Paul Willis's Blog, page 3

No Authors Harmed…

Camp NaNoWriMo is going well, or rather, I’m still alive…

My sister, Anna, is a fellow camper and she volunteered to help me create this video; a dramatic portrayal of the camper’s experience.

Disclaimer: No authors were harmed in the making of this video (except when I banged my elbow really hard trying to roll sideways down the tree)

To be entirely honest, I haven’t put as much into this as last time–YET. The reasons include, but are not limited to:

Completing some prior commitments
Making videos
Planning college

However, you can expect to hear back in a week that I have hit my 35,000 word editing/rewriting goal. I hope.

The reason for my participation in this virtual camp is that Crossroads now has a deadline. I plan to publish around mid-June 2017 for exciting reasons I will reveal in a future post!

Blue Sky Tag

I was tagged by Crystal at Crystal’s Adventures for Christ! Now I’m it and you get to hear me be grilled. Thanks for the tag, Crystal!

There are rules for the “Blue Sky Tag.”

Thank the person who tagged you (done!)
Answer their 11 questions (read the following)
Tag 11 people
Give them 11 questions to answer

1. When did you start your blog? How long has it been?

I first posted on December 3, 2016. It’s been 4 short months; sweet months. And I’m looking forward to a bright future.

2. What is your favorite thing to eat?

Ahhhhh!!! Definitely not sushi. Chinese food? Mexican food? Can I spend 500 words on this question? Please? Ice cream counts. But that’s kind of a given. I like the chicken marsala I’ve had. But the chicken cordon bleu totally compares. I would eat those about every day if I could. And fried mushrooms? Can’t get better. I’ve never tried sushi, but I don’t plan to. The only fish I’ve ever liked is cod, and that was cooked.

3. Cats or dogs?

Oh, hard question. My family has had two cats throughout the years I remember. The first was mean and dangerous. The current one, however, is a very sweet tabby. One of my sisters is training a service dog right now. She’s a very lovable golden retriever and she’s very personable, unlike the cat. Though well mannered, she’s always up for a romp. I guess it’s just like people. There are introverts and extroverts and both are really cool. So my answer is: yes.

4. What is something you fear?

Sushi

5. Have you published a book? or written a short story randomly? If so, what is it about?

Yes! I wrote a 6,000 word mystery and published it with Kindle Direct Publishing. As I said, it’s a mystery and that makes it difficult to say more without giving the answer away. But…

When Detective Greywood gets a midnight case from a forgetful friend, he thinks it’s just another robbery. But when he learns his client stored the world’s eighth largest diamond in a highly secure bank vault, he knows there must be much more to the case. Only the owner himself could retrieve the diamond.

See that? I think I actually answered this one!

6. Tea or coffee?

I have to say cinnamon tea to appease the hardcore coffee people who don’t think a super sugary frappe is real coffee.

7. Would you rather eat white chocolate or dark chocolate?

White chocolate. Hands down. Same reason why I don’t drink natural coffee.

8. Have you ever been in a life-threatening situation?

Everyday! I tease my sisters (sometimes…). I get in the car. I crawled on my stomach to the top of a mountain in extreme wind. I fell out of a canoe without knowing how to swim and thought I might die. The life jacket did its work, though. I’ve been on very tall ladders I didn’t think were safe. I fell out of a tree on my back. Wait, that just hurt. Our family van stopped in the middle of traffic and I had to jump out to push it. I was safer on the ground anyway.

No hospital worthy emergencies. So actually, no. I haven’t coded.

9. What is your goal in life?

Honor God, and do the things He has for me, even if they don’t seem that “great”. Along with, I want to be a family man, the main provider for said family, and a discipler. I’d also like to have some success at being an author. That would be fun!

