Into the Fire

Some authors refrain from exposing themselves too deeply and maybe some can even write fiction without revealing who they really are, but there's something about writing stories, developing a fictional plot and characters, and believing in the novel enough to either self-publish (indie) or persist in the hoop-jumping to get it traditionally published that indicates the author hopes some kind of relatable truth will attach readers to the story. Whatever the process and however the story is told and made available, those books tend to tell us things, often subtle implications, about the author who writes them. 

Francine Rivers tells me she knows the content of character and conduct of those in the world. Let me just say it's difficult to truly know and capture the depths of those who've lived or live in the world without having experienced it for yourself. Not saying it can't be done, but it's unlikely you can portray the core of it as Francine does. If you've been raised up well in the church and never strayed, you naturally don't fully know it. Her writing also tells me she understands real romance, sexual attraction, and falling in love. She portrays the attraction, descriptions of her characters, reactions to/from the opposite sexes, all of it. She gets it. And while living in the world is not the way we'd prefer to have experienced those things, it does provide the education to write about them truthfully from that point of view. 

Becky Wade shows me she's a true romantic with a knack for storytelling. Her background in the church gives her a natural, or some might say an organic, touch to weaving in the spiritual aspects of her stories. She's all female but understands the interactions, confusions, reactions, and the differences between men and women in their approaches to attraction and romance and their resistances to both if pertinent to the storyline and is respectful to both sexes in her portrayals. I can also recognize that she invests in her research of multiple locales and occupations which includes those observations of how males and females relate to each other. She celebrates and enjoys portraying the attractions of the opposite sexes. And does it well. 

Kristen Heitzmann indicates to me there are two primary things she wants to convey in her writing. Like me, she enjoys writing about the male psyche, the male reactions to females that attract them, capturing the boldness of a man's man in that process, and is not afraid to keep it real. Secondly, she wants her characters to stand out, to be "different", unique, to not fit into a mold. When she does romance, she makes it strong, giving it power with words, thoughts, and actions to convey how overwhelming it can be. I love the way she writes romance.  

These are three authors I've read repeatedly and respect immensely because they "get" romance. Each has her own voice and approach to writing a novel. I've given a partial picture of what I've learned about these three female novelists from reading their stories. 

I'll save what I have to say readers might have learned about me from my writing for Monday. 

Father, once again I thank you for your authors/writers. It's a pleasure to read the work of those who choose to honor you in their writing. Please bless them with more meaningful stories and encourage them in all they do. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Last Thursday I gave you a piece of my creation for the woman Mitch Rapp should love, an introduction to Christine Ravenswill. I promised there would be more to come, and here it continues. 

     Rapp examined her and noticed she met his gaze with an expression he rarely saw from women who looked at him. If he had to identify it, he’d call it empathy. Maybe because she’d come as close to experiencing the content of his rare lifestyle without ever physically having to live it. He dropped his defensive posture and cocked his head slightly to study her features.

     Finally, he said, “You look like him, you know.” He paused. “Your father.”

     Her lower lip dropped slightly, and tears instantly formed in her eyes. She reached behind to her desk for a Kleenex and blotted her eyes. “Thank you,” she replied quietly. “I didn’t know . . .”

     “It can be a small world sometimes.”

     Silence permeated the realization. He decided to let her take a moment, knowing the anguish that came from the remembrance. He watched her as she regained control. When he was sure she'd managed it, he added, "He was one of the few real heroes. He had a heart. That's one of the things I admired about him." Rapp stood again. "Thank you for understanding I don't want to be here, don't want to talk about myself, my pain, my life. It's not you. Seems pointless. It's done. It's not going to change. I chose this life. I'm sure the exit won't be . . . pretty."  

     She stood, carefully judging her motive first and then her next move. "Mr. Rapp–" 

     "It's Rapp or Mitch."

