Important Fiction

Last night, a discussion with a writing partner brought to the surface something my brain has been chewing on for a long time. Writing something important.
I just finished reading Pictures of Hollis Woods, a Newbery Honor Book from 2003, and it felt important from page one. But what makes a book important? Is it simply writing that evokes an emotional response? Or is it a story that creates an accurate picture of some aspect of the human condition? Or is it a work that causes the reader to make a change?
What makes a book important is highly subjective. The same story will touch different readers in different ways. Holes did not feel highly significant to me. An entertaining tale full of poetic justice, yes, but important? Not for me.

Writing a fiction book with a message that matters also seems like a tightrope act. With a well balanced act, the reader would not be able to look away, but would be unaware that they were learning anything. Too heavy on one side and it becomes a lecture that you wish had ended ten minutes ago. Too heavy on the other and it becomes a farce.

Could I write something important? Do I even want to? Hmmmm.

If you could write something important, what would be your message? If that's too personal, tell me about a book you have read that made a difference to you.

Newbery Medal

There are almost 400 books (I think it's something like 381--not that I counted) on the list of medal and honor recipients of the John Newbery Award. The award was initiated in 1922. Some quick calculations tell me that I have only read 54 of them, or a mere smear 14%. Only 22 of those were medal winners. I wonder if it's possible to read them all? And how long would it take?

For our next exercise, pick a Newbery book you haven't read yet and borrow it from the library (or better yet, find one your library doesn't have yet and donate it when you're done), and read it. Pay attention to the first sentence, the first paragraph and the book's special voice. Why do you think it won? What did that book contribute? Holler when you're finished and tell us what you thought.

For discussion, pick a favorite Newbery and share it with us. There is a convenient list on the ALA site, or Here on Wikipedia.
The girls and I all like The Bears on Hemlock Mountain by Alice Dalgliesh, particularly the audio version read by John McDonough. It is a delightful story that charmed its way into our family and stayed with us.

Words to Avoid List

One of the pages of my writing notebook is dedicated to words and phrases that I am not-ever-under-any-circumstances-whatsoever allowed to use in my writing. Some of these avoid-at-all-costs items come from manuals and other instructional writing. Others reach out and slap me when I'm reading for fun. So far, the list isn't very long, but it's growing.

• Got should only be used when you are trying to portray a character's ignorance, and only through dialogue. I've got to stop using it.
• "The fact that is an especially debilitating expression. It should be revised out of every sentence in which it occurs." (Strunk & White, The Elements of Style)
• It was (fill in the blank with an adjective) than he/she/they had ever seen/imagined-you practically trip over phrases like this in descriptive passages of fiction. "The castle was more beautiful than she could have dreamed." "The mountain was taller than anything he had ever seen." Each time I read them it jolts me out of the story and makes me want to holler at the author for being so lazy.

Do you have any words or phrases that you would edit out of a story if you could?

Many Thanks!

Well vacation was...well, it's over anyway. Many, many thanks to all of my guest authors this week. I am in the process of designing a special token of my appreciation for your contributions. Sparkly, limited edition swag to be revealed...soon.

Regular posting will resume on Monday.

Chester the Mouse-Guest post

The following post was provided by MRC (aka FlowerWind), 7 year old author, crafting tornado, and second born daughter. This is the first chapter of her NaNoWriMo novel from last November*. If you are unfamiliar with the Young Writer's Program at NaNo, I highly recommend the workbook you can print out. It is a great tool for teaching young ones about noveling.

Chester the Mouse

Chapter One-The Adventure Begins
Once upon a time there was a mouse. His name was Chester. Chester lived in a hole under a mushroom in the garden. The mushroom was quiet and peaceful.
Chester had three neighbors. The first was a brown rabbit named Pinkie. Pinkie had a white fluffy tail. She lived in a raspberry bush. The second neighbor was Binky the tortoise. Binky lives in a tree stump out near the ditch. Squirrel was the third neighbor. He lives in a hole in a tree. He has a collection of nuts. He collects them before winter.
Chester was lonely in his hole by himself. Every sunny day he would go out for a walk over to Binky’s house. Sometimes, he would go to Pinkie’s house. And sometimes, he would even go to Squirrel’s house. On rainy days, Chester would stay home. In the morning he would suck on candy canes that he had found in an old picnic basket. Later he would take naps and eat breakfast and lunch and go to sleep for the night.
For a week, he spent the night at Squirrel’s house.
In May, He would go to the store and buy some sliced cheese, peanut butter, and party stuff. Squirrel’s birthday was on June 1st.
After Squirrel’s birthday all of the visitors would go home and sleep for the night. Binky would go to his tree stump. Pinkie would go to her raspberry bush. Squirrel would stay at her house. And Chester would go to his mushroom.