10. Have you ever played video games? If so, what’s one that is one that you enjoyed (even if you played it only once)?

I’m not big on video games and frankly don’t have a lot of time for them. I messed around with Minecraft but ignored all the quest stuff and played like it was Legos. I’ve also played 0 A.D. which is an ancient civilization real time war game. I don’t think it’s considered an RPG because it’s more like Catan. You start out with a small number of people with a small territory. You direct them to gather resources, build more buildings, and expand your territory. You get more people and (should) start building a military force of, say, Macedonian hoplites. The goal is to basically beat the other civilization and take over their buildings. I haven’t played it in a long time but I liked it because it had the strategy/resource feel of Axis & Allies combined with the ability to fight in formations like the phalanx. And it was free, so… cool! I’m impressed with such open source projects.

11. Are you a night owl or an early bird?

Night owl, wannabe early bird. I think better in the morning, but I have more fun hanging out with my family at night. It’s always a sacrifice either way.

Ah! I’m supposed to tag 11 people, but it seems that all the bloggers I know are already tagged!

I’ll tag three and then if anyone else wants to do it, consider yourself tagged.

Camp NaNoWriMo

Yes, I am doing Camp NaNoWriMo.

The project: editing Crossroads through to 70,000 words. I’m calling it a rewrite.

This post is late. There are good reasons. I must return to camp. Just watch the video.

5 Ways to Frustrate Readers

1. Kill characters because you find it fun

Come on! You’re a writer and you enjoy this. In fact, you offer a comprehensive package: last words, cause of death, mourning, gravedigging, funeral services, and more mourning. You probably even bring the rain. This is your element but its benefits are twofold if you kill beloved characters for no plot-furthering reason. It will frustrate readers.

2. Add commentary in the author’s voice

There is no better way to make your story unbelievable than to draw readers out of the flow with your observations. If you struggle to create content for this purpose, think about writing moral lessons. Analyze your characters and comment on their decisions and attitudes. And if you really want to frustrate your readers, spiderweb away from the topic at hand. Readers hate tangents.

3. Don’t let the obvious happen

Set up a guy and a girl who are just perfect for each other. Then make one of them say “this just won’t work” and walk away. Have a cool detective investigate a murder. There is a suspect and all the evidence points to him but right in the climax reveal the detective as the murderer. Plot twists like these will ensure your content is original and will keep your readers on the edges of their seats (doing their best not to jump up and kill you).

4. Make mortals immortal but still mortals

Let me break this down. Make your regular human characters seemingly immortal but never offer an explanation for why they seem immortal, so your readers assume they are still mortal but can’t die. It works. I never find myself relating to the guy who defeats alien hordes with a spoon but never has to see the doctor. Make sure your readers don’t believe your character can die and if you can’t frustrate them, you’ll at least bore them.

5. Avoid any and all closure

This is a must have if you want readers to read to the end and be frustrated. It is even more effective when paired with #3. Do your best to raise questions, suggest future answers, and then write “the end” before you can resolve anything. This is extra frustrating when done across a series. You might not succeed in your goal with the first book, but after properly avoiding closure on the fourth or fifth book, readers will be frustrated. They will probably be suspicious of your intentions and wonder if you really have notes for the final book. In short, leave them with the same question you raised at the very beginning of the story and

Why Dystopian?

Crossroads, my current project and first novel-sized work, is in the genre I call Christian dystopian. As I’ve rewritten, reread, and reconsidered it, I have been caused to examine its deepest elements.

This has led me to answer the question, why dystopian?

For one, the genre is interesting and popular. I wonder, why is it so popular, especially among young adults? Is that merely a product of marketing? No, I believe it stems directly from a fundamental issue of our generation. We are scared.

I write dystopian because it’s real. It is has been real and is becoming even more real. The dystopian world, the setting, is a mere exaggeration of life as we know it. It is the progression of every circumstance.

The evil, all too controlling government that many countries know today is aided to the extreme by technological advancements. The globalist government is the final fulfillment of today’s political problems. Nuclear capabilities have existed since 1945. Superbugs are even more frightening (sickening actually). What about the stories where the economies have collapsed? Double the effect of the 1929 depression. And there is only a fraction of the world’s current population left? Our future generations will be wiped out by unchecked abortion, assisted suicide, and euthanization.

