Mike Duran's Blog, page 14

Author Event at Mysterious Galaxy

[image error]Even with the publishing industry in major flux, Mysterious Galaxy has run a thriving brick-and-mortar store, becoming one of the premiere independent booksellers in SoCal. The store hosts hundreds of authors a year for signings, discussions, launch parties, and other events. Mysterious Galaxy also hosts a monthly Writers Coffeehouse workshop led by local author and five-time Bram Stoker award winner, Jonathan Maberry, as well as regular book discussion groups and occasional non-author events. So I’m excited to be part of the store’s most recent Author Event. I’ll be signing copies of The Ghost Box and Saint Death at Mysterious Galaxy, San Diego, this weekend, from 12-3. If you’re in the area, please plan on dropping by, saying hi, and supporting your local indie authors and bookseller.

Omniscient POV as Meta-Narrative

[image error]The last half of my “writing life” has involved unlearning much of what I learned in the first half.

Perhaps it’s necessary to teach beginning writers the “writing rules.” Some of those rules are:

Show Don’t Tell — Use action and dialog rather than exposition
POV — Maintain a consistent, realistic narrative point-of-view; don’t “head hop” from one person to the next in the same scene
Avoid Passives — Keep tenses active; Dean strangled the cat is better than The cat was killed by Dean

Of course, there’s many other rules and literary conventions, most of which have developed over time and are reinforced by academics, experts, or people in the know (i.e. published authors). But those are some of the biggies.

One such writing rule that I was taught was to avoid was omniscient Point of View. Sure, much of the dissuasion was not because of an essential flaw in the approach, but that it had fallen out of literary favor. But, alas, like many of the things I was taught to avoid, it appears that OPOV isn’t quite the bugaboo the church ladies told me.

In The Return of Omniscience, novelist Elliot Holt muses about recent appearances of the beloved eye in the sky. Interestingly, Elliot traces the 19th century falling out of OPOV to modernism’s emphasis upon the self and individual consciousness.

Gustave Flaubert believed that the ideal author should be “present everywhere and visible nowhere,” but in stressing invisibility, Flaubert was ahead of his time. Most 19th-­century novelists didn’t try to hide their authorial presence. With modernism’s emphasis on the self and the rendering of individual consciousness, omniscience became unfashionable. ­Twentieth-century realists moved closer to their characters and wrote in the first person or limited third.

So it was a shift away from “authorial presence” to the recognition of other presences, other minds, that inspired the abandonment of omniscience. The author’s “authority” was eventually seen less in her ability to get out of a character’s head and into a character’s head.

It is quite fascinating then to watch the slow return. And as Elliot observes, it has as much to do with postmodernism’s peculiarities as the falling out did with modernism’s peculiarities:

The old metaphor for omniscience was “author as God,” but in our largely secular digital age, authorial divinity could be replaced by a new analogy: author as smartphone. Computers augment our intelligence. Contemporary writers have the power to see streets they’ve never walked on and find historical dates and images in seconds. Browsing the internet is its own kind of omniscience: so much information, and all just a few clicks away. Perhaps the return of omniscient narrators reflects the sense we all have, as internet users, of access to unlimited knowledge.

And, conversely, in a world where our movements are tracked, where our web searches leave cookie crumbs, and where privacy is increasingly compromised, omniscient narrators resonate with readers. We know we’re being watched, by traffic and security cameras, by our employers, by the N.S.A., by random people taking pictures with their phones. We’re aware of the threat of hackers and cybercrime; artificial intelligence is getting smarter every day… Technological transcendence is “spooky”: Perhaps omniscience taps into this collective fear about loss of privacy.

Apparently, the literary world has nurtured modernism’s micro-narrative long enough. Why “head hop” when we can “world hop”, or “time hop”? Authors have proven that they can get under a character’s skin. So maybe it’s time that we return to the bigger picture, the “author as God.” Or should I say, “author as smartphone.” In this way, OPOV is the “meta-narrative”of our technologically transcendent society. Omniscience doesn’t dash the novelist’s need to see through others’ eyes. Rather, it reinforces the novelist as creator — both IN and ABOVE her creation.

