Into the Fire

Passionate thoughts about the world of writing and the Power of God

  • This is the debate. While it sounds like a typical political argument, in this case it’s not. We’re talking economy versus extravagance in regard to the use of words in stories.

    Since I’ve been visiting various blogs written by writers, editors, agents, and the occasional publishers, the consistent message has been “Less is more”, encouraging the use of economy in words. To some writers 100,000 words sounds like a huge sum, verbose even, but to others of us, it sounds like too few, not near enough in fact.

    I find it bizarre that fantasy or speculative fiction along with the occasional historical novel and some thrillers turn out these large—or long if you prefer—novels and get away with it. Epic tales or sagas appear to be common when it involves establishing the identity of otherworldly beings, locations, and action-packed adventures. In historicals the scope of a story can pass through generations of families or allude to the past while giving painstaking detail of whatever the present time claims to be.

    No doubt we see more sagas from the general market than we do from the Christian publishing industry. Not sure why that is exactly.

    However, you’ll get no argument from me that a skilled writer can elicit complicated depth from an economy of words. But who’s to say that same economical writer couldn’t do just as much with more words added to his stories since he’s so good at illustrating with them. No matter. Any author should write his story the way he sees fit, and if he’s good with it after the editor’s suggestions and corrections, more power to him as he waits for the pages to become bound in book form.

    Extravagance in writing can be done equally well. Stories don’t have to be lean to be good. The writing doesn’t have to be stark to be considered well done. It always comes back to the subjectivity thing. Some publishers look for short novels, others not so much. You will no doubt write what you favor.

    I’m a stickler for details. Expressions, descriptions, the use of the senses—I love it all. Inner dialogue, different points of view, stylistic efforts, unique voices. Bring it on. Formulaic is the bane of writing for me.

    You’ll know who you are as a writer by what you enjoy. If Hemingway rocks your world, then you’ll probably write with next to no adjectives and lean to the point of starvation. (Can you tell I’m not a fan of Hemingway’s writing?)

    Perhaps most readers fall somewhere in the middle with their preferences. Let’s face it, there’s nothing worse than plowing through a poorly written saga. At least if the story chooses an economical word count and it stinks—well, at least it takes less time to either finish the darn thing or abandon it.

    As a writer, you might aim to write economically and wind up being extravagant. Maybe it depends on how a story develops. Or if you’re an outline-r, perhaps as you’re setting up the story, it becomes more complex than you initially figured. Perhaps the opposite is true: you planned extravagance and wound up with economy. Whatever your desire, either way is meaningful. Different readers appreciate different styles. One size fits all rarely works.

    Father, you design with both economy and extravagance. You make it all work. Thank you for the beautiful differences. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

  • Christa Parrish is the featured author for the CFBA Tour with her second novel Watch Over Me. Creating two unique characters in an unlikely marriage, we watch the destructive ways of two wounded believers struggling to keep a faltering relationship alive in the small town atmosphere of Beck County, South Dakota.

    Abbi and Benjamin at their best conduct a playful and spirited relationship, but at their worst don’t speak, touch, or spend time together. At various stages of disarray in their Christianity, neither of them knows how to deal with the personal trauma from Ben’s experience in Afghanistan where he lost his best friend Steven in combat or Abbi’s inability to have children combined with her scrutiny of the food she eats then purges with laxatives.

    Abbi, the vegan greenie pacifist, fell for Ben, the National Guardsman, son of east Indian immigrant parents, in college when her best friend Lauren introduced Abbi to her guy Steven’s best friend Ben. When Steven was killed in action, Lauren bid Abbi and Ben farewell because she couldn’t take the loss of her husband and be in their company. All the while, Ben can’t communicate anything about his time in Afghanistan and blames himself for Steven’s death.

    Now a deputy, Benjamin is called to a vacant field where the discovery of an abandoned baby girl is discovered by two teens headed for a romantic encounter. Ben falls instantly for the tiny girl and secures the infant for his and Abbi’s foster care. Abbi guards her heart unsuccessfully against an attachment to the child fearing the baby’s eventual removal from their lives as the search continues for the mother and father.