We are on a road, the same one we’ve been on since the fall. God, in His mercy, has placed two setbacks in this destructive course: the flood and the cross. But each time the devil and his minions have fought hard against the renewing effects.

In our day, Christians are persecuted. Be it death in the east or ridicule and regulations in the west. Take the widespread, top-down animosity toward Christianity in the United States, and multiply it. How many generations will it take?

I cannot pretend to tell the future. God can reverse the downward spiral again in the near future. But without His grace, humanity is going down in judgment. And we are scared.

Which brings me back to Crossroads.  It is not prophetic of the way things will be; but it is an encouragement to young people that even in the midst of impending hardship, there is hope, there is victory. This book isn’t about the oppressive government or the heroism of the protagonists. It is about being broken to the point of dependence on God, and it is about Heaven. That is our hope and our victory.

On a final note, when I observe what has been created in the dystopian genre and what has created it, I am saddened by the answers. My secondary purpose for Crossroads is to buy back the dystopian genre with a distinctly Christian worldview. In a somewhat allegorical form, it should equip my readers with a biblical mindset in dealing with our world, politics, and circumstances today.

Postscript: (because I’m bad at closing thoughts) if you’re unfamiliar with the Christian dystopian genre, I recommend you check out my review of Counted Worthy by Leah Good.

 

Patriot-A Poem

Happy birthday to my sister Kate; my blogging friend, writing friend, reading friend, fun friend, and friend. Don’t tell Kate I did this. Named the post something else and then snuck this in here. Haha!

Anyway, I wrote a poem. I don’t do it often; only when inspiration strikes. Here goes.

The wind screams and shivers,

And winds among the stones,

Searching for its long-lost tune,

As I listen to its moans.

Even though the night is dark,

I do not fear the graves,

It is the memories that haunt me,

And wash o’er me like waves.

The soldier’s earthen mound,

And epitaph engraved,

Echoes duty’s call and tells,

What the patriot has braved.

His character and happiness,

His determined sense of right,

His never flinching sacrifice,

Is what brings me here tonight.

He shouldered responsibility,

He trained with us in mind,

He left to end the plague of war,

Now he’s buried with his kind.

The night wind has found its tune,

It sings a battle song,

I know where I am going,

I know the journey’s long.

I go in the soldier’s legacy,

My ship leaves at first light,

And even though I go to die,

I will; I will to fight.

Some of the pacing is choppy, but I hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it!

A Day in the Wilderness

This weekend was my church’s annual Men’s Prayer Advance. We go low budget and tent camp in the middle of nowhere with zero facilities.

I live in Arizona, specifically the Phoenix area. Camping here is a reenactment of Israel’s wandering in the desert–without the manna. After several preaching sessions on spiritual disciplines, we dispersed into the desert for a three-hour prayer walk.

I’m not entirely new to the desert, but walking in it is certainly different from viewing it from the freeway. From far away it looks rather flat, but in reality, it dips and rises, twists and turns. I found myself constantly in the dilemma, should I pray with my head bowed or look where I’m going to keep from falling into the next wash?

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Walking out there is very rigorous, but I found it enjoyable in the long run. The 90+ degree weather (full sun) made my human frailty hit home.

When you’re still thirsty after guzzling four bottles of water and you’re getting a little dizzy, you start looking around and realize you’re entirely alone. You climb a small hill and see the rough landscape stretching far away (sadly I could still see the semis glinting in the sunlight on a distant road). But you realize as long as you are there and God is with you, this scorched wilderness is far from God forsaken.

For the record, I saw zero rattlers. Only a few chipmunks, lizards, and jackrabbits seemed to inhabit the place. I started out heading east from camp with water, a whistle, and a phone for emergency calls. After about forty-five minutes, I changed course and headed straight south toward this small mountain. (I don’t know how far it was.)

 

[image error]A close up of the small mountain I climbed.

 

I have to say the desert is beautiful when you get up above it. The mountain I climbed wasn’t very high, but its construction made the climb more of a scramble than a hike. I shrunk when I got to the top because the sky was too big. Way too big.

 

[image error]Looking south. The whole Phoenix valley is behind me.