*I do hereby declare that I typed this manuscript exactly as it was dictated to me, in spite of an overwhelming urge to spot edit.

Writing Partners-Guest post

The following post was contributed by AM Jenner (aka Romana). She is the one who pesters me about point of view issues and overusing the word "that". And I appreciate every bit of it. She has written and published several books with her partner. You can find them, and much more, at her website. Here is what she has to say about co-authoring.

Working with a partner is very easy for me, because I've always worked with one. There are both advantages and disadvantages in having a partner to write with.
The main advantage is having a sounding board, someone to bounce ideas off, and who can help you when you're stuck. A partner is someone who will help you create a world...and then destroy it if necessary.
The main disadvantage is in having to swallow your pride, both during the editing process and when talking about your successes later. "We wrote that." just doesn't have the same ring, or feeling to it as "I wrote that."; especially if your partner is not standing near enough to physically include in the "we". Sometimes it makes me feel others think I'm being snobby, using the royal "we"...so if you catch me on my own, I'm more likely to use the singular; not because I don't value or recognize my partner's contributions, but because of the way American English is wired.

There is a lot of trust involved in a writing partnership. You have to trust your partner to tell you honestly if an idea is worth pursuing or if it's absolute rubbish. You have to trust your partner with your characters; to help you shape their lives and stories correctly.
Sometimes you have a story so perfectly in your head you can't see where it doesn't hang together. It's very hard not to get mad at your partner while they try to tell you what's wrong with the world you're so proud of creating. It's also hard to contain your frustration and anger when you can see the glaring hole in your partner's plot and you can't find the words to make them understand what you mean.
If you both can stay calm and realize this is not a personal attack; the stories you write together can end up encompassing the best qualities each of you has to give. Each person can bring their strengths and make up for the deficiencies of the other, and the stories conceived and produced by your partnership will be better than anything either of you can produce alone.
The excitement, joy, and pleasure of shared creation...that's how writing is for my partner and me.

A M Jenner

Vanity Plates-Guest post

The following poetry was submitted by Frank (aka Grumpy of "Grumpy Grinch"), fellow letterboxers and rhymers extraordinaire.

Vanity Plates

As I was driving through the States
I took a glance at license plates.
Some were clever; some were dense
Of some I couldn't make much sense.
I think that fellow boxing fans
Should offer us their license plans.
I like AQLBXR
1MORBX, attracts, for sure.
B,X,C,R,Z,Y, need I
Explain to you exactly why,
Turns my mind to boxing thoughts,
Lovely views and hiding spots.
LUV2BOX is what we feel,
IMBOXIN has a great appeal.
But I have found, unfortunately,
That in these matters often we
Are thwarted by the DMV.

Red Wing--Guest post

The following is a post provided by JLC (aka DoodlePaws), 11 year old author, graphic novelist, and first born daughter.

Red Wing, an Eastern Red Bat in the barn, watched what happened every day. The men working on the tractors, the sparrows building mud nests on the ceilings, the clatter of tools; but one thing for sure, he was extremely bored with it. The only stuff he could do was stare, doze, doze and stare. His sister, Gigi, however, was finding all sorts of things to do. She fluttered around the barn, off walls, through piles of hay, weaving in and out of lattice. But of course, Red Wing was bored with that too.
“I get no cure for boredom these days.” He said. “I know that because every day is absolutely the same. Not a single scrap of new life. Curtain rods!” He’d always think.
Gigi always had the same answer to that.
“Yeah, issues. But sadly I can’t find a cure for your feelings. You spice it up yourself.
Sometimes beating boredom is harder than it looks, isn’t it? When it comes to Red Wing’s boredom, people aren’t kidding when they say that.”
“I don’t know how long I can last,” thought Red Wing.
The tractors, sparrows, tools and Gigi went on doing ordinary stuff.
“I think I’m gonna die!” Red Wing yelled.
When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he flew down and screamed at it all:
“Every day’s so boring, it’s outrageous.”
But of course, all the people could hear was squeaking.
“I’m outta here! Aren’t you listening to me?”
Still no answer. Maybe Gigi was right after all. So Red Wing decided that he would have to leave things the way they are. He told Gigi she was right, which made her smile. Even Red Wing smiled. This was going to be a better day than he expected.
“This barn is still great!” He said out loud.