     "Rapp, would you consider having lunch with me? I'm starving and it would be good to have lunch in a non-professional environment. If you have time. I'm not the kind of girl who's going to analyze your every word and response in conversation. I usually eat alone. It would feel good to spend some time having a 'normal' lunch. Are you game?" 

     He gave her a look with a barely there smile. "Can I trust you?"

     She let out an abrupt laugh. "I don't know, can you?" 

This is way too much fun for me. I've wanted to write this woman for literally years. Christine Ravenswill is going to lunch with Mitch Rapp. What next? 

Father, only you give me words, inspiration, thoughts, insights. I'm just grateful for every one of them. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Stories give us characters, plots, twists, locations, laughs, tears, anger, and/or every other emotion known to mankind. They take place in all timelines, sometimes meshing those timelines, the future, the past, the contemporary, and whatever time and wherever a fantasy exists. The genres have been named, renamed, and given completely new names. They are written with innumerable styles, wit, clarity, depth, simplicity, intensity, humor, and/or sorrow. Their agendas are pronounced or fleeting, light-hearted or life-and-death drama. The authors who write them are equally similar and dissimilar. 

But what we learn about authors from reading many novels from the same authors and from those we first "meet" when reading their stories? Well, those deductions are sometimes as interesting and/or entertaining as the stories themselves. 

Tell me what you've learned in reading the novels from favorite authors. Not necessarily about how they write, but what have you discerned about them personally? Throw me in the mix if you've read any of my work.

I'll give my deductions of several authors I've read on Friday's post. And reveal some things about my work and what it tells the reader about me. Fair enough? 

Father, I can only speak for myself in this: apart from you, I can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

This is the theme song for the Amazon Prime 8 episode series of Jack Carr's first novel The Terminal List. I highly recommend the novel for thriller readers, but I caution those who can't do brutal because it is. As most have learned, Jack Carr is a former SEAL and much more. The James Reese Series is now at five novels and counting. All are reviewed on this blog. 

The script writers and multiple directors of these episodes of course took some liberties with the story but they did not compromise the integrity of the novel. I highly recommend watching this production, but I usually advise viewers to read the novel first, and I make no exception for The Terminal List. (Some profanity.)

Father, only you know hearts and minds. I pray your blessing over those who seek after you, to want to know you, to realize their need for you. Help them and those of us who know your Son to get closer to you through it all. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

May you have a God-blessed 4th of July in the real United States of America. 

Father, this is still your One Nation under God. Rescue us one more time. Please. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

     Jesus said, "For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind."

     Some Pharisees who were with him heard him say this and asked, "What? Are we blind too?" 

     Jesus said, "If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin; but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains."

John 9:39-41 (NIV) 

Hiking, with son Aidan, and on the bus tour. Through the years, over time, filled with all kinds of adventures, this is my oldest son: Donovan Colt Torp. And today is his birthday! Love you beyond words. May this birthday be blessed by the Lord in ways you never expected. 

Father, you blessed me with a son in spite of me, and I thank you so much for him and his love in spite of me. Please bless him as only you can do. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Although we can vary greatly in our approaches to creating novels, our genres of choice, who we enjoy reading, and how we define good writing, we authors do have some things in common.

Respect for our work, loyalty to our work resulting from "getting" how and what we write, touching readers' emotions in some manner by our stories, and, of course, earning paychecks from the novels we've authored – these factors are "what authors want".

And there's nothing particularly unusual or unreasonable about any of them.  

But there's one more factor that can't be ignored. Nothing on that list is easily attained. Yes, some authors have experienced a quick and lasting success. Others struggle to sell their work even when those who've read their books rave about them. No one knows what awaits their efforts in the publishing realm. Indie authors foot the bills for production of their work. If, as author Kerry Neitz mentioned in the comments on Wednesday's post, an author can make enough to cover the costs and then some, that is the desire.