    A brilliant 16 year old deaf boy named Matthew, who lives with his dysfunctional aunt after surviving an ugly life with his even more dysfunctional mother, nurtures and befriends his four female cousins while attempting to keep some order in the chaotic household. Matthew has a rare kidney disease which forces him to dialysis three times a week, knowing he needs a kidney transplant.

    Matthew’s life intersects Abbi’s and Ben’s when he looks for ways to earn money for a trip to find his father in New York. When Abbi puts him to work doing chores and babysitting, their lives become entwined in unforeseen ways.

    Christa Parrish paints a sorrow-filled tapestry of emptiness in the lives of her characters with the brush stroke of a tangible ache. Hopelessness, fear, loneliness, angst, intense anger toward God—all present in all their pain and vivid imagery. With just enough light filtered into the story to keep it from becoming totally depressing, this is a meaningful tale about self-inflicted torture foisted upon oneself if we choose to resist, blame, or remain distant from our loving Lord. Searching for the constancy of someone to “watch over me” will always end in the only One who can truly provide that kind of care.

    This story is real, sometimes raw, excruciatingly touching at times, and well done. No surprise when you view Christa’s credentials but it’s always a pleasure to read a different voice telling a unique tale.

    http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0764205544

    Father, you’ve brought Christa to this place of writing stories to honor you. I pray you would continue to go before her and bless all that she does for your glory. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

  • As they began to sing and praise, the Lord set ambushes against the men of Ammon and Moab and Mount Seir who were invading Judah, and they were defeated.

