as I have said, a writer of unusual talent. I have read some of his non-fiction and found an inexplicable gulf between it and his fiction. I suppose it's really that which troubles me: if his non-fiction were as secular as his fiction, I would reach a different conclusion. But it isn't: and a paradox or contradiction results. Overstreet really doesn't belong in the group with which he now keeps company; may he leave it. But in the meantime it is reasonable to warn readers of the association.

Cyndere's Midnight 4: A Response to some responses, part one

Among the responses to my posts were a few that call for more than just a brief comment. Taking this in either post order or by "ladies first," I'll begin with Rebecca Miller's comment on the second post.

"I see the whole beastman thing as a metaphor for our sin nature."

That's clear enough, but mostly from a Christian standpoint. After all, not everyone in the Expanse is a beastman, and all of them are more or less flawed. Given the general secularism of the story, it's quite possible to see only a drug reference. For that matter, though my reasoning is rather involved, I halfway suspect a reference to jihadists and their cultural/religious "drug" of xenophobic hatred. But this leads to another point:

"But is that me thinking the way I think or is this actually what Jeffrey wanted to communicate through his story? Or is he writing a story without any intention, which allows for multiple interpretations?

"There's the crux of the problem of this current popular trend among Christian writers to eschew theme."

This is a problem, and it's particularly troubling that Christians are following the world here. It's pointless to ask what someone means when he means nothing at all, and it's selfish to deliver a story "some assembly required." That doesn't mean the theme has to be obvious, but it does need to exist. Otherwise it's a story without a point.

It's also true that we subconsciously create or find themes. As I have been writing "Pandora's Lamp," the origin series for the League of Superheroes,I've gained and lost themes. (That's also why I made sure I was mostly through with the origin series before the first book went to press.) But there's a difference between unintended developments and unintended purpose. The first derives from imperfect knowledge; the second stems from intellectual laziness.

The Christian must always ask, "What am I modeling?" We are made in God's image, and if we obey God, we will become like him. Does God create without purpose? Many modern Christians evidently think so, which is why they are keen to ignore Design in their own work. This has dangerous consequences.

I'm appalled when I see "Creation versus Evolution" presented as the ultimate crisis. It isn't. The real divide is "Design versus Chance." You see, pagan gods were creators too, but they usually created at random. And many Christians act as though God creates randomly as well. This is reflected in the "Aurelia Thread" series by (among other things) the reflexive and politically correct equation of men and women. Put another way, they are not simply equal but congruent: ignoring objective data about physiology, he asserts that male and female fighters co-exist routinely in a roughly medieval setting. That's nonsense on several levels, theological among them.

I believe in a Designer, not just a Creator. So where there are differences, as there certainly are between men and women, they are not happenstance. They are meaningful. And unless I understand the meaning, I cannot understand the differences.

Unfortunately in this and other points, Overstreet is roughly in the same position as an atheistic evolutionist: yes, differences exist, and they do derive from something--some factor lost in the fog of prehistory that, combined with a fortunate mutation, set the pattern for the sexes to work one way and not another. But the differences are neither designed nor currently relevant: we may, even should, ignore them. Trans-sexualism and transhumanism show that we can reverse-engineer ourselves. If there is a Designer, especially an omniscient, loving one, that's not a good idea. But a mere Creator may be improved on.

In any case, as agents of the Source of Meaning, Christian writing should be more meaningful than non-Christian writing: we should be overflowing in the midst of the secular drought.

In my next post, I'll take up a longer response from Robert Treskillard.

Donita K. Paul Interview

I usually just review books, but I thought I'd break over and do an actual interview. But first, an overview based on the interview:

Donita Kathleen Paul was born November 20, 1950 in Lawrence, KS to Arthur Norman and Elnora Evelyn Foster Paul.

My father was an industrial, mechanical, and civil engineer. If WWII hadn’t interfered, he would have had a doctorate. Instead, he designed airplanes that wouldn’t fall out of the sky, even when riddled with bullet holes.

My mother taught and taught teachers how to teach for the Methodist church. My mother was a farm gal who furthered her education through fiction. She had an astounding vocabulary, a knowledge of many cultures, and ended up being a world traveler.

