Into the Fire

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

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    One of the greatest voices of all time. Another love song for this Tuesday. And I loved this film: The Bodyguard.

     

    Lord, you know all things. Thank you for the amazing gifts/talents you give. Let those who have and use them know from whom they come. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

     

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    As the current trendy expression says, “It’s been a minute” since the second book in the Mark Dawson series (An Atticus Priest Mystery) A Place to Bury Strangers debuted, and since many, many novels have been read since that one, I found my memory to be a little rusty in recalling previously dead characters. I remember the discoveries that led to The Red Room, the ominous conclusion to that second book in the series. Mark Dawson is a creative and prolific author, marketer, and promoter of his work so it’s not surprising when some books take a little more time than others to get to his waiting readers.

    I’ve been somewhat patiently waiting for The Red Room, both knowing and dreading the subject matter. Before I get into the actual review, I want to commend Mark Dawson and other authors who’ve tackled this abhorrent topic in their novels. More and more people are becoming aware of the children/young people/adults being sex-trafficked, bought and sold for perverse pleasures until they’ve served their purpose and are disposed of like so much garbage. After Epstein’s Island was exposed, the list and tapes of clients and encounters still concealed for purely political reasons, The Red Room stands as a poignant example of this centuries-old practice celebrated by those who worship the devil. Although that facet of this particular practice is not addressed in this story, it’s at the heart of this evil.

    Atticus Priest, a former police detective, is one of the most uniquely attractive characters in Mark Dawson’s extensive repertoire and may be my favorite. His gift for perception of people’s most disguised personality and character traits along with his genius-level intellect, makes him an incredible private investigator and police consultant when his girlfriend DCI Mackenzie Jones (“Mack”) can interject him into a murder investigation. He pursues puzzles like a pugnacious pugilist. Unrelenting even when Mack tells him he must back off due to higher-ups in the chain of command’s disdain for Atticus. He never fails to out-perform them and solves their mysteries.

    This story explodes when a favorite local man takes a deadly dive off the top access to the Salisbury Cathedral where he’s worked for many years. In the process of making a film from that horrific height, the gruesome splat of his body is discovered on the pavement below. Accompanying his shocking death, a video tape arrives at a local newspaper that shows this well-respected man compromised with a minor boy years before.

    There are more deaths and more tapes which lead Atticus to suspect an online acquaintance “Jack” with whom he plays chess. Jack seems to know far more about Atticus than he should, and when Jack makes implications about these murders, Atticus is determined to discover who he is and what Jack’s motive is.

    As with all of Mark’s work, the mystery is complex, disturbing, and full of distractions. The final twist which is shared only between Jack and Atticus reveals a great deal about things the reader hadn’t considered until now.

    Well written, sad and disturbing, Mark presents a plain picture of how this sordid, demonic “business” operates. Again, I commend Mark for tackling this poignant subject. The more people who realize its perverse reality, hopefully the more can be done to effectively curtail the horror for those victims of it.

    I gave the book 5 stars because of the way Mark dealt with this subject matter: carefully but boldly proclaiming the utter demonic practice of enslaving children/young people/adults to those who wish to pursue their perverse lusts and have the money to indulge them.

     

    Father, you know Mark's heart, his every need, his talents and gifts that you've given him. I pray you would continue to bless his life and lead him in your ways. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

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    Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?"  John 11:25-26 (NIV) 

     

  • The mystery of the seven stars that you saw in my right hand and of the seven golden lampstands is this: The seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands are the seven churches.

    To the Church in Sardis

    “To the angel of the church in Sardis write:

         These are the words of him who holds the seven spirits of God and the seven stars. I know your deeds; you have a reputation of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your deeds complete in the sight of my God. Remember, therefore, what you have received and heard; obey it, and repent. But if you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know what time I will come to you.

         Yet you have a few people in Sardis who have not soiled their clothes. They will walk with me, dressed in white, for they are worthy. He who overcomes will, like them, be dressed in white. I will never erase his name from the book of life, but will acknowledge his name before my Father and his angels. He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.

     

    Revelation 1:20 and Revelation 1-6 (NIV)

  • The mystery of the seven stars that you saw in my right hand and of the seven golden lampstands is this: The seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands are the seven churches. 

    To the Church in Thyatira

    "To the angel of the church in Thyatira write:

         These are the words of the Son of God, whose eyes are like blazing fire and whose feet are like burnished bronze. I know your deeds, your love and faith, your service and perseverance, and that you are now doing more than you did at first.

         Nevertheless, I have this against you. You tolerate that woman Jezebel, who calls herself a prophetess. By her teaching, she misleads my servants into sexual immorality and the eating of food sacrificed to idols. I have given her time to repent of her immorality, but she is unwilling. So I will cast her on a bed of suffering, and I will make those who commit adultery with her suffer intensely, unless they repent of her ways. I will strike her children dead. Then all the churches will know that I am He who searches hearts and minds, and I will repay each of you according to your deeds. Now I say to the rest of you in Thyatira, to you who do not hold to her teaching and have not learned Satan's so-called deep secrets (I will not impose any other burden on you): Only hold on to what you have until I come.

         To him who overcomes and does my will to the end, I will give authority over the nations —

                   'He will rule them with an iron scepter,

                            he will dash them to pieces like pottery —

    just as I have received authority from my Father. I will also give him the morning star. He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. 

     

    Revelation 1:20 and Revelation 2:18-29 (NIV)

         

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               This is from my WIP told in first person male voice.

    Chapter 7

    I’m not a great guy. I’ve been a player of sorts and tried to make it apparent to the women with whom I’d played that my intentions were not for the long term. But, like most of the women I’ve encountered along my disreputable journey, each one, who’d survived beyond that first or second liaison, believed they could change that claim and make me their own. I’d like to think it was because I showed them respect in my advances and was at least partly honest with them in my explanations being sure to assure them it was me, not them. I doubt that worked since most of our departures were, shall I say, unpleasant.