In Defense of Limericks--Guest post

The following post was contributed by Mark Berkeland (aka Wassamatta_U), friend (I certainly wouldn't want him as an enemy), pun master, and all around good egg (Did I just call Wassa an egg?).

I really feel like the Lowly Limerick often gets short shrift, and feel it is my duty to defend this form of poetry as being more than meets (or meters) the eye. And so, without further ado, here is my post:

"The assignment for today is simple. Write a limerick."

I'm afraid I have to disagree with this. Limericks, when done well, are NOT "simple." Allow me to pontificate about one of my favorite forms of writing... the lowly Limerick.

I love limericks. What other form of poetry depends almost solely on the use of a "punch line?" Bad puns or twists are almost a requirement of a good limerick, and those are the sorts of things I really enjoy doing. But to successfully pull off a really top-notch limerick takes a lot of effort, for what one would THINK is a simple poetic form. Heck, the meter is well-defined, there's only 5 little lines, it uses a standard AABBA scheme... what could be so hard?

Aye, but there's the rub.

As any writer of short stories knows, the limited length limits your ability to "build" the story. One must be succinct, and choose very carefully what elements to include so that the story can build without exceeding it's natural size limitations. The same is true, only magnified, with a good limerick. It is DARN HARD to set up a good joke in 5 lines!!! And SHORT lines, to boot! You really have to work at stuffing your thoughts into such a limited space, especially when there is the further restriction of meter and rhyme. You have to choose your words very carefully, and you don't have the luxury of wasting a single syllable.

Which brings us to the NEXT challenge for the limerick writer... the rhyme scheme. Remember how I said the limerick has a punch line? I misspoke. More often, it is a punch WORD. In other words, the REAL kicker rests solely on the very last word of the poem. Everything else is leading up to that ONE WORD. Naturally, there are always exceptions (as with any literary form: see "Kate DiCamillo"... but I digress). But mostly, one doesn't make the joke earlier in the last line. And heaven forbid trying to stick the joke in the AABB part! People would stop reading at that point! No... the final word is where the limerick gets it's true power. But wait.... that's not ALL! As with MOST jokes, the limerick punch depends on the UNEXPECTED. People shouldn't see it coming from a mile away, at least with a REALLY good limerick. Obfuscating the joke would be a lot easier if you could do it somewhere within that last line, but no... we have to do it as the last word. And since we are sticking to AABBA, that last punchline word has to rhyme. And it has to rhyme with not just ONE other line, but TWO other lines (the FIRST two). And since those other two WERE the first two lines, the reader has had time to anticipate "other words" that will rhyme with those. Thus making it VERY difficult to surprise them! It's gotta rhyme (though close-rhymes, or Tom Lehrer-type pseudo rhymes, in my opinion, are not only acceptable but preferred), and it's gotta be unexpected. And it has to fit in the meter. And you have to build to it. Put it all together, and it is an absolute WONDER that anyone can EVER write a really good limerick!

And so, Dear Stacy, I must take issue with your opening line: "The assignment for today is simple. Write a limerick." A truly good limerick, though easy to READ and to UNDERSTAND, can be darn HARD to craft!

End of Sermon.

I figured after my Limerick Rant, I should also include an appropriate
example of said poetry. Just tack it on the end of my rant:

A Limerick's the kind of a poem,
That makes you start scratching your dome.
'Cause it's hard to explain,
Why these rhymes are a pain,
But I think once you see 'em, you'll know 'em.

Local Color

Our home is in a small farming community. There are a couple dozen houses spread out over miles of country road. One of the main roads is Helmar Road and the church on the corner is Helmar Lutheran Church. So, the residents out here say they live in Helmar, even though our addresses are all Newark. There is even a joke that one of the residents is the Mayor of North Helmar; and when there is standing water in the field in Spring, it is Lake Helmar. Someone even put a boat on it once.

All of the little idiosyncrasies that uniquely identify a place is sometimes called local color. It might be particular shops, restaurants, or natural elements. Other, less tangible things like tastes, smells or sounds might play a part. Think about New Orleans and what makes it special. I've never been there, but I think if I woke up in the French Quarter, I would know where I was instantly.

Portraying local color in writing is not as easy as it might seem. Doing it well requires a light hand and avoidance of cliches. It takes more than just describing a landmark, or throwing in an accent and letting the reader fill in the rest. Speech patterns, phrases, and customs work together with other elements to paint a picture. Do the ladies all wear hats to church on Sunday? Does everyone drop their "R"s? Say things like "Oh, Buckets"? Think nothing of taking their dog into the store with them? Wear Wellies? How can you show that and not just tell us?
Three books pop into mind when I think about local color done well.