 

I let out a cheer at the top, and it was immediately answered by the hoot of an owl or the yip of a coyote; I’m not sure which it was supposed to be. Needless to say, I met a friend on the same ridge and we scrambled back down together. We talked about our respective novels and their themes/worldview/purpose among other things. The way back was much quicker because we went in a fairly straight line, although we could have gotten lost without a distinctive wash and the line of electric poles. As it was, we came out further south than we thought and started second guessing our course, until we smelled the baked beans.

My dad and I hadn’t packed any camp food, and he had to go into town for gas; so he brought me Chick-fil-a for dinner. I was just barely in time. I found a chair and listened to some very interesting/edifying conversations and had a few laughs till the evening sermon about “Prayers of Faith”.

Amidst the prep for the Prayer Advance, someone forgot the wooden podium. So we had to make do. A group of brothers took a truck out to a sandstone boulder and brought it back. Unfortunately, it broke into sections, but they found some old wire fencing and wrapped it around it to hold it together. The addition of a flat rock turned it into the coolest pulpit ever!

 

[image error]An energetic pastor was afraid he’d break the soft sandstone in the middle of his sermon.

 

At the end of the night, all the chairs were arranged in a large circle and we had a corporate prayer time. I was very blessed and very tired. Praise God for a community of faith striving to apply the will and Word of God in all areas of life!

On a completely unrelated, irrelevant side note, I hit the first quarter mark of my Crossroads rewrite/edit!

Novel X Update

If you got notified of a post on Wednesday and then it disappeared, sorry about that. It was an unsuccessful test of sorts.

Short Story: The Duet

I wanted to break out of editing my novel and my beta reading projects, so I sat down and wrote a short story. This is the result of wanting to try a different point of view and tense…

It was the third week of spring. I was playing an imaginary game, probably I thought I was a hero avenging some great evil. I had forgotten that the empty house next door was no longer uninhabited, and crossed the property line.

You were kneeling in the middle of a freshly tilled patch of soil with your skirt spread around you like a flower. I didn’t even see you, much less where I was going. My game carried me through your precious garden. The shy seedlings you had been cultivating with excitement had only just showed their faces. My fancies wrought a destructive dance on your fragile magnus opus, unaware until you pushed me out. When I realized what I had done, my heroism was also crushed and I apologized with tears. You accepted my apology but gave me a few pointers on grown up behavior. We must have been ten.

I stop to remember. Even I, with a healthy mind, have difficulty with the past. Random moments, with little importance attached, shout for attention. I pick another one up.

You liked to sing. You always sang. When you were alone you sang. I know because I did homework in the treehouse on the edge of our lot just to listen to you sing. I can’t say it was beautiful, though in reflection, I think it must have been, but I considered the lyrics you invented to be very intelligent. I asked you once to sing one again and you had forgotten it, so I begin to write the words as you sang them. I lost the book sometime ago in the move, but I have pieces of your imagination mixed with that of the greats in my head.

Yes, you like to sing. I tortured a violin and neither of us called it music. My mother, however, had impressions–did we agree that she was tone deaf?–about my “talents”. She asked if we would do a special at Church. I still don’t know what happened, only that I didn’t say yes, but somehow the Pastor thought we were doing it.

There was very little practice in our wake when we stepped up in front of the congregation. It dawned on me for the first time as you stood at my two o’clock that you would be pretty if your face wasn’t red from crying. I had no idea what caused this pre performance breakdown but you assured me that it didn’t have anything to do with me or my music.

My curiosity distracted me as I sawed at the steel cords, though I doubt it affected the quality of my playing. In the end, our duet was a disaster. You abruptly stopped singing one third of the way through the piece because we were in two opposing keys. Years later, we agreed that I had accidentally transposed it (which you asserted was a genius of its own). You told me it was my fault but I told you I just needed you to sing louder. I did said I was sorry for causing you embarrassment.

You told me to laugh it off, that even the mistakes weren’t a big deal if I faced them right. You told me that God could make me a great violinist if I worked with Him.