In this era of omnipotent smartness, that lost mode of storytelling takes on new urgency. Technology forces us to see the world — and construct the stories we tell about it — differently.

I’m not sure how the country club, the ever-present defenders of the “writing rules” will feel about this. But as an author, it predicts worlds of possibility.

Horror v. Sci-Fi as a Vehicle for Morality

One of the common arguments against a Materialistic, Naturalistic worldview is its inability to define or present a compelling Moral universe. And as much contemporary sci-fi is tethered to such a worldview, it could be asked whether science fiction (at least, of the Materialistic cloth) is a fitting vehicle to address issues of morality.

The Wintery Knight once posed the question Does reading science fiction predispose people to atheism? His answer was, basically, yes.

Science fiction makes the mysteries of the universe seem easy to an atheist. Everything can be easily explained with fictional future discoveries. Their speculations about aliens, global warming and eternal universes are believed without evidence because atheists want and need to believe in those speculations. In the world of science fiction, the fictional characters can be “moral” and “intelligent” without having to bring God or the evidence for God into the picture. That’s very attractive to an atheist who wants the feeling of being intelligent and moral without having to weight actual scientific evidence or ground their moral values and behavior rationally. The science fiction myths are what atheists want to believe. It’s a placebo at the worldview level. They don’t want cosmic microwave background radiation – they want warp drives. They don’t want chastity – they want holodecks.

Avatar’s fickle deity may be the best example of what happens when atheists attempt to force a Moral code into their sci-fi storytelling. At the center of the story, at least from the “good pagan” protags’ perspective, is “All-Mother,” who is described thus: “All-Mother does not take sides. She balances nature.” All-Mother is, basically, Nature deified. Problem is, Nature is “red in tooth and claw.” Extracting morality from a evolved impersonal pantheistic life-force is problematic… especially when it comes to lessons on ethics and just war theory. You see, “if Nature is the arbiter of survival, then whoever has the biggest guns, wins; neither Deity or Destiny will intervene.” Which is why the Moral Universe that director James Cameron’s Avatar exists in is quite muddled.

So all the while Avatar is pushing a New Age, Neutral Deity, that Deity is busy acting very non-New Age and un-Neutral, arming her forces to the teeth. In the end, the Impartial, Impersonal Force of Cameron’s world turns partial and personal, comes to the rescue and turns, tooth and claw, on the bad guys… to make the story work, Avatar must abandon its New Age, Nature-worshiping, Gospel of Gaia sympathies, to bring about sufficient resolution to the story.

It’s the fly in the ointment of much contemporary sci-fi — If your fictional universe is a product of chance, material evolution, and random subatomic frenzy, then please don’t attempt to make your story a vehicle for morality. That is, any reasonable, cohesive morality. I mean, if the Force is impersonal and binding all living things together, then there really is no compelling reason why choosing Sith over Jedi is ultimately worse or better than the other. (Which is probably why George Lucas worked so hard to import Western concepts into his Eastern worldview.)

On the other hand, horror, it’s been suggested, is a genre more naturally tethered to rational, traditional morality. In his article, A Guide to Reading Ghost Stories, Robert Woods makes this point. Referencing Russell Kirk’s essay “A Cautionary Note on the Ghostly Tale,” Woods writes:

As with G.K. Chesterton’s assertion in his “Ethics of Elfland,” fairytales are inherently moral as they reflect a universe of moral order and consequences when good is dismissed and evil embraced. Russell Kirk writing of his own ghost stories says, “What I have attempted, rather, are experiments in the moral imagination. Readers will encounter elements of parable and fable…literary naturalism is not the only path to apprehension of reality. All important literature has some ethical end; and the tale of the preternatural…can be an instrument for the recovery of moral order.” (emphasis mine)

So just as there are “laws” that must be yielded to in the natural order, in “ghost stories” there is “a parallel principal within the supernatural order.” The affirmation of this “supernatural order” is key to the power of such tales. Or as Kirk puts it, “The better uncanny stories are underlain by healthy concept of the character of evil.” In other words, a universe with a moral order, where good and evil, holiness