I had three older brothers, David, Stephen, and Jon. That meant there was a brother to hold my feet, one to hold my arms, and one to tickle.

Every one of us and many of our extended family were storytellers. Swapping tall tales at a family gathering was normal. One of my brothers was an oil executive and went to cocktail parties all over the world. He was known for what amounted to a stand-up comedy routine about his perception of his childhood. If you ask other members of the family, these accounts were fiction, or fictionalized truth, or out and out fabrication. At his funeral, his business associates were astonished to meet his seemingly normal family.

I graduated from High School in 1968. University of Houston in 1973 with a BS in Elementary Education.

I taught elementary grades in public and private schools until I retired in 1996.

Married, divorced, with two children.

(In case anyone wonders: I asked about all that because I couldn't find it online. And I'm nosy.)

The regular interview questions:

I was mildly surprised that you never commented on using dragons. Despite Bryan Davis' arguments to the contrary, the Biblical image of dragons is overwhelmingly negative. I can think of only one positive reference--Psalm 104:26. Do you consider this an issue? (For what it's worth, I can think of a possible defense; I just wonder about your views.)

I do not think the use of dragons is an issue any more than talking teapots or bears of very little brain. This is fiction!

I use many elements in my story to be allegorical. With all allegories, you must be careful not to carry them too far. They represent something that they are not. The minor dragons represent gifts God has bestowed on people: healing, music, ability to read and retain, providing light in the darkness, to name a few.

When the characters sit down for tea or a meal, that is allegorical as well. It signifies resting in the Lord and refueling from His Strength.

Why don’t I get called on the carpet for tea?

A dragon is a symbol for something evil in the Bible.

A fish was a fish until the symbol evolved as a sign for Christians.

A cross was a symbol of shameful death.

I have dragons who are good and some who are not.

The business of the Principles is also puzzling. I admit I haven't read the earlier books, just the last one for an upcoming blog tour, but it's almost like the local Bible consists only of Proverbs and the Psalms. Is there more?

The principles are mostly from the Proverbs. In DragonSpell there is mention of a story of how Wulder rewarded the generosity of the urohm people. And at another time, someone says that the Tomes are filled with guidelines for life and the history of how Wulder has worked in His creation. My intention was not to rewrite the Bible, but to use principles from Scripture in a fictional setting. Hopefully, the reader picks up on Truth that applies universally.

For that matter, has there been an Incarnation, or is that handled differently? Or has it perhaps not yet come up?

I admit to steering clear of recreating Christ. I feel Lewis did that with Aslan. He did it well, and I don’t feel the need to try to capture the essence of the Greatest Story in my fiction. Maybe God will impress upon me at a later date to do so, but I have no inclination now.

The Dragon Keeper Chronicles are about the Christian walk, how a person relates to God through acceptance of oneself, relationship to others, and glorifying the Creator in all he/she does.

There is no salvation message. As it turns out, it has been an evangelical tool in that readers have said to me, "I didn’t know being a Christian was like that. I’m going to learn more about Christianity."

That is gratifying, but certainly is not my work, but that of the Holy Spirit.

Onward, Christian Writers: No Neutrality II

The previous post generated some positive and negative comment, and I should explain a few points.

No enclaves. It has been objected that an overt Christian message would put Christians into a literary ghetto. Actually, we're already there, and we won't get out until we fight our way clear. We already have the reputation of following the world rather than pioneering, yet any proper study of literature would tell you that much of modern literature parasitizes from Christianity.

That's as it should be.

Instead, we are the Elvis impersonators of the literary and musical world. We turn out second-rate copies of stuff that isn't even worth a first-rate copy.

Subtlety. Subtlety can work--in a different world. People today are generally too ignorant of the Bible (and that includes Christian writers) to notice subtlety, much less produce it properly. Can God use it anyway? Of course; Jesus Christ, Superstar is outright blasphemous--it ends with Jesus very much dead and in many stagings Judas resurrected--but it also contains a lot of Scripture, and people have gotten saved as a result. "Subtle" Christian fiction seldom does even that well. But that doesn't justify blasphemy. (It might justify using Scripture, however.)