I look up and see her smiling at me. I check my watch. There is still time and she seems interested by my stories. I fast forward and choke on the first words.

I asked your Dad. With his encouragement, I didn’t waste any time in planning. I invited you to dinner and instructed that you to wear your best. You did. I think the dress was new; you must have bought it for the occasion.

I picked you up in my car, I was proud of it, and we drove to town. We talked like always.

You were flustered by the restaurant I chose. You had never been anywhere so expensive. I got nervous the moment I opened the door for you.

We were shown to a candlelit table for two. I pulled out your chair for you; you’ve since told me you didn’t notice my manners, but I know they weren’t wasted.

Then I sat in my seat, and I felt as if an expensive rug had been pulled from under me. I couldn’t feel the wallet I always had in my back pocket. You were already searching the menu, asking me what the words meant. I told you about the problem, ashamed of my mistake.

You informed me, gently, it was the kind you could forgive. We sat in my car and you found some cash in the glovebox–was it really from your purse? I was wondering if I should attempt to salvage my plan for the evening when you suggested we get a burger. My mind was made up then and there. I asked you to be my wife in the parking lot of Jack in the Box.

She reaches out her hand and I take it in mine. It’s warm and soft.

“Do you remember?” I ask one heartbeat away from hurt.

She doesn’t answer. All she says is, “Tell me more.”

Marie had grown up in the Lord. We had no doubts about her character and I extensively vetted Darren. But still we panicked when he asked to court her.

She laughs with me. Both of us look toward the picture framed on the wall. The little family is our legacy.

We wanted the best for her, but he does too.

They invited us to their home to see our first grandchild. You were afraid to fly, so they paid our gas. We traveled seventy miles on the wrong road and camped on the side of the road by the woods. You were scared to be out there at night, but I promised to protect you. I meant it, but you were mad at me when you found I was asleep in the morning.

I forget where I am. I don’t know how long I’m lost. She calls me back with a squeeze of my hand.

You were officially diagnosed with dementia. We went home and I thought you would be sad. I wasn’t surprised though when you wanted to watch a movie. It was so stupid I don’t even remember the title, but it cracked you up–you know you get hysterical when you’re stressed out.

I want to laugh and cry, but I only cry.

“I’m not dying yet,” she comforts me. “I do still remember some of those things, though not in the details.”

I look into her eyes. They are just as deep and amber as ever.

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“Don’t be sad,” she speaks again. “I asked for stories, not just to remind me, but to

remind you. I wanted you to laugh over the duet. Yes, the bumps hurt, the stress, the mistakes, the garden, but when you look back and see what God has blessed us with what He has done through us, you can laugh at the flat notes. We are a duet.”

I have nothing to say. She is once again my Jack in the Box angel; she always has been.

“I love you. You’ve been so wonderful, and I couldn’t ask for a better husband. I do know it will be painful when I forget more or change. It may get hard to talk, but–” she stops.

“What?” I encourage her. I don’t want her thoughts to go unfinished.

“I’d love to listen to you play.”

I pull my hand away and rub my fingers together. My hands are wrinkled now but the pads are calloused. I can feel the vibration of strings held beneath them. I haven’t played for over fifty years.

“I only remember one song.”

“That’s good both ways. You’ll perfect it, and it’ll be brand new performance for me each time.”

I know she is only half teasing but I like to see her grin. It makes her beautiful.

There is a knock on the door. My eldest son is here to drive me to an appointment. Every time I have to leave, I wonder if she won’t know me when I come back. I stand up and lean over to whisper in her ear, “I need you to sing louder.”

She giggles.

The End

Christian Fiction Part 3: Appealing to Teens

Writing a story crafted toward a specific audience means appealing to its desires. The danger  for Christian writers in this area is, as always, compromise. If we write what people want in all areas, we will end up cultivating the wrong desires. I see several things written specifically to appeal to teens that can be harmful.

A desire for power

If only I was special and people looked to me as a leader. What if even my parents were indebted to me…

I read a story and begin connecting with the MC. Then 1/4 of the way through I discover along with him that he alone has the special power or was in the right place at the right time. Now the world is depending on him. He is the savior to 7 billion people (or make that a few thousand depending on the extent of the global catastrophe).

