Into the Fire

Okay, some of it is unintentional. Nevertheless, inexcusable.

Because what it’s really saying is this: Why can’t others write as good as me? Why can’t others strive for excellence like I do? Why can’t others produce the kind of effort that I extend to make my writing as perfect as I can? Why can’t readers discern the pulp from the profound and appreciate the labor it takes to write something as meaningful as I’ve written? Why can’t publishers be more discerning and only give us books that rise above the mundane and common?

Authors are a unique bunch. You do get the humble with the haughty, that’s for sure. The hacks with the heroic. The daring and the delicious. The dark and the didactic.

I can’t tell you how many times newly introduced novelists expound on how it takes an excellent story, well-written, to break through the publishing curtain. What is it they’ve written? Chick-lit or a mystery? Of course this is fostered by the common bonds of expression they parrot from the pros. And, granted, what are agents and editors going to say other than “Write the best story you can write because only the best will be published”? Even though, it’s all a matter of opinion.

I apologize to keep harping on the point in different ways, but don’t you think it’s a valid point? Next thing we’ll be hearing from these writers is that Jesus (when He walked the earth) was a snob, too, because . . . Huh? Because they always use the example of God demanding the most excellent craftsmen to build the temple of God. And my response to that is always: Yeah, and who gave those craftsmen their excellence? And who is supposed to receive the praise and glory for all excellence, good, and perfection? Not man.

The craft, the desire to seek after excellence in anything, to pursue the heights of creativity—it’s all God inspired, acknowledged or not. When “not”, it’s a matter of the flesh, the exclamation of the ego seeking to glorify itself, to point to “me” and “my” achievements. Even in Christians.

And I think it’s a shame. I really do.

I think sometimes we get confused about what is pleasing to God. We forget all about the obedience factor, the effort it sometimes takes to actually do the task set before us by the living God, the One who takes us to any of those heights we often seek for ourselves instead of for Him. We justify our efforts, our labors, our exquisite pain in creating our masterpieces and rail against those little novels which seem to pop up like so many kernels of corn in microwave popcorn. How dare those authors be mentioned with the likes of the designated authors of the classics—take your pick of which author you would proclaim. How weak the general public reader must be to pick up those rags to read and then to share how much they love the stories!

CBA fiction takes a lot of hits, and as much as I’ve read in “Christian fiction” I can say with some authority that there are some poorly written novels in the bunch. In fact, I’ve reviewed a couple here. And there are some magnificent authors in the overall genre as I’ve also reviewed here. The point is—again—for every single novel that I thought was not so good, there were others who truly loved it.

When we belittle and insult the craft of other authors, it speaks volumes about how we view ourselves. And the noise I hear is obnoxious snobbery.

Father, help each one of us to do what you have for us to do to the best of those abilities that you’ve given us as an offering to you. Let us be about our own individual business and not try to determine what you’ve designed for others. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.