1. The Country of the Pointed Firs by Sarah Orne Jewett
2. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
3. A Long Way From Chicago by Richard Peck

Do you have any favorite books that depict the flavor and color of a particular place or region?

Think about where you live. What quirks identify your home town as unique? Are there words in your lexicon that you hear nowhere else?

*I'm going to research the local color in Dayton next week. I hope you enjoy the guest posts that I have lined up.

I Pick Ticks

Now that we've started with limericks, it seems I can't stop. Making light of a bad situation, here is one for Lucy Locket. (In reality, our family is still praying for her healing.)

There's a bit of gossip quite juicy,
'Bout a woman from Texas named Lucy.
She got bit by a snake,
When a cache she did take;
And the boo-boo she got's quite a doozy.

I Pick Ticks

When taking a walk in the woods,
The dangers are soon quite apparent.
But Springtime is beckoning loud,
And stay home? Well, really, I daren’t.

From bears that would eat me for lunch,
To the snakes masquerading as sticks.
There’s poison that grows by the bunch,
And don’t forget the blood sucking ticks.

Followed by a scary stranger,
Or sinking in a sand trap that’s quick.
You can’t avoid all the dangers,
But, if I could do, I’d pick the ticks! 

The Spiderwick Chronicles

I was pleasantly surprised when I read the first five books of the Spiderwick Chronicles last week. Stories full of magic and fantastic creatures can easily become too dark to allow my children to read them. However, I have already given the girls leave to read these if they want.

From a teacher/parent viewpoint, The Spiderwick Chronicles represent a very successful approach to the reluctant reader. The first five books are one unified story, but broken down into manageable chunks. Each individual book encapsulates one conflict, which is resolved before the last page turn. However, the larger, unresolved conflict continues to rise from book to book, forcing the reader to continue. A 300 page book might be too intimidating for a struggling or reluctant reader, but these little books can't fail at drawing them in.

From a writing standpoint, one final edit would have cleaned up a couple of pesky bugs I noticed, but other than that, it was great.
For me, a book is really good when I reach the last page and realize that I didn't even notice the writing at all. (Can that be said of Kate DiCamillo's writing? Hmmm.)

Now for the dilemma.
It is always shocking to hear what parents will allow their children to read(or are completely unaware that they are reading). Just because a child is reading on a higher grade level does not mean the content is appropriate for them. But, that is a soapbox for another day. Or not.

My children make me read everything that I write to them. They are my most adoring fans and my severest critics. I tailor my stories accordingly.
That leads to two questions for discussion:

1. If you have children, what guidelines do you use to determine what your children are allowed to read?
2. Does an author have responsibilities to protect their young readership? If so, what are they?

*The photo is a trading card created by "Kreepy Kelli", using a hand carved rubber stamp. Isn't it amazing?

St. Patty's Poetry

The assignment for today is simple. Write a limerick. Any topic is fine.
Some guidelines for limericks:

• 5 lines of poetry with a meter scheme of AABBA
• Many limericks tend to be crass or tawdry for purpose of being funny. I am not asking for a G rating on everything, but I will delete any comments that I feel are inappropriate for a younger audience. If you write a limerick that is too clever not to be shared, but you feel it might be deleted, you can always email it to me first.
• Have fun!

Here are mine:

A woman avoided the laundry,
Leaving family in quite a quandary;
With no clothing to wear,
And too embarrassed to bare
In public their all and sundry.
(From Avoiding the Laundry-Oct 09)

A woman from Newark was writing.
Her characters, they started fighting.
The plot, it did twist.
Well, you get the gist--
Her readers their fingers were biting.

Kate DICamillo

After the discussion yesterday, I realize that I don't have much more to add about Kate DiCamillo. We love her books. We love to read them Out Loud. (I personally think everything is better when it's read aloud.) Here are a couple specific things that I love:

• She does a great job with "Show don't Tell".
• She has a way of summing up characteristics or emotions in a single, vivid sentence that readers can identify with clearly.

I really enjoyed The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, although my girls disagree with me. M asked me (between sobs), "Why did you make us read that?"

They both said Despereaux was their favorite. No, we haven't seen the movie.

Here is her website. Enjoy.

I'm off to do some hiking today!

Breaking Rules

The next couple of days will be spent in a discussion of Kate DiCamillo's writing. If you have not read her books, I highly recommend that you do so before you read this. I'm not going to post any spoilers, but I am going to talk about her style. As with any author's work, it would be better to come at it without any preconceived or jaded ideas. So, off to the library with you. This will still be here when you get back.