Since I've restrained myself from the continuation of the bombardment for my new novel this week, I will tell you in all honesty what I want. I would very much like you to read this new one. If you order it here, you will save money on this longer novel plus you can order it for your e-reader here also, and if you do either, you will be contributing to a larger portion of profit for me. There, I said it. Thank you for considering it. 

Father, you've always helped me in all kinds of situations even before I knew your Son. I can never thank you enough, but I will continue to be grateful beyond my capability to express. Thank you for this latest story that has meant so much to me. May it touch those you've set apart to read it. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

I've never seen this cover for this novel. And these colors and the "subtext questions" are unique for Vince Flynn covers. 

There was a great line by Rapp in this book where the title is used to convey an ominous message to someone. So there's the "throwback" part of this post. Now for some fun – for me at least. 

Prepare yourself for a little fan fiction here regarding the characterization of who I picture should be Mitch Rapp's love. 

Her name is Christine Ravenswill, but it's not her real name. She's a psychiatrist who specializes in counseling veterans and operatives in elite warrior positions whether government sanctioned or not. Christine is tall, close to 5'10" with a deep blue to her eye color that sets off her long wavy natural honey blonde hair that she wears parted in the middle with bangs. With elegant, efficient movements, Rapp wonders if she's athletic when she strides toward him to shake his hand. He deduces she's close to his age, her handshake takes a firm grip of his larger hand. 

When she introduces herself, he smirks. "I assume that's not your real name." 

She knows he doesn't want to be there in her office, nor does he want to talk to or confide in her. She recognizes he probably realizes he should be willing to do so, but that doesn't carry any weight as to him determining he will. She decides to go on the offensive.

"Mr. Rapp, I'm smart enough to know you don't want to be here. I get that. You're right about my name. Although Christine is my actual middle name, I chose Ravenswill for my last name when I came to terms with my dad's occupation. He too was a warrior with a similar job description and assignments as you've experienced. The last time I saw him was on my 21st birthday, but occasionally I discreetly visit his star. You would no doubt be familiar with his name if I was allowed to reveal it to you, so I apologize for not being able to share it." 

She sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk that faced the one he stood stoically behind, picking up the pen and pad on it and setting them on her lap. "If you prefer to stand, I understand. I'm not here to play games with you. I respect you and what you've done for our country far too much to attempt any kind of coercion to speak with me. I of course hope that you would acquire a trust – or perhaps that's too strong a word." She briefly faltered but regrouped. "Let me put it this way: I have no way of knowing if I can offer you anything you can use or might need until I listen to what you have to say about anything that you care to offer in conversation. I've cleared my schedule for the rest of the day in order not to adhere to any annoying time requirements." She briefly looked down at the pad on her lap. Then looking directly up at the focused stare looking back at her, she said, "This is the absolute truth. I've admired you for a long time, and it's an honor to finally meet you face to face."

She noticed the brief surprise in those dark eyes, the quick parting of the lips before once again sealing shut.

"I'm very familiar with the standardized version of life in your profession. As for my life, I'm a fair marksman, know Krav Maga and Brazilian Jui-jitsu. I'm armed with my trusty Glock 19, and haven't had to kill anyone yet. I've been attacked once on the way to this office when I decided to jog to work. Fortunately, I subdued my attacker so here I am. Here you are. If there's anything you want to ask me, please do." 

Rapp moved around the chair and sat in it folding his arms against his strong chest. "How much did Irene tell you?" 

"Irene told me she would suggest you come to me, 'try me on for size', just for the purpose of releasing some of the pain you carry around with you because she believes it's intense. She said it in no way has affected your work, but that . . ." She stopped and studied his expression before continuing. "But that it hurt her to know you kept a lot of that pain as a constant companion in your everyday life and that just maybe you might be willing to discuss it with me – but not to count on it." She pushed herself farther back in the chair and crossed her right leg over her left.

So there she is. There's more. For later . . . 

Father, you're always providing inspiration when I least expect it. I love it. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.