If God requires you to go this route, fine. You can count on him to bless the result as you submit to his leading. I doubt this happens much, though. My experience is that a writer will blame God (He told me to write it this way!) initially, only to turn around and rewrite the credits (It's MY story!). But be very sure you totally immerse yourself in Scripture. Turn off the TV and radio (including Christian programs) and give yourself over to prayer and Bible reading. It'll probably take you a month just to get the toxins out. Otherwise your "subtlety" will be nothing more than spouting what you've taken in, and most of it won't be the Gospel truth.

Vive la Différence! One of the big problems is that we try to blend in. We tell the unsaved that we're just like them. But if there's no difference, what's the difference? Groucho Marx heard about a nude musical (I think it was Hair) and stripped off in front of a full-length mirror. He said he didn't see anything worth buying a ticket for.

Neither do unbelievers. If our faith makes so little difference in our lives, if we can blend in that easily, we might as well stop pretending and drop the Christian act.

The side with the better narrative wins--and that should be us! Our story is more shocking, powerful, and beautiful than theirs--and it happens to be true. Let them borrow from us, not vice versa.

But I admit that back in the 1980s I fell for this idea myself for a while. Then I noticed that it didn't work. In fact, when unbelievers finally tumbled to the fact that a subtle story had Christian leanings, they usually felt betrayed. I encountered some very negative remarks about that.

On the other hand, what people want is something fresh and different. Got it. In today's post-Christian world, a lot of people are more curious than hostile, and practically everyone respects someone who's up front with his views. (Think about how popular blogs are! No pussyfooting there!) I know of one case in particular where atheists and others hostile to Christianity still strongly supported an overtly Christian novel because they respected the writer's candor and talent. If we hit them with full-force Christianity, we'll make a few enemies and a lot of converts.

Obedience. But more important, we'll be obeying God. If we continue with "wink-wink, nudge-nudge" writing, we invite the charge that we're ashamed of the Gospel. Why else sneak around? The early Christians were very in-your-face about their faith, and they turned the world upside down.

What will we do? And what will we answer when God asks in the end what we did with what he gave us? Burying the gift in the uncontroversial sands of subtilizing is not an option.

Never Ceese 6: Why It Matters

This has produced a bit more chat and less discussion than I had hoped. To clarify what I've said so far, I've repeatedly acknowledged that the book is well written. I do have problems with the logic and theology, and these are not based on whether certain models for werewolves and vampires are followed. Rather, the question is whether there is a model. From what I see, I doubt it. There are logical contradictions and theological problems:

Richard is both dead and alive simultaneously. His heart apparently does not beat, but his blood evidently circulates; he does not breathe, except when he does, and his physiology simultaneously is and is not normal.

His curse appears to be mere suggestion (his aversion to "holy" things acts like a psychological phenomenon), yet it has effects (levitation, not showing up in mirrors, etc.) that psychology cannot explain, unless we allow psionic activity, which is theologically troublesome.

The curse is also a problem because it can be addressed (at least partially) through non-spiritual means. It's like curing a demoniac with electric shock therapy. This implies that the spiritual is simply another form of the physical--a view that can't be reconciled with the Bible.

Then there's the matter of someone who has been convincingly declared dead getting all chatty at the end. ("Oh, yes, I was dead, but I'm better now. It was only the 24-hour death, you know.") All in all, a splendid argument for cremation.

Okay, so what? Why does it matter? Can't we just do simple fiction? Simple answer: no.

There are at least two reasons for this. To begin with, Christians are indwelt by the omnipotent, omniscient Creator of the Universe; we have "eternal life," which properly does not mean merely life that keeps going like a drum-banging rabbit, but life that is from outside the Universe itself.

We can't be ordinary. Nothing we do can be ordinary. And it is nearly blasphemy to say otherwise: it's like saying the Atonement never happened.

One of the things that got Israel into a lot of trouble was the idea that they wanted to be like other nations, with idols, a human king, and so forth. It didn't work, because they were God's chosen people, and he wouldn't let them be ordinary.

Sound familiar? When we say that we want to produce dreck like everyone else (and we certainly try), aren't we doing the same thing? But we're called to a higher standard, and we can't escape it. (And for the record, no, I'm not calling Never Ceese dreck. I'm speaking generally.)

