Thursday, March 19, 2009

What is Fiction, How Does it Work?

“The value of great fiction… is not just that it entertains us or distracts us from our troubles, not just that it broadens our knowledge of people and places, but also that it helps us to know what we believe, reinforces those qualities that are noblest in us, leads us to feel uneasy about our faults and limitations.” --- John Gardner, The Art of Fiction

The art is the fiction – the craft is how to write it. To write effective fiction, the hopeful fiction writer must have a firm grasp on both of these.
A well-versed fiction writer writes with the reader in mind. Once your story is complete, your story lives on only in the reader.


“When a book is not passing under the eye of the reader, when it is on a shelf, it is nothing but ink and paper and cloth – an artifact… It lives only in the repeated experience of it, in the memories of those who have experienced it, and in the minds of those who come to it.” ---William Sloane, The Craft of Writing.


“You promise the story will be told in terms of a people. True, you can dress those people in rabbit skins, as Richard Adams did in Watership Down, or in hobbit skins, as Tolkien did in his famous trilogy. But if you’ve read those books, you know that Adams’s rabbits were people and Tolkien’s hobbits were people, too. They thought like people, they acted like people. The story wouldn’t have meant anything to us if they hadn’t.
You promise that they story will have an end – as well as a beginning and a middle. Why mention the end first? One of the greatest frustrations in reading a story is getting to the end and saying, “That’s it?” A piece of fiction needs a satisfying ending. That doesn’t mean everything has to be resolved; the best, most satisfying fiction often leaves some things open. But your readers need you to bring the main conflicts to some sort of conclusion. They need, in the book’s language and rhythm, a strong sense of finality.
Learn to see your fiction as your readers will.”

--- Dave Lambert



“Good writing is always positive, it is always entertaining or useful or both. It is not a puzzle. Or a sermon. Or executed by a superior person for inferiors … . Great writing and writers about greatness have assumed greatness in their readers. Shakespeare assumes the king and the magician and the coward and the hero in everyone.” --- William Sloane, The Craft of Writing



Many Christian novelist, like myself, find it difficult to in learning to think properly about their reader. Although Scriptures tell us many times to stay humble, we seem to creep the arrogance side inside our book too often. We seem to have this conceited excellency about us because we think of ourselves as having written a book and those ignorant readers have never touched pen to paper before. We grow angry on thinking that the reader just might disagree with our views of abortion, theology, morality, politics, or even imagination.

“The writer of fiction cannot think of himself as morally superior to his readers. We have to respect them as our equals, intellectually and morally.
Arrogance is a particular danger for those who write for young people. Many of us have written for them not because we love and admire them and assume greatness in them, but because we want them to become more like us. Instead, our goal should be to humbly invite young people to join us in our quest to become more like Christ. Authors of the best, most effective fiction for young readers convey no sense of superiority. Young people who have made the Harry Potter books best-sellers never sense that J.K. Rowling is writing down to them. Those who decry the content of her books would do well to make their own fiction as respectful as their readers as hers.”
--- Dave Lambert



“One of the chief mistakes a writer can make is to allow or force the reader’s mind to be distracted, even momentarily, from the fictional dream… The writer distracts the reader – breaks the film, if you will – when by some slip of technique or egoistic intrusion he allows or forces the reader to stop thinking about the story (stop ‘seeing’ the story) and think about something else.” --- John Gardner


“We’ve all had the experience of immersing ourselves in a short story or novel so completely, we’re not even aware of holding a book. Then blam! We stumble across some awkward exposition, clumsy bit of dialogue, or poorly motivated action. Immediately, we’re aware that we’re reading a book. The author went to great lengths to put is in a fictional dream world, and then blew it.” --- Dave Lambert


Isn’t it true what Dave Lambert says here? For hours on end we sit and allow our minds to soar to worlds never imaginable while our eyes scan black and white words on a page that is so invisible to us. Our heart races when a characters legs run wild across the sands of a beach, our hands begin to sweat as the wild animal sinks his claws deeper into the flesh of our favourite hero, and our mind is beginning to ache with all the excitement, fear, and joy wrapped up in one sentence. But the only thing worst than having someone enter our silent abode of our rich world of reading with an abrupt statement such as, “didn’t you forget to take out the trash?” is the most horrid and distasteful words printed on the page that distorts all we have been sinking our minds into. The beautiful words printed on the page that so envelop our every fiber of being comes crashing down with a fatal blow when the wrong words are chosen for a perfect sentence, or the writer begins to write too quickly and dashes through that intense moment of intrigue. “How dare he!” We exclaim as we would if that person walked into our room exclaiming that the trash hadn’t been taken out. Our thoughts of this heroic writer are almost blown to bits by this one fatal mistake he has made. We writers must take into account that too many times we do the same thing. We become so fascinated with our own writing that we assume that no one could declare our writing to be repugnant. We must never forget to write for the reader, to think like the reader, but at the same time bring in all those little points that the reader might never have expected.