At this moment, Kate DiCamillo is the author who ranks highest on my Oh-my-gosh-I-love-their-work List.Reading her books is what I imagine drowning in chocolate syrup might be like. Dying, but loving every minute of it. Her mastery with words makes me fall in love with language all over again. Am I gushing?

Her skill makes breaking the rules possible. It also confirms a suspicion of mine: when you're good enough, you don't have to follow the rules.

For instance, a number of the sources that I have been studying suggest that an author should pick one genre and format and stick to it. Very few people can write both picture books and novels and get away with it (or so they say). That obviously doesn't apply to Miss DiCamillo. From picture books and easy readers to YA and adult novels, she can and has written it all. And she is good at all of it.

Test Drive

Here is a bit of naughty fun. The prompt, from Zachary Petit's Blog, Promptly, was:

You go on a test drive in a new car. With the dealership representative in the passenger seat, you pull to the side of the road, turn off the engine, and lock the doors. “There’s something I should tell you,” you say.

Test Drive

I positioned myself in front of the wall of windows so that the sunlight would hint at my shape beneath the sheer skirt.The GQ salesman took the bait and approached, his smile doing laps around his face.I tried not to roll my eyes when he pointed out the vanity mirrors and cups holders.
“Does it carry the AJ34S or the new V6 III?”
His surprise registered noticeably.Oh, this was going to be good.A few more minutes of the necessary shop talk and he scooted off to fetch the keys.
I’ve always been a sucker for wild cats; and it was a magnificent car.The card in my wallet said his name was Jeff. He really was quite charming.Sometimes the end does justify the means, however, and the guilt vanished when I imagined how this was going to end.
The car squirted through traffic like a bead of liquid mercury.When I slipped it into the lot at the prearranged gas station, Jeff exuded reassurance.
“Oh, there is no need to purchase fuel, Ma’am. The dealership will take care of that when we return.”
“We’re not going back.”
Uncertainty clouded his eyes and I could see that he was composing his response.

My Heart's Desire

Dear Father,

You have already answered many requests,
From the gigantic to the mundane.
Well, I've got another big favor to ask.
So, here I am praying, Lord...again.

There's a pile of laundry I don't want to fold,
Waiting for me on the couch downstairs.
Baskets of undershirts, pants and towels,
Bed sheets and crew socks--all needing their pairs.

If you could see fit to take us to Heaven-
The sooner, the better. We won't mind!
We would much rather be with You anyway,
And I could leave the laundry behind!


I suppose, this is sort of a cheat. I wrote this poem in 2006 and have previously posted it on Avoiding the Laundry. It still echoes my sentiments, though.

*starting today (if I did it right), a new comment widget will be implemented. It will allow everyone to respond, not only to the post, but also to each other in a thread format. Let me know what you think!

First Date

As I head to the PO with my first manuscript submissions, I feel like I need to dress up. Make up, spiffy clothes, shoes that make me look taller, the works. Like I'm going on a date and first impressions make a difference. Why is it that I feel this way?

Teresa and Peggy have seen me in my grubs plenty of times, and no editor will ever know the difference.

I'm going to do it anyway.

Silly Stacy.

Logophilia

If you can define "logophilia" without the aid of a dictionary, then you are probably a lover of words. One of the cardinal rules of writing is "Don't use big words when small ones will do." But who can resist words like: perspicacity, lugubrious, pontificate, verisimilitude and the like? There is joy in letting such words roll off your tongue, and a guilty pleasure in the bewildered stares that often follow.

The exercise for today is to use your favorite scholarly word (or words) in a sentence (or sentences) in the comment section. Don't give us a definition though. Let us try to work it out from the context.

My current new favorite:

"...complaints of anonymous letters...all of which, through the perspicacity of the Police, turned out to have been written by himself to himself for the purpose of attracting notoriety."

Of course, I can't get away with using words like perspicacity without sounding precocious. That was Kipling.

So, what are your favorites?

Alexander Rapsnatty and the Ground Squirrel War

Here is a portion of my latest children's story (and pipe dream picture book). What you need to know:

When his father is deployed, overzealous Alexander Rapsnatty is left to guard the home front under the watchful eye of a mother who is likely more understanding than he suspects.

At noon, on the second day of my leave from basic training, the Ground Squirrels declared war. They stole the hot dog right off my plate during our picnic and dragged it down into their hole. Mom didn’t believe me. She said I probably fed it to the dog, and no, I wasn’t getting any apple pie.