         As I re-showered and changed into my writing clothes, old sweats and socks – without holes this time – and a decent long-sleeved t-shirt, I pondered why my past occupied my current thoughts. Probably because I confessed a piece of the past to my “new-hire”. I seemed to enjoy lying to myself when it came down to analyzing my behavior, but deep down in that place some people call the soul, I knew it was because I was intangibly drawn to my new employee. “Intangibly” because I barely knew her. No surprise she met my physical requirements for a very attractive woman, but I wasn’t so consumed with lust that I failed to notice her character. You can’t fake character. I’ve seen enough in my business attempt it, but what they’d compromise for the love of that almighty dollar always exposed who they really were.

         While I contemplated all of this, I realized I stood motionless in the middle of my bedroom staring toward my large bay windows but seeing nothing. I cussed at myself and headed to my office, determining to shut down this meandering mindset and focus on the manuscript that had me frustrated seven chapters into it with not a clue where to go next. Being one of those seat-of-the-pants authors, I couldn’t force a story to take shape. It didn’t work that way for me, nor would I ever be inclined to change it up now. However, it did produce lulls and stoppages that sometimes gave me fits of frustration and quite often led to bad behavior – almost as if I thought cutting loose would somehow give me fresh inspiration. Inevitably, I’m ashamed to admit, my conduct would lead to even lengthier delays and add substantial folders to my regret files which, unhappily, had multiplied in volume in recent years.

         Or, perhaps, to be completely honest with myself, it had been ongoing since that love I once felt vacated my life a long time ago.

     

    Father, you know me. Apart from you, I can do nothing. I treasure the stories you've given me, the words and characters, even the process hard as it might be at times. Please continue to give me what I need to write another novel to honor you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

     

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    One of the best covers I've ever seen, and A Man Called Outlaw is a very good western by K.M. Weiland. I loved this cover so much, I bought a poster of it from K.M. and it hangs in the entryway to our home. 

     

    Father, please continue to bless K.M. in all she does. Give her what she needs to do those things that you direct. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

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    The plight of authors is foreign to those who don't write. For readers who don't notice the mechanics of novels and just want to enjoy the story, it simplifies that enjoyment and/or the disappointment – whatever the case may be. The multitude of readers with different tastes in novels explains the necessity for multiple genres, styles, and lengths of novels. 

    However, arriving at those stories is often a scintillating journey for the author or a feeling of crash and burn with significant injuries in the process. Some stories are definitely harder to write than others. When I attempted my one and only mystery Race, it felt like the latter for me. When I wrote Then . . . you, it felt like the former. Two very different processes. At the end of both, the results were rewarding and satisfying in different ways. 

    I'm working on a new one now. Being a seat-of-the pants author, I rarely know where the story is going in the beginning – other than I know it will develop into a love story. But, like the reader, I meet my characters as I go even when I have a "feeling" for who they're going to be or some things they might be going to do. They can be very good at surprising me, often veering significantly off course from where I thought they were headed. In that regard it can be exciting to "see" their experiences.

    A problem I'm facing early on in this current WIP is a rather climactic moment for the protagonist, and I'm thinking this is happening way too soon. How am I going to get around this problem? There are some very vague ruminations going on in my mental images, but I don't know if they're "for real". Yet. So, I notice as things similar to this happen in my stories, I hide from them. Yes, I figure out how to waste time or even be productive in other areas. Away from my story. Pretending I have these other things to do. Reassuring myself that it's just a break. Take it. Chill. Relax. You'll figure it out. 

    That's exactly where my Wednesday Wanderings are taking me today . . .

     

    Father, thank you for every word, every inspiration, every time you help me bring a story to completion. Apart from you, I can do nothing. Nothing. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

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    This is a beautiful song sung by so many artists (Barbra Streisand, Katharine MacPhee, Carrie Underwood). I picked one I'd never heard of, but they all do it justice. 

     

    Father, you are the giver of good and perfect gifts. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

     

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    Above is a photograph of a small bookstore in London. It's not exactly what I'm picturing, but it'll do for the purpose of this post. I would really enjoy owning a bookstore. However, unlike many bookstores, particularly those that specialize in Christian literature of all kinds, my policies would be considerably different. 

    To start with, there would be no returns on books, especially because the purchaser "didn't like it". Perhaps you've seen those signs in stores where fragile items were on display: "You break it, you buy it". Well, in my bookstore: You buy it, you own it. It would be posted, visible, and the cashiers would remind customers of the fact that there are no returns, all sales are final. 

    My store would primarily be an outlet for Christian Fiction, but I would have one section for general market thrillers/mysteries/suspense which would also specify and give fair warning that there would no doubt be profanity between the covers of those novels, again emphasizing no returns. 

    Thirdly, there would be little if any paraphernalia besides books. No jewelry, no nick-nacks, maybe a few empty crosses – hopefully crafted by a local talent, and no large paintings. 

    There would be a few versions of Bibles and study Bibles but not all "translations". Very few if any "self-help" books and no Bible Study books.

    I would hope to have warehouse space in order to have the purchasing power to offer lower retail prices. 

    Indie authors would be welcome for book signings/appearances with their novels fitting right in – alphabetically of course – at their genre-designated sections. 

    I might have a coffee/tea/etc. bar. 

    I would probably keep the name as simple as the inventory. Feel free to submit your ideas for names. Right now I'm thinking I'd call it "The Bookstore". 

    Yeah, I'd enjoy that. 

     

    Father, thank you for the wonder of all that you've given us. Thank you for your wonderful authors who give you the recognition for their work. May each one with the talent to write know or learn from whom their abilities come. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.