“How does a novelist create the fictional dream? By doing well all the things a novelist must do: creating believable, interesting, memorable characters; putting credible, economic dialogue in their mouths; moving smoothly from one well-crafted scene to the next; handling deftly the complexities of plot; giving the reader enough detail to envision your setting; and so on.
Like learning to play the piano, learning to write fiction is not a matter of memorizing a set of rules. It’s a matter of mastering a set of techniques. The artist – and fiction writer are artists – who desires to excel at fiction must dedicate himself to mastering them. As you’ve heard it said: How does one learn to write? By writing and writing and writing! That’s because the writing itself is your practice. Every page of fictional narrative you write is like that half-hour at the piano keys, honing your skills.”
--- Dave Lambert



Writer you must write, you must read, and you must never forget that writing is truly an art, an art for the very few chosen. True, books by the thousands have been printed by so many authors, but only the true writer knows how to shape his words perfectly so as to draw the reader in, make him feel as one of the characters, allow him to love the author, and cause him too feel as one with the writer.
For the love of Christ, and for His honour and glory, we must never forget to place those glorious points into our beloved story that allows the reader to see Christ in so many ways. Much like Jesus did with his parables, allowing the listener to hear a “typical” story and then walk away and exclaim, “I have been defrauded, that man spoke of Christ without my knowing. He was speaking of me when he spoke of that vile serpent, and he was speaking of the Saviour I so need when he described the perfectness of that spotless lamb. I listened intently without even knowing I was hearing a story about my Saviour. Now I know, I need Him!”
Reader, write, write, write, and read, read, read!



Thursday, March 12, 2009

The Train's Call

“The whistle of the train sounded in my ears,
He was leaving, and this time for good.
For so long I had pushed out of my mind, those fears,
Knowing that if he could stay he would.
The rumble of the train shook my still form,
As he held me close with tears in his eyes.
My hand caressed that beautiful uniform,
As from the wooden bench we did rise.
Steam rose from beneath the slowing train,
While the screech of the wheels came to an end.
Nature around us seemed not to understand my pain,
Nor how my heart in my chest cried out with its rend.
Oh God, bring him back from that war so dark,
Bring him back to me when you’re done.
But for now to your comforting words I will hark,
And this race on earth I will run.
These words I pray as on my knees I fall,
While I wait by the window inside,
Remembering the words of the conductor’s call,
And my beloved’s arms held out wide.
But in God’s timing he will return to me,
Though he may fight the war and die,
My heart is ever lifted to thee,
Knowing we will meet in your heaven in the sky.”
----Anna Michael

Monday, February 16, 2009

The Water of the Woods

"The woman leaned over the glistening water watching her reflection ripple as she plopped the tip of her finger into the cool liquid. She sat down on the edge of the small pool and rubbed the bricks reverently that held the water in. The water rippled again, but this time it was not because someone had touched it. It was calling to the woman, beckoning her to drink from it. The tired hands dipped her silver stein into the placid liquid and drew it back out, water dripping silently back into the pool from the bottom of the stein. Her hands shook with excitement as she raised the cup to her lips and allowed the fresh water to drain down her throat. She felt something spark inside her and caused a shiver to run up her spine. She finished off the water and eagerly filled her cup for the third time. The last drops from the cup dripped into her open mouth, her hand slipped from the stein’s handle and the metal cup came crashing down upon the stone floor. Her senses reeled, and her body felt like a boneless fish. She knew she had drunk too much, this had happened before, but once she began it was too hard to resist. She fell to the floor with a sickening pain throbbing in her head. She opened her eyes for the last time before she fell into a painless sleep. Her eyes caught the beautiful words written in Latin across the brick border… “The Water of Life.”"

The Water of the Woods by, Anna Michael (prologue, pg. 4)

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

The Writer's Poem


"Pencil shavings and dust,
Papers strewn about the floor,
Books lie open on the desk,
Smiles the silent keeper near the door.
What a home,
An abode to cherish,
The writer’s desk,
Ideas quickly flourish.
We sit, we sing,
We sigh, we think,
It’s the writer’s paper,
With imagination and ink.
Time is all the writer needs,
Time is all we ask,
With silent lips and ready mind,
We go about our beloved task."