The next day, I chased two Ground Squirrels with the lawn mower. That wasn’t the best plan of attack. They were faster than I expected. Mom said that the mower wasn’t an assault vehicle and I was going to have to buy new flowers with my allowance.

What follows is an escalating battle that ends with Al landing in the brig and finding a surprising solution to the conflict.


Parts of this story are based on personal experience, which I will categorically deny if questioned.

Sedentary

A writer's job is inescapably sedentary. You read, write and edit sitting down...for hours...and days...in the same chair...watching the seasons change...

It will take a great deal of time to undo the damage of living with a knee injury for too long. However, I think I have found a solution that will help me get back in shape and allow me to keep up with reading (and restore blood flow to my rear). I've started listening to audio books on the treadmill. I know this is not a thunderous revelation. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I don't need the rhythm of music to keep me going, as I thought at first.

Now, if I only allow myself the indulgence of the books while I'm working out, then I can be sure that I will get back on the treadmill again tomorrow. Needing to know what happens next is probably enough. I wish I had discovered this sooner!

If you have an inactive job, what do you do to get (or keep) yourself moving?

Rudyard Kipling

Long before I began noticing the boys around me*, I had two mad crushes. The second was Rudyard Kipling. (The first was Simon Bolivar, but never mind about that.) How could a girl resist a man with a name like Rudyard and an incredible storytelling sense? Every tale is a sensory rich experience.

A two volume set of his works sits close to my reading chair and we indulge often. His stories are best enjoyed out loud and I love his endearing (yet sometimes wicked) sense of humor.
I am currently reading "Something of Myself", an autobiography of sorts. In the chapter called Working Tools, he shares insights for writers.
On your muse:

"When your Daemon is in charge, do not try to think consciously. Drift, wait and obey."

On critics:

"And the generality of them seemed to have followed other trades--in banks or offices--before coming to the Ink; whereas I was free born."

On books:

"My treatment of books, which I looked upon as tools of my trade, was popularly regarded as barbarian...There were books which I respected because they were put in locked cases. The others, all the house over, took their chances."

On editing:

"They were originally much longer than when they appeared, but the shortening of them, first to my own fancy after fanciful re-readings, and next to the space available, taught me that a tale from which pieces have been raked out is like a fire that has been poked. One does not know that the operation has been performed, but everyone feels the effect."


"...it was necessary that every word should tell, carry, weigh, taste, and, if need were, smell."

He even talks about writing instruments, which leads me to believe that he relished the tactile element of long hand.

My family loves the Just So stories and The Jungle Book (which is perhaps why I have such a violent reaction to what Disney did with it), but I think my favorite is Kim. In that story, I can physically experience India, in spite of never having visited.

J likes The Cat Who Walked By Himself.
M can't decide between The Beginnning of the Armadillos and How The Rhinoceros Got His Skin.

Do you have a favorite?

*If you must know, the first time a boy offered to kiss me, I threatened to kick him "where it counts" and ran away. That was fourth grade.

Fiction is a Lie, pt. 2

It probably wasn't very nice of me to leave you stranded in the middle of a moral dilemma yesterday. Let's fix that.

The question is, "Can a Christian justify writing and reading Fiction, when it is ultimately a lie?"

If great men like CS Lewis (who was wholeheartedly passionate about God) can write fiction (allegories aside), then the answer must be "Yes!" But even sincere men of faith can sin, so that can't be our only answer.

Fiction is an agreement between writer and reader to suspend truth for a time. Even when an author passes his work off with authority, there is a knowing wink between them. The knowledge that it isn't real to begin with is a safety line, allowing the reader to become fully immersed in the story with the guarantee that they will come out unscathed on the other side. This diffuses the lie.**

In spite of what Oscar Wilde said, art imitates life (I'm pretty sure my life has never imitated a Renaissance Masterpiece). To a degree, art also imitates truth, whether it intends to or not. Any story of good and evil is a picture of the battle between righteousness and unrighteousness, however subtle. Fiction (for a follower of God) must then follow certain standards. While evil does not always have to win, it can never be glorified. Characters don't always have to conquer their flaws, but they must be perceived as flaws. God must never be portrayed in a way that does damage to his Holiness.


In the answer, there is also an echo back (at the bottom) to what has already been said about reflecting our Creator when we create.

Does it have to be real (or true) in order to honor God? Can a work of fiction still acknowledge the preeminence of the Almighty? Can you write about dragons and fairies without insulting the Creator of the Universe? This is not a topic that can be adequately addressed here. I can only ask the questions and point to one resolution. You have to finish the wrestling on your own. If you can answer these questions to the satisfaction of your conscience, with the help of the Holy Spirit, then let the lies fly!