But there's another reason: we are our brother's keeper. You may say you're not a teacher, but just as we are all witnesses to those around us, so all Christian writers are teachers to their audience, especially if that includes the unsaved, which is hard to avoid. When they read our stuff, they'll say, "So that's what Christians think about X." Like it or not, we've just taught someone something, and given the various warnings about false and careless teachers in the Bible, we'd better hope we taught them well.

(This is why I don't think Christians should write unless it's part of their gifting as teachers, evangelists, prophets, apostles, or whatever. There are plenty of unsaved people out there doing their own thing; we don't need any more like them from our own crowd. We don't even need all the pagan writers we have! But people who write as unto the Lord are a rare gift.)

And thus my fussiness about details. We do all this as unto the Lord, so we should be careful, especially in theological speculation. We all err, despite our best intentions, and we must trust God to make up for our ignorance and folly. But we owe it to him to do our best.

Horror as it Should Be

Horror is one of the most profoundly theological genres of fiction. Other genres can be theological (or at least religious) without much effort, but the implications of horror are essentially theological. It deals with the life to come, the meaning and limits of humanity, and so on.

That's why it's so truly horrible when it goes wrong. The cheap scare, the sleazy accompaniment to the gasps--comic relief is better than jiggle, but not as marketable--all signs of shallow horror. It's probably the hardest genre to do right, given the theological weight, but it's too effective to leave to people who don't even understand the symbols they're using. At least the early Hollywood horror movies acknowledged their sources. Nowadays that's played as camp. But our guide for good fiction of any kind is always based on Philippians 4:8--Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-- think about such things. (NIV) Writing by this rule will always be true to its sources.

The other side of the problem is people who go for the gasp even if the theology is bad--assuming that they can be bothered to check it at all. One of the reasons I'm writing my essay on fictional demonology is to give would-be horror writers some idea of how horror can be handled in a theologically responsible way.

Acknowledge your sources. Know your sources. Remember the limitation of fear and of fiction: you can at best spark a teachable moment in your reader. But don't throw that moment away!

Stopping a Goliath, part two

Murray the Alchemist: Last time, we tried the brute force approach with Titan. This time, we'll use finesse and maybe get a better explosion. My lovely assistant Tachyon--I know, don't ask about my social life--will use his mastery of time and a pack of gum to wipe out a Goliath.

Titan: I like how eager the volunteers are, but they're crowding the stage. I'll brush 'em back with my gun.

Calamity Kid: That's some gun. You know we don't kill, don't you?

Titan: It's okay. I'm just blowing their mechanical legs off. They can still applaud.

MtA: Okay, Tachyon, your job is to chew this pack of gum in a couple seconds.

Tachyon: That's more Titan's job--he has the super mouth. But I'll do it. Gah! That was bad! I won't be able to open my mouth at all tomorrow.

Titan: Which proves God still does miracles after all.

MtA: Now stick it in one of the smaller barrels of that Goliath.

CK: You've gotta be kidding!

Titan: No, it'll work: the gum doesn't have to stop the ammo, just slow it down enough that the explosive force behind the bullet has nowhere to go for a moment. There! See? Like that.

CK: Okay, but we still don't have suits that let us speed up time.

Tachyon: Talk to your wardrobe people.

CK: The deal was, you guys would show us how to stop Goliaths. So far, it's stuff we can't do.

MtA: What's the "CK" for, "Constant Kvetcher"? Shut up and learn! I guess you can't send a superhero to do an alchemist's job, though, and the last few explosions have been pretty pathetic. I wouldn't mind a gun like Titan's...

Titan: Private property, Murray. It'll go boom if a non-superhero messes with it.

MtA: So it's time for my never-fail method. Here, I'll slip off the robe and put this on...

Goliath: Surrender, Fundi dog!

MtA: Hey, watch who you're calling a Fundi! I'm from the pizza place on the corner--that's right, the one you bozos almost blew up! We'll give you a free pizza to aim at someone else.

Goliath: Your pizzas are that effective as weapons? Oh, no, wait. You mean a bribe, right? Okay, I'm good with that. But remove any pepperoni first! I wasn't born yesterday.

