Into the Fire

Drama has become a multi-descriptive word. In the first place it refers to a type of show business, defining what kind of entertainment to expect on the movie or television screens. In this venue it implies serious matters, emotional content, conflict, possible danger, potential resolution. Now used in the vernacular, "drama" is often used with "queen" or "king" attached implying overblown reactions and personalities, the mode of handling conflicts with extreme emotions, or it can refer to a singular circumstance which logically or illogically has elicited serious involvement by hyper-charged individuals.

An author risks overdoing – thereby ruining – a dramatic scene. It seems this becomes most common when employing a hero and heroine who are fighting an attraction to one another in the romance and/or romantic suspense genres. More pointedly in – although certainly not limited to – Christian romance or romantic suspense stories. And this particular act of "drama" can drive me near the edge because of the way it's done. 

Some authors do the "fighting attraction" splendidly. Others not so much. To do it well, there has to be an understandable reason for attempting to avoid the attraction – at least in the mind of the male and/or female fighting it – and that has to translate well to the readers. Otherwise, it just comes off as childish. 

I'm a drama lover – and probably could've worn the "Drama Queen" title well occasionally as a teenager – but I do not appreciate silliness in novel relationships. Humor, okay, once in awhile. In fact, humor can give an intense situation a nice break. But I'm not a fan of pseudo-drama when real communication and understanding should suffice. 

Father, you know all our leanings, likes, and intentions. We can't hide our emotions or anything else from you. Thank you for those who write characters and scenes so well and capture what we experience in this life both good and bad. Please help those of us who create with words to do what you've given us to do. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.  

Guitar masters at work with a great old classic blues song. 

Father, thank you is never enough for all the gifts you've given. Amazing creativity and talent. May each one know from whom it comes. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Devoted readers know there will be novels they won't like, maybe even some they hate, but they persevere because it's such a great big fun deal to find one they absolutely love! And that, my friends, is the problem we face reading fiction. (I rarely discuss non-fiction here.) 

I just read a novel by an author who shall remain nameless here along with the title of this particular Christian novel from the Romantic Suspense genre. If you read my Friday Five list, you know what sunk – or is it "sank" – this book for me. I will say the plot was viable and that's the reason I bothered to finish it. The writing itself wasn't technically bad, but the melodrama of the two main characters at times seemed utterly ridiculous to me. The twists at the end gave the story an interesting shot and tied the loose ends together.

Another problem we face is "recovering" from reading that novel with which we fell hopelessly in love. When we pick up the next book, it better grab us from the get-go or it might be doomed to the giveaway pile or the deletion mechanism on our e-reader.

If it's poorly written but maybe starts off the story decently, many of us will pull the plug before sticking around to see if the writing rebounds.

One of the quickest exits for me takes place if I don't like the hero or the heroine – and especially if I don't like both of them. Something else better compel me to stay or I'll toss it – which is something I would never do just a few short years ago.  

The trouble with reading is that much of the time we're hoping to get hooked and add another favorite book to our short lists, but that's often a rarity. It's another reason we tend to stick to our preferred authors . . . 

Father, thank you for each one who honors you with any of their gifts. You provide such an amazing variety from your authors. Apart from you, we can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Blessed is the man

   who makes the Lord his trust,

who does not look to the proud,

   to those who turn aside to false gods.

Psalm 40:4 (NIV)

Five things I detest about romance novels:

Thirty-somethings who act like 15 year-olds around each other

Ridiculous conflicts and misunderstandings which should take a minute or two to straighten out but instead lead to broken trusts, broken relationships, broken hearts, and/or high drama in nearly an entire novel.

The lack of effort to communicate real feelings, instead hiding them like no one else on this earth could possibly feel them.  

I understand all the physical manifestations of attraction, be it sexual, intellectual, or just plain admiration. What is completely annoying is not acknowledging they are in fact present.

Cliched descriptions of mutual attraction and awkward moments. 

I get how complicated writing good romance can be. To make them effective there's a lot of emotional attraction, conflict, usually some painful experiences, and ultimately satisfactory resolution, but it's the path through the struggles which must prove meaningful. And sometimes the way the journey is presented fails the story. 

Father, you're the real author of romance, the Creator of all things beautiful in the human spirit, and forgiver of those things we do in the flesh which require repentance. We're all desperate for you whether we know it or not. Thank you for rescuing me. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

                                (From Breath of Life, chapter 4)