*Young children miss the wink between author and reader that renders fiction safe. If you cannot supply the safety line for them, then the nightmares at 2am are your own fault for letting them absorb something they aren't ready for.

Fiction is a Lie

A dear friend of mine says that "What if" questions are all lies. She is a godly, Christian woman whom I respect deeply. And she is right. If it causes worry, doubt or a lack of faith in God's ability to protect and provide, then "what if" is most certainly a lie, and we need to crush it before it takes hold.

Which brings us to fiction (writing or reading). Yesterday, we looked at how all fiction is born of the question, "What if?". If we follow my friend's logic, all fiction is therefore a lie. Once again, she is correct. Magic, vampires, fairies and the like have no foundation in reality or fact. Do we then need to crush them like worry or doubt?

As a follower of Christ, that question doesn't have such an easy answer for me (but hang in there). In Sunday School, the 3rd & 4th graders and I are studying the types of things the Bible tells us we should think and speak about. (I hesitate to say I am teaching them because that is often not the case.) Phil. 4:8 says we should think about things that are true, noble, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent and praiseworthy. I compared that to 8 gates our words need to pass before they are allowed to enter the house where we dwell. According to this verse, fiction doesn't even pass the first gate.

The class has also talked about how everything we do should bring glory to God (I Cor 10:31). That includes changing diapers and cleaning our rooms. Even the most menial tasks can bring honor to our Heavenly Father if they are done in His service and for others. That doesn't mean we have to sing the Hallelujah Chorus while on diaper duty. It does mean having the mind of a willing servant.

Just to make sure you have the same headache I have, let's add 2 Cor 10:5. "Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ". I'm pretty sure Sauron and the One Ring fall into that category.

Take a deep breath. I'm not trying to shoot down the entire genre of fiction. We'll pick this up tomorrow. Right now, I need an aspirin.

What If

All Fiction* begins with the question, "What IF?"

What if the girl falls in love with a vampire? What if the magician's trick goes horribly wrong? What if there was life in outer space? What if the princess turned into a frog instead of the other way around? What if the most unlikely person saved the world?

Eavesdrop on children pretending and you'll see where this develops.

"Let's play Princess**!"
"Okay. I'll be the princess and you be the witch."
"But I don't waaaant to be the witch."
"Okay, we'll both be princesses."
"Yeah. And Caleb can be the prince and he can rescue me from the dragon.***"
"And what if the the witch**** puts a spell on the prince to make him fall in love with her?"
"Oh! Oh! And what if she turns the dragon into a fairy*****?"

And so it goes.
Does that mean writers are just children who never grew up and got real jobs?
Probably.

As an exercise today, pick a "what if" and let your imagination run with it. If writing isn't your thing, chose a favorite novel and see if you can identify the "what if" the author developed.

*Some non-fiction probably falls into this category too, but we're not going to talk about that, are we?
**Absolutely no one plays house anymore.
***The dog is always the dragon.
****Somehow there's still a witch in this story.
*****Poor Kirby.

Birthday Surprise

Every other month, Writer's Digest holds a short story contest. They provide a prompt and the winner is published in a future issue.

There were over 550 entries to this prompt: "Parents look on in horror as a magician's trick goes horribly awry during a child's birthday party." Mine didn't make it into the top five*, but here it is anyway:

Birthday Surprise

The request for his services arrived in the mail on the same day as the eviction notice. There had been a time when Gregory the Magician had been the most sought after entertainer for miles. The dark, scuffed bag that had been handed down for generations would produce exactly what his audience had been wishing for with uncanny accuracy. Their faces would glow with astonishment and wonder. When the magic faded, they left with pleasant memories.

After his wife died, the magic betrayed him. Instead of delight, the bag had created fear and, eventually, retaliation. He had given up pleading for another chance. The bookings had stopped coming long ago. So it was with numerous misgivings that Gregory shook the tuxedo out of the dry cleaning bag and borrowed a car.

He arrived at the VFW hall early, as instructed. The father met him in the parking lot and explained that his daughter had some special “issues” and that he shouldn’t be surprised by her reaction to anything. If only he could be sure it wouldn’t be a reaction of horror!

When he was introduced to the birthday girl, she reminded him of a washed out painting. She didn’t speak, but tilted her head in a peculiar manner and seemed to be listening to something far away. It struck him that she might belong with the pale bats hanging from a fake branch at the zoo. He had a difficult time imaging anything that might bring her pleasure. A familiar feeling of dread began to tighten his stomach.