MtA: Your loss--they're the best part. Okay, there. Now say "Aah"!

Goliath: Wait--I didn't want anchov--

[Earth-shattering KABOOM]

MtA: Idiot. Only an amateur would mine the pepperoni. Anchovies are better for that, and since no one eats them anyway, it's no loss.

CK: Why didn't the blast kill you?

Titan: Murray's immune to explosions. And every pesticide we've tried so far.

CK: Okay, but what about the pizza? How'd you get it in there?

MtA: C'mon, you don't think a guy would get into something like that if it shut him off from pizza, do you? There had to be a pizza delivery slot.

CK: It's not in the specs.

MtA: That's the kind of important info you only get by word of mouth. Like a secret handshake.

CK: How can you get a secret handshake by... Hey, wait! The Goliath operator is lying there with his eyes exed out! I told you we don't kill!

Titan: Relax. It's just a cartoony way of saying he's in his happy place. And Darklight says this is gonna be an unhappy place in just a minute, so we'd better leave before the janitors show up. They hate people who leave a mess behind. We can discuss this over lunch.

MtA: I'll bring the pizza!

What others say:
Fantasy Thyme
jamessomers.blogspot.com
Write and Whine
Hoshi to Sakura
Wayfarer's Journal
BlogCritics Interview
Daniel I Weaver
Disturbing the Universe
Grace Bridges
Queen of Convolution
Virtual Tour de 'Net
Christian Fiction Review Blog
Yellow30 Sci-Fi: Review
Yellow30 Sci-Fi: Interview
MaryLu Tyndall
Cathi's Chatter

The Book, etc.:
FrankCreed.com
BooksoftheUnderground.com
Purchase Flashpoint at Amazon.com
Purchase signed copies of Flashpoint

Frank Creed: The Genuine Fake Interview

I was going to interview Frank Creed, author of Flashpoint, but a few of my own characters (mostly Darklight, who can change his appearance) decided to hijack the proceedings on the grounds that their responses will be more colorful and controversial than his.

Could be.

Ansric: So you're Frank Creed.

FC: As close as you're getting to him, anyway.

Ansric: And you're a cat.

FC: What, that again? "Oh, you're a cat! Read any good mice lately?" What's everyone's problem?

Ansric: Well, we kind of get the impression you're human.

FC: That's Scott Morris. I don't know why people get us mixed up; we don't look that much alike. I've told him to shave his beard.

Ansric: And on your Shoutlife photo page, you're listed as "Mavis."

FC: Have you tried publishing something like Flashpoint as "Mavis the Cat"? I have to use a pen-name.

Ansric: But isn't "Frank Creed" just a pen-name for Scott Morris?

FC: Ha! No way! Scott can't write!

Ansric: Really?

FC: Not even a grocery list. It's sad. That's why I do all the writing.

Ansric: So what does Scott do?

FC: Carries me around, mostly. And he types. He's a good typist. Well, good enough that his wife can clean up his work.

Ansric: You can't type?

FC: Not with these paws. Computers are supposed to improve access, you know, but they still don't have a cat-friendly interface. And don't do any mouse jokes.

Ansric: Do you ever bring your, uh, feline viewpoint to your stories?

FC: I try, but The Man is always censoring me.

Ansric: "The Man"?

FC: Your species as a whole. Not that I'm prejudiced. I tried getting a story through recently, but The Man blocked me.

Ansric: I'm sorry to hear that.

FC: Yeah, but I'm rollin' now. I have my own Shoutlife page under my own name. Scott's been doing his usual cutesy stuff, but I've been talking to Calamity Kid, and he thinks it's time for a coup.

Ansric: Okay, thanks for sharing that. But what about Flashpoint? Did your felinity influence the story?

FC: Of course! You don't think a human would come up with all the "wire-fu" stuff in the book, do you? Cats have been doing that forever! The book's about action, and cats are all about action. That and day-long naps.

Ansric: So do you hope to be the first cat in the Who's Who of Wu Shu?

FC: Maybe.

Ansric: I bet you can't say it five times fast, though.

FC: It. It. It. It. It-- Gah! Got a hairball on that last one!