    2 Chronicles 20:22 (NIV)

  • TUESDAY

    Hutch got to the kitchen early, bought a paper and a large cup of coffee. He introduced himself to Karen Brewster and asked her if any of the other shoers came into the kitchen early. She was forthcoming and helpful and offered to send them Hutch’s way when they came in. He took a small table by the window.
    “You’re here early, Dick,” Karen said cheerfully.
    “Yeah, honeymoon’s over I guess,” he laughed. “Got to start getting with it. Only a little over a month before the opener, you know.”
    “It’ll be here before you know it. Quite a few new faces this year. Just met a new shoer from back east a minute ago.” She gestured with her eyes.
    Dick glanced over at the table and saw the tall, sandy haired, moustached man seated at the table looking over the paper.
    “Lots of new grooms, too. And a couple new gallop boys, and one new girl.”
    “Wonder what this year’ll bring, huh?”
    “After last year, who knows?”
    “Yeah, that’s for sure. See ya later, Karen.”
    “Have a great morning, Dick.”
    “Hey, Dick,” Brian Meriwether greeted Dick as he left the kitchen.
    “Brian, how’s it goin’?” Dick shook the calloused meaty hand of the stocky horseshoer.
    “Got all I can handle, and that’s a good place for me.”
    “That makes two of us,” Dick replied, smiling as he started across the gap to his office.
    “Hey, Karen. How’s my pretty lil’ darlin’ this mornin’?” Brian teased as he filled a cup with coffee.
    Karen giggled at his greeting. “Your usual, Brian?”
    “The only thing that would make it better is if you were servin’ it to me in bed.” He winked and started to walk away.
    “Oh, Brian, there’s a new shoer sittin’ over there who’d really like to get acquainted with the local guys. I told him I’d send you over. Is that okay?”
    “Honey, I don’t believe you could ever do anything wrong.” Brian headed over to Hutch’s table and introduced himself.
    “Grady Hutchinson. Call me ‘Hutch’.”
    “So, you steppin’ onto our turf?” Brian smiled a crafty smile over his coffee as he took a sip of the steaming beverage.
    Hutch smiled a little self-consciously. “Yeah, guess I am. Hope to be a gentleman about it, though.”
    “You kiddin’? We don’t even know the meanin’ of the word!” and a robust laugh followed his declaration. “You drink?”
    “Alcohol? Not anymore. Got myself in too many jams when I was drinkin’.”
    “Oh? So you’re the serious type, huh? All work and no play?”
    “Well, Brian, my play turned into too much work if you get my drift.”
    Brian laughed again. “Sad thing is I do get your drift. I had to give it up, too, but not without a fight. I want you to know that.”
    This time Hutch laughed. “Yeah, from the looks of you, I bet you never gave anything up without a fight, and I bet you never lost a one of them either.”
    “Hey, I like you now. Imagine that. A likeable horseshoer.”
    “Just tell me the barns you’re workin’ so I don’t go there, and if you could, I’d like to know where to buy supplies.”
    Karen brought Brian’s ham and eggs personally. “Here you go, Brian.”
    “Ain’t she just the prettiest, sweetest thing? Too bad she’s already married. If I’d a seen ya first, Karen,” he called after her.
    Hutch and Brian conversed as Brian consumed his breakfast splattering catsup and Tabasco sauce on everything.
    “So you got Brady’s barn? Good barn. I had to turn him down. I’ve got more than I can handle as it is. Hated to do it, too. Brady’s a good guy—good pay. He don’t ever get behind. Same with Mick. Watch out for Bob, though. He’s not gonna be happy to see you in the barn. He’ll try to run you off even though he can’t keep up with a 30 horse barn. He’s got a ton of work at home which is east of the mountains for him, and he commutes to do Mick’s. Then when Mick has an emergency, he has to hustle one of us to fix things for him, and then Bob gets all hacked off about it. Thing is he’s a greedy you know what. It’s not about professional pride or anything like that—it’s about the ol’ almighty dollar to him. Anyway, consider yourself warned. If I were you, I’d ask Nelson to schedule you on the days Bob’s gone.”
    “Thanks for the heads up.”
    “Truth is around here there’s plenty of work to go ‘round. It’s just that most of us are the greedy types. We got a few up and comers who like the fancy trucks and big expensive toys. Like to fool around with the broads and make ‘em think they’re rich or somethin’. Things are changin’. Doesn’t seem to be about shoein’ horses anymore. Seems to be about how many can I catch before lunch and then before the races so I can get on over to the front side and hustle me a broad for the night. Thing is the up and coming trainers are the same way—don’t know if a horse is shod right or wrong to begin with. Ahh well, such is life, I guess,” Brian concluded as he pushed his plate away.
    “I appreciate you sittin’ down with me, Brian. You married?”
    “Was once.”
    “Yeah, me, too,” Hutch said dejectedly.
    “Sounds like a fresh wound.”
    “Yeah, pretty much. That’s why I came out here.”
    “Hmm. Well, we’ll have to go out and have some dinner one of these nights, I guess. Can’t cry in our beers, but I’m sure we can find somethin’ to cry in,” Brian said standing.
    Hutch stood and shook his hand. “Thanks.”
    “Don’t mention it. See ya around.”

    (For His Glory continued; sequel to Hope Of Glory)

  • I come from a long line of coffee drinkers, but I could never develop a taste for it. I drink Coca Cola for my morning drink. Not diet although I should. The good stuff. It’s the real thing.

    One of my most favorite foods was my dad’s spaghetti which he made almost every Sunday while I was growing up. I miss it and him so much. I can make it, but it never tastes quite the same. You haven’t tasted good spahetti until you’ve eaten his real Italian spaghetti. Northern Italian. It’s the best.

    I really have written stories since I was a child. Then I went to poems. And back to stories.

    It’s amazing to remember that I’ve been to Ireland, England, Wales, Scotland, France, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, The Netherlands, Denmark, Belgium, Norway, and Sweden. Many years ago.

    One of the first cars I remember in our family was a ’57 white Ford Fairlane with red trim and a Continental Kit on the back. There were only a handful of them in our area at the time. It was a beautiful car.

    Father, you have blessed me beyond belief. Thank you never says enough, but I am so thankful for it all. Please keep me in your care always. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

  • It’s one thing to gossip, another to lie, another to imagine, to slander, and yet another to steal–all of it known as Sin with a capital S. Isn’t it amazing that lies can be accepted as truth and damage people or their intentions and persuade others to push these lies hard and strong to create a false reality. I don’t really care how you feel about Rush Limbaugh, but if you’ve bought into the lie that he’s a racist, you’ve been had. And if you truly knew the facts, the truth, you’d know he is not a racist.