     Shay looked exhausted when she walked, coat over arm, into the office. Mildred understood nothing was more taxing for Shay than any kind of public display of her work.
     “It wasn’t too bad,” she admitted, conceding by her tone that she always made too big a deal about these events. “I did alright.”
     “I’m sure you did, dear. You always underestimate yourself. You’re absolutely charming, Shay,” she said, her feelings heartfelt.
     A slight smile escaped. “Mildred, you are just so good for me. I wish I could tell you how much I appreciate you.”
     “The feeling’s mutual, dear.”
     She went into her office and plopped down into the soft supporting leather of her chair. She just sat, facing the windows. It had warmed up around 1 PM right about when she sneaked out after the luncheon to the alley and had a few drags from a cigarette. Her thoughts had drifted to Lonnie as they always did when she took her first inhaled breath of smoke. He was so brave. She’d remarked to him how amazing she thought it was that he was unafraid of anything.
     “Shay, I have fear, but I’ve been trained to control it to keep me from making a critical mistake. The more you understand your fears, the more difficult it becomes for them to master you. And since my Savior tells me to ‘fear not’, then I figure He’s got things to the place where it’s pretty pointless for me to be second guessing Him.” She remembered his serious expression breaking into a smile. “What do you think?” And next he’d taken her face in his powerful hands, a few scars apparent, caressed her flaming cheeks with his thumbs and planted a delicious kiss on her waiting lips. A kiss that pleaded to go farther than either of them could even imagine, and just when it seemed like it would, he held back and slowly removed his lips, then his hands. “I want you to know I love you, Shay.”
     The tears came in a rush she hadn’t anticipated. “I love you, too, Lonnie,” she whispered to the windows. Quickly turning away she wiped her eyes and nose with Kleenex from the box on her desk and bent down to unlace her boots. She would work for awhile—there were words battering her brain to get them out on the screen. She better do it.
     After an hour of absorbing herself in her writing, she stood, stretched, and looked down at the Tully’s entrance. There he was—the friendly man in the attractive suit who’d stopped to greet her this morning. Very good looking man, she observed. He had special eyes, blue like a summer sky, but in spite of his sureness, his eyes seemed to betray that confidence—a hesitancy, she guessed, in them. He had put her at ease, though, with his smiled greeting, and that wasn’t an easy thing to do—especially by a stranger. She decided she liked him and thought maybe she might see him more regularly if he often frequented Tully’s. That would be alright.

     It was crazy to be like this. I couldn’t equate it to anything really—in fact, the anticipation of that dance with Linda Sutterman captured the feeling as well as anything, I think. Probably because then I was still excited by something as innocuous as one slow dance with a pretty girl, hoping it might eventually lead to a kiss, and, well, yes, even then, I hoped for more. My innocence was short-lived.

     Fifteen came and went with my escapades into the sexual life of a teenage boy who really knew nothing more than being titillated and quickly satisfied by any good looking girl who was willing to let me push her a little farther and a little more until I got satisfaction. Since I thought the experience was fantastic, surely the girls did, too. I mean back then I thought they resisted because they thought it was proper to do so, not because they really had any desire to hold onto a gift they could never have back. Yeah, I was a real prize. Just for the record, all I got from Linda Sutterman were a few slow dances over the football season and two great kisses. Oh, and one slap across the face when I tried to stretch that second kiss into something more. Linda Sutterman had class. And convictions.
    

     And I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this lady who leaned against the wall across the street from the building where I worked had both, too.

Again and again, Lord, apart from you, I can do nothing. Thank you for it all. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Isn't that a welcoming country road or driveway? Such a lovely springtime picture. 

Father, your creativity and beauty is here to see, every season has its own look. Thank you for it all. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

This is an amazing rendition of Phil Collins' and Genesis' huge hit "In The Air Tonight". For those who loved their sound, this production of the song is something special – especially live. 

Father, you're the giver of all good and perfect gifts. Continue to reach out to those who use them yet are unaware of you. Thank you for them all. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Life's journeys present all kinds of surprises. Not all of them are good. For some, the consequences of their actions produce life-altering circumstances with little hope for a positive outcome. Justice can come with a high price tag.

Our pastor has a full time job besides ministering in the church. He and the specific location of his job shall remain nameless for his and others' protection. Suffice it to say a juvenile prison presents some potentially hopeless inmates who can sometimes be a danger to others and themselves. 

Surprisingly – or not – many of these juveniles devour books. So why not supply those hungry readers with some Christian fiction?

A short time ago we heard a story of one young man who will likely never experience life beyond the bars of a jail. There were no role models in his life unless you count the vicious kind. He knew his fate was sealed. What he didn't realize or understand was that God also had a plan for his life, and the Holy Spirit intended to make an impact with Jesus. For a particular reason and the Holy Spirit's prompting, I felt compelled to buy him a copy of The Masterpiece (Francine Rivers). The pastor thinks he'll be finished with it by the end of the week, totally involved in the novel. 

I had previously sent along a case of my first novel (Hope of Glory) for any who wanted to tackle that saga of over 700 pages. It's a preachy comprehensive story of horse racing at a middle echelon racetrack with all kinds of characters, most entrenched in sin, and a large dose of the Gospel.

After reading Race, our pastor offered it to one reader who initially refused because "the bad guy never wins". Swallowing a laugh, the pastor told him to try it anyway because it was written by a friend of his. When this reader finished the novel, he told the pastor he liked it but with specific instructions for him not to tell anyone that he did.

God never stops reaching out to His creation. Jesus loves us all and is able to forgive the worst of us. We're all desperate for the Lord. Some will take their refusal to engage Him to the grave and suffer the consequences of their decisions. Others will learn that in spite of the horrible things they've done, they can experience real repentance and truly be forgiven. It's a miracle for sure – one none of us deserve.

If any of you are moved to pray for our pastor and those who've made some sad and ugly decisions in their young lives, please do. And if you're an author, perhaps you can find an appropriate location to share your novels with those who have become "the least" of us.

Father, you bless me beyond words. I'm more thankful than I will ever be able to express for things way too numerous to name or recall – and for those things I don't yet know about. Thank you is never enough. Please watch over those young imprisoned men. Reach them, Lord. They're desperate for you. Just like me. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

"I, even I, am he who blots out

     your transgressions, for my own sake,

     and remembers your sins no more . . ."

Isaiah 43:25 (NIV)