---Briar Frost

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

My Beloved Shore


"My Beloved Shore"
“The wind and the waves,
The sigh of the sea,
The dust of the earth,
And the moon through the trees.
How I long for the touch,
Of the sand ‘neath my feet,
How I long for the crag,
Where I’ll take my seat.
Where the gulls cry above,
And where the salt-spray flies,
This is the tune of my home,
This is where I will lie.
The songs of the water,
And the songs of the beach,
One day on the shores,
Of my beloved home I’ll reach.
Where the waves sing their song,
And the wind softly hums,
There is where he’ll wait,
‘Till on the ship I will come.
But for now I must rest,
On the floor, cold and damp,
But in my dreams I will dream,
Of where at night you shall camp.
There on the shores,
On the rocks and near the sea,
I will soon reach my home,
Where my heart will ever be!”

----Briar Frost





Tuesday, January 6, 2009

The Snow Globe

The world turned upside down for the small porcelain characters as snow began making its slow way around and about the singing carolers. The picture of the big, lit-up house behind the three people was something that would cause a small child to stare at for ages. Children would gather around the beautiful snow-globe and watch in awe as their Mother would once again flip the scene upside down and create the snow-particles to float in a rhythmic way around the "closed-in" characters. The picture inside was beautiful, something that all children would wish they could enter. If only they could stand near the three stationary singers in the world of white and wait until someone came by and made the world snow once again. Perhaps if they could truly enter into this world they could run up to the picture-house and really enter inside. What travels through a child's mind many times travels through the minds of older people as well. Perhaps this is the reason for Mother to continue turning the globe upside down after the snow had fallen to the bottom of the snow globe... she too was enjoying the thought of dwelling inside this perfect world.

Suddenly Mother turns the globe upside down again, but this time she turns the nob on the bottom of the stand. After four short winding turns the globe is set down and the glorious musick begins. The children, and Mother included, are now in awe over the snow globe world. Perhaps the man inside the globe, which standing beside the singing woman, is truly playing the beautiful musick on his accordion. The world seemed to come alive after the musick began. More enter the room to watch and listen , enraptured by this small, delicate side-table decoration. The musick continues and the snow falls along with it. Those outside the snow globe only wish they had what was inside.
How many times do passerbys stop and glance into our lives, wondering what exactly is going on? They stand and watch for some time, viewing the way we carry ourselves, how we speak to those around us, or just our everyday life. We don't notice them watching and carry on with our life... but they are there looking inside. We continue our life singing our song, writing our tale, but to what end?

Is the beautiful musick that chimed from the glorious snow globe calling out to others from inside of us? Are they now watching not only with curious eyes but watching with awe? Are they enraptured with the song that we sing, and with the tale that we tell? Is our song truly from something greater than this world?
Once we begin to play the song of righteousness and allow the beautiful, pure snow to fall about us as a covering for our sins others will no longer look on us as any other person in the world. They will look with wonder and their heart will fill with longing. No longer will they want the life they lead, but they will stare into our life of glory and realize that there is something much great, and something much bigger that is guiding and directing our walk. What a glorious way to speak to others about the joy that we have than living it through our lives!

Saturday, December 27, 2008

The True Meaning!


Through out the holiday season I watch many people try to place God in their exciting "party time." They say something like, "now we can't forget that today is little Jesus' birthday." But I truly wonder if they are trying to place "little Jesus" into this holiday solely because they feel guilty. What is it we usually see them making a big deal over anyway? The presents? The food? The family?(surely not) We watch the kids running around in frantic excitement over what Santa Claus has put under the tree, or shooting their marshmallow guns like crazy... which, I can't slam them for that one. But if we look at the children we will see the image of the parents (this is always true, mostly when watching the kids actions and how naughty they are being), and find out what the parents are really instilling into their children. Do the kids ever bring up Jesus into the conversation? If they happen to, what exactly are they saying? Are they even understanding the true story of Christ's birth, or are they just placing the name of Jesus and the thought of a manger with a huge shining star hanging over it into the framework of the holiday of Christmas? Before we start placing this story of Jesus (which so many times leads children to look at it as just a fantastical story) into the holiday we call Christmas we need to be careful. If we do celebrate this holiday we need to check ourselves for not putting the wrong image of Christ into other people's minds (mostly when around many lost family memebers). We should treat (such as in speech or prayer) Christ as we have always done, and not adding in an extra "silly god" such as Santa. Are we celebrating this holiday for the sole reason of giving glory to God? And when we do bring God's name up are we placing the correct amount of honour to it.
It is very easy to get caught up with the Christmas tree, the stockings, the presents, and Santa but we need to make sure that even in our prayers we aren't thanking God for sending Santa all the way down here from the north pole to give our kiddies something nice. Very shortly Children begin to reverence Santa more than they do God. "He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake. You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout I'm telling you why, Santa Claus is coming to town." Wow, Santa sounds just as powerful as God, and we better not "sin" cause Santa will give us a lump of coal otherwise.
I thank God for giving us this time of fellowship with all our family so that we can share the true meaning of Jesus' birth without adding the fairy tale stories into it. I hope that everyone was able to "preach the Gospel everywhere and if you must use words!"