    So the big news in publishing is Thomas Nelson embarking upon a so-called self-publishing venture which, according to MacGregor Literary agent Sandra Bishop is being sold as a means for rejected—but talented—authors to find a way into royalty publishing. Apparently she disagrees with the professed motive. Check out the reactions at Thomas Nelson’s Michael Hyatt’s blog, Chip MacGregor’s blog, and Rachelle Gardner’s blog to name a few.

    Waterbrook editor Mick Silva hinted at the evolution of self-publishing and POD efforts making an eventual impact on publishers at the NCWR in May of this year, citing the phenomenal impact of the initially self-published The Shack.

    If you truly are interested in self-publishing or POD publishing, you will want to check out WinePress Publishing Group; Pleasant Word is their POD division. No company could possibly be easier to work with while producing a first rate product.

    God, you are holy and just. One day every knee will bow, every tongue confess that you are who you claimed to be. Until then, Lord, please bring justice to our midst and protect your people even as you place them in the dens of lions. Thank you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

  • Oh so many. We’ve covered the escapism, entertainment, and evangelism topics. But what about reading fiction? Why is it that some people think it’s a waste of their time to indulge in a novel? I admit I’ve never understood that.

    The old but accurate expression of “Truth is stranger than fiction” tells a tale in itself. Another frequently expressed notion: “You couldn’t write this stuff—no one would believe it” makes clear that certain elements of fiction must come across as “truthful” and/or “believable”. Even in fantasy or sci-fi or speculative fiction, the aspects of the story which allow the reader to indulge in the experience must somehow resonate from a place of basic truth to be acceptable or in an odd way “plausible”.

    Fiction composes experiences in all kinds of circumstances. Good fiction engages the emotions and the senses, eliciting responses whether strong or mild, and escorts the reader into areas of laughter, sorrow, requirements of change, personal growth, anger, disdain, or intense reactions to character(s), plot, or situations. The readers either identify with the story or wish they could. Nostalgia, regret, memories tagged—all these things can come from stories.

    Investing in a novel can speak to the heart or remind us of how it might have been if . . . and only the reader can decide if that’s a good or bad thing.

    The primary reason to read fiction is that when it’s good, it’s a mirror of life. Representative of those things which make life real, hard, worthwhile, or wasted. Stories present motivation or declare depravity. They show life as it is, as it can be, how it should be, what it’s meant to be, or what it should never be. A vital purpose or a joyful endeavor, a deep dive or a light swim, some fiction enriches our lives.

    For me, fiction represents a picture of life itself, captured in word pictures, told in styles and voices of real people. Strangers become soul-mates through those written words.

    Fiction’s a journey that should be taken.

    Father, be present in our writing, be the inspiration for it, and be the glory in it. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

  • Once again another writer-blogger inspired this post. Becky Miller, aka Rebecca Luella Miller, over at A Christian Worldview of Fiction contemplates escapism, happy endings, and the overall diet of Christian readers. I’ve decided to tackle “endings” in general today.

    So to begin . . .

    Happy endings: I don’t think “happy” needs too much definition here. Characters solve problems. Hope is evident. The last page produces a smile.

    Sad endings: The simple descriptive “sad” means different things to different people, but a sad ending usually indicates something which drives the emotional response to tears or attempts to bring the reader to feel bad about the way things turned out either in the sense of sorrow or injustice perhaps.

    Bad endings: Bad endings just don’t work. They either end abruptly, unexpectedly, or finish in a flurry of unacceptable events. With a bad ending the story is essentially ruined. It’s a decisive disappointment how the book concludes. And, yes, it can be disputed among readers, but chances are most readers will identify it as “bad”.