Ansric: Well, that looks like an interview-ending injury to me, so we'll post some links that can't help but be more informative:

What others say:
Fantasy Thyme
jamessomers.blogspot.com
Write and Whine
Hoshi to Sakura
Wayfarer's Journal
BlogCritics Interview
Daniel I Weaver
Disturbing the Universe
Grace Bridges
Queen of Convolution
Virtual Tour de 'Net
Christian Fiction Review Blog
Yellow30 Sci-Fi: Review
Yellow30 Sci-Fi: Interview
MaryLu Tyndall
Cathi's Chatter

The Book, etc.:
FrankCreed.com
BooksoftheUnderground.com
Purchase Flashpoint at Amazon.com
Purchase signed copies of Flashpoint

The Horror!

And now, a sight so horrifying it will probably scar you for life. If you're like me, you're a junior geezer with a lot of scars already, so one more won't matter. But for the kiddies, note: Please ask your parents first. It will probably go like this:

You: Is it okay if I look at something on the Web that will scar me for life?

Mom: Is it kinky or illegal?

You: Uh... No.

Mom: Then your father probably hasn't seen it yet. Ask him.

Dad: Does it cost money?

You: No.

Parents: Great! We'll get the popcorn!


Anyway, click if you dare! (It'll prepare you for the next few days...)

The Story of a Mother

Today's story has a message. If you try that in modern writing and aren't a Big Name, they'll probably say it's "preachy" or "heavyhanded," synonyms that appear to mean, "Hey! How come you got a spine and I don't?" Worse yet, it's a message that contradicts modern soundbite piety.

Andersen's still right.

In other news, I said I'd explain why you should have a message (and a calling, too) or shut up. It's simple: writers today are effectively either teachers or prophets, and if you aren't called as either one, shut up. There's enough nattering already.

You can be in a subgroup (encouraging and exhorting are essentially types of prophecy, as I understand it), but unless God gives you something to say, you shouldn't say it anyway.

Now, I've encountered people who want it both ways. If you point out a theological or scriptural problem, they'll say, "Well, it's fiction. It's for Entertainment Purposes Only." (Just like a phone-in psychic! How cool is that?)

"Well, if it's just fiction, what's the harm in correcting it a bit?"

"I can't do that! GOD gave me this story!"

He gave you an unchangeable story For Entertainment Purposes Only? Cosmic!

Now, if the story is God-given, you are a teacher at least, more likely a prophet. And presumably God doesn't contradict what he says in the Bible. This is why it's astonishing how few Christian writers bother to read the Bible or otherwise check their facts. (Remember what used to happen to false prophets...)

The truth is more important than Your Story. Even if you think you're writing For Entertainment Purposes Only, you aren't. Just like sports and entertainment celebrities are role models even if they say they aren't, you're teaching your reader whether you like it or not. Shape up or shut up.

The Loveliest Rose in the World

Okay, again it's Andersen, but this time more in your face: The Loveliest Rose in the World.

So, would this story make it today? In some areas, perhaps. What's the problem? Well, it must be with readers, writers, or editors/publishers (or some combination thereof).

Is it readers? To the extent that they aren't reading this sort of thing, yes, and that we can blame on parents and teachers (in that order) who aren't doing their job. But there are readers--plenty of them, I think--who would read this.

Writers? Most of them are in roughly the same boat as the readers, though they usually read more. (Unfortunately, it's usually modern dreck.)

So that leaves editors and publishers. Why do they tend to avoid stuff like this? Let's be blunt: it's generally moral cowardice bolstered with ignorance. They say it won't sell because it's old-fashioned. So's Jane Austin, and she's done pretty well over the last decade. Too preachy? What about the "Left Behind" series? The Christian Booksellers Association is more likely to go for something like this, but its members ultimately worship the bottom line too much to risk even something that isn't that risky. A lot of new "independent" Christian publishers seem to be stuck in stealth mode: they don't want to antagonize non-Christians (who watch a lot of Christian TV and listen to a lot of Christian radio and music anyway), so they are effectively Christian in name only.

So what's the answer? I think it's up to the writers to fulfill their calling regardless of what others do. God will find an audience for his message. You say you don't have a message? Then please-please-please shut up. I'll back that up tomorrow.