That could happen to me (or I wish it could). Then people would respect me, I’d have cool friends, and most of all I’d actually be doing something important. But that hasn’t happened yet, the dog ate my homework, and I’m sitting here… *sigh* [insert daydream here]

Maybe one story like that that is clearly an anomaly would be natural. But there’s a reason this is so popular. The shelves are filled with these books and so are teenagers’ heads. This encourages an unrealistic, unhealthy desire for prominence, self-sufficiency, and fantastical ability.

The stories you write will make an impression on your reader’s thinking, and as I’ve mentioned before we want to change then in a Christlike direction. For example, I have a friend who is writing a superhero novel. The MC has a God-endowed ability to move quickly/run at superhuman speeds. I think future readers will come away impressed with how he shares the Gospel at every chance he gets and consults God on ethical decisions.

2. A desire for independence.

Closely paired with point one, YA fiction makes sure the MC is an orphan, runs away, or her circumstances force her to operate without anyone to tell her what is right and wrong.

Come on, people! Your parents aren’t just your legal guardians. They are bosh guardians, physical guardians, and creep guardians. Yep, they aren’t called guardians for nothing (BTW it’s the coolest title ever! Sounds like Dad’s fighting Florentine and Mom’s got a bow and arrows with eagle fletching). You have a loyal/skilled detachment with life experiences fighting for you. They are also your best source of wisdom; advisors who truly care for your well-being.

But the MC ignores all this and somehow lives an independent and magically incredible life.

I hope you, as a Christian writer can pinpoint the error in this (let me know in the comments if you need me to make a biblical case for this). If you write this way you will most likely encourage a devaluing of God-given authority and protection. This is not how you want to change your readers. You don’t want them to think they can do this on their own and “aren’t normal teens saving the world from alien invasions at my age?”

Most teens already struggle with a natural/sinful tendency to rebel. Fictional, circumstantial autonomy is usually a guise for rebellion.

3. A desire for simple relationships.

The formulaic tough girl, ready to save the world…meets weak guy with good intentions…he continues to be a handicap but at least he has a cute smile…she is having an epic breakdown and she’s glad he’s there to give her a hug even though he doesn’t give any real comfort…he is always encouraging her; telling her she can do it…at the end of the day, there is an unspoken mutual understanding that even though they’re underage they’re committed to each other for life…oh, and she seems oblivious that his affections are only because of her unrivaled beauty (and her exceptional protection?). At least it’s sweet.

These kinds of portrayals of relationships are shallow and a twisted representation of the real deal. If this how you think guys and girls are meant to love, you’ll enter a relationship, find out the other person is irritating, has her own needs and expectations, and will actually speak some deterring wisdom into your life, and you’ll leave because you want someone who just hangs out and let’s you cry on them. Get real. This isn’t just a matter of worldview, it’s a matter of reality. If you’re 16 going on 17 get some discernment because the dude is wearing his heart on his sleeve in the form of a Nazi swastika (I do enjoy that movie actually, just saying). Relationships are very complicated because they involve broken people; and if you want to cultivate good expectations in young people’s minds, the fictional relationships need to be realistic and wise.

So if you’re going to write YA fiction, write:

a character who has a proper perspective on their prominence (if they must be prominent). For example: make them give glory to God for what He has enabled them to do and make humble statements about their human areas of inability.
a character who seeks wise counsel. And if at all possible give him helpful parents that would cause readers to respect their own.
a biblical relationship. If you write an attractive guy, make him attractive primarily because he pursues godliness and is duty focused (BTW he should still be sensitive to the girl; make him understanding and sweet). If you want to write an attractive young lady, make it be her pursuit of godliness and focus on her God given mission. Then make it “cute”.

Write what a young adult who is striving to follow God with all their heart, strength, and mind would find appealing. Point them to contentment with whatever mission and ability God has placed before them, appreciation for authority and heritage, and pure tangible love shown to the right person at the right time.