    Twist(ed) endings: These are the conclusions which surprise the reader, and this can be in a “You got me!” kind of reaction or a “What?!” kind of moment possibly followed by the novel sailing into the wall across the room. Twists or twisted endings can be good or bad and can produce pleasant or unforeseen responses. I would think an ending with a twist would shoot for the more satisfied reaction of positive surprise as the reader reflects upon the story to seek out or remember the veiled clues. If the negative response is elicited from a reader, chances are the twist method worked ineffectively or failed completely.

    Cliffhanger endings: Well, we can all argue about the effectiveness of this choice for endings, usually employed in series novels. To each his own on this method, but I prefer a subtle cliffhanger to a more pronounced unresolved end. It’s a ploy used by television series at season’s end, and it’s often executed in novels with sequels or series possibilities.

    Satisfying endings: “Satisfying” can be an arbitrary term. What meets my qualification for a satisfying ending to a story might be in opposition to yours. When I make an assessment of a satisfying ending, I expect it to be realistic, honorable, complete the story, logical, thoughtful, or meaningful. Not always happy, not always sad. Not even always “resolved”. No gimmicks used. To put it simply (and even more whimsically): it just seems right. It works for the story and can be a combination of descriptions.

    I think endings need to be as or more effective than the beginning of a story. The ending must offer a valid conclusion to the particular story being told. Realizing that series novels tend to use the cliffhanger choice, I think some authors abuse the method. Leaving a mystery lingering is far more meaningful than choosing to take a reader to the brink of solution and then ending the story.

    The “perfect” ending comes when the telling of the story has been justified by its conclusion. Effective endings require a true sense of storytelling. Gimmicks or clever manipulation of a reader don’t necessarily sit well with all readers—at least not with this one. Sometimes these methods seem like a marketing ploy to force the reader into buying future books, and I’ve quit on a couple of series by well known authors because each novel became a setup for the next one when two books should’ve easily been one and so on. I don’t like to be milked for my money.

    Your thoughts on endings?

    Father, you know the ending from the beginning. We can count on you for the perfect one. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

  • A world gone mad with defiant gestures against a God they don’t want to see. Refuse to address. Decide to ignore. Choose not to believe. A world in the clutches of demons.

    Sliding into the pews without notice, welcomed by the greeter at the door, a bulletin pushed into the eager hand which makes contact, a handshake barely felt. Simmering gazes surveying the members standing to sing. Marking those with unseen checks who will slip into sin with little resistance. A subtle smile as a woman sends a willing blink, admiring the confidence exuding from the stranger.

    Do you recognize the demeanor? Do you discern the death in their eyes? Will you fall unassuming into the clutches of demons?

    The war rages around us. The ever-present saturation of sinful rearrangements of God’s truthful stipulations. Yes: requirements. Yes: the efforts made to avoid sin. Yes: responsibility for doing the wrong thing(s). Accountable for decisions.

    Will we fight? Will we contrast the ways of the world? Without smug legalism, will we obey? Will we comply with the leading of the Holy Spirit? Or will we go our own way and rationalize the Savior’s crucifixion, thinking only the forgiveness applies to us?

    Many stand by and justify the recurrence of lies, folding principles into torn pieces of paper blowing in the winds of confused doctrines. Meaningless matters. Judgment is eradicated to enable sin.

    Anything to make “it” easier. A trick to lead us into destruction.

    Into the clutches of demons . . .

    Father, the war of the flesh rages, carnal desires fire up like dry tinder, and we don’t fight. That war against the spiritual forces of evil in high places consumes so many of us with little effort. God, in the Name of your Son Jesus Christ, I ask for your strength, your discernment, your power in the Spirit to live fully for you. To resist the enemy of my soul. To recognize his evil schemes. To rebuke the demons who confront me and those I love. To stand. To stand for Jesus. To stand in Jesus. To stand like Jesus. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

  • Then Asa called to the Lord his God and said, “Lord, there is no one like you to help the powerless against the mighty. Help us, O Lord our God, for we rely on you, and in your name we have come against this vast army. O Lord, you are our God; do not let man prevail against you.”

    2 Chronicles 14:11 (NIV)