During the meal, Gregory the Magician worked the room, pulling chocolate coins from behind ears, coaxing colored scarves from thin air and telling jokes. He always had been good at making people comfortable. He had seen these faces so many times before: happy, expectant, oblivious. Only the girl’s face was different. Her family obviously loved her, but she lived behind a wall. She seemed miserable and isolated in the middle of her birthday celebration. For one brief moment, Greg longed to discover what would make her happy. In that moment, he felt a flutter stir inside.

After the presents were opened, Gregory eased into his act. Golden rings clinked and danced. Balloons flashed and poodles appeared. A silk flower squirted a good natured uncle. All the while, Gregory hinted that the best was yet to come. He could feel the magic taking shape in the bag. As he built toward his climax, he watched her face. There was not a smile, not a glint.

He began making grand flourishes over the bag, and from deep within he heard a rustle of wings. It was a slippery sound, like someone moving in a new trench coat. It was not the sound of birds’ wings. The girl’s head was tipped to the side and she was listening. Could she hear what he heard? Could she hear the dread that was about to rise from his bag? Oh, why did he have to picture the child as a bat! Now all the wishing in the world would not bring butterflies and puppies. He had never been able to prevent the magic once it began, no matter how hard he tried.

In one unstoppable motion, the vortex of bats exploded into the bright room. Greg stood frozen and watched the chaos of waving arms and screaming and leathery wings. Parents tried to shield children while fending off nightmares of their own. Standing on the edge of it all was the little girl. Her face was no longer blank. There was intensity in her eyes that made him gasp in surprise. He recognized that look as one of unbounded joy. Like a tiny bell, her voice chimed into the room.

“Unless you are an insect, you don’t have to be afraid. Please, sit down before you hurt them.”

An uneasy hush settled over the room as everyone’s attention shifted to their guest of honor. Small brown bats were hanging from her outstretched arms and gently swinging from the streamers above her. With confidence, the girl shared her love of the strange creatures they all feared. As she spoke, no one noticed the bats fading back into the nothingness that they had come from. When she finished, the girl dropped her arms to her sides and tilted her head to listen. But the joy never left her eyes.

Maybe hope was a thing with wings, even if it did perch upside-down.

Gregory the Magician was back.

*I'm not sure if you'll be able to see them if you're not a member of the forum, but the top five stories can be read HERE (starting with Working Professional).

The Chronicles of Vladimir Tod

The Chronicles of Vladimir Tod-Eight Grade Bites is a YA vampire story. That is the only similarity that it has to Twilight. Which is a good thing.

It's about a junior high boy. It's funny. It's crammed full of action, conflict and mystery (182 pages compared to 498). The characters are all interesting. The dialogue is good. And I want to read more. Thank goodness there's still 9th-12th grade.

Reading these books leads me to another question, though: Where have all the real Vampires gone? The trend in writing seems to be in creating a new breed of vampire; one that has developed a conscience and chosen an alternate food source (In Twilight, they're even concerned about upsetting the ecological balance-sheesh). They seem more like superheroes with an acceptable dark side than villains. Why is that?

The answer probably lies somewhere in a deep social commentary about the demons in young kids lives today. Perhaps they do need a vampire or two on their side.
But I miss Dracula.
I miss the clear cut line between good and evil.

Twilight

Reading Twilight is like removing a Band-aid. If you do it quickly, it doesn't hurt as much.

The story doesn't really get interesting until page 371 when the other vampires show up. For the first 16 1/2 chapters, they go to school and stare at each other a lot (in various states of rage, confusion, frustration, amusement, curiosity...). At one point, Edward saves Bella from an imminent disaster, leading her to discover his secret (which the reader already knows).

Bella is boring. She doesn't react. She doesn't grow. She doesn't do anything--except trip predictably. So why write the story from her POV?
Now, Alice, on the other hand.... Alice is interesting. She's got a mysterious past, genuine concern for her brother and a desire to see his relationship with Bella succeed. And skills. Maybe Alice should have told the story.

If I were a HS girl reading this book, Edward could easily be my next crush. But I still wouldn't want to be Bella. Even a girl in a boring town, with a boring personality and non-existent level of self confidence wants to imagine that she has something worthwhile to bring to a relationship. Bella isn't the one I'd want to identify with as a reader. For that, my money is on Alice.

PS-What's with the apple?

**Tomorrow, we're going to talk about a completely different vampire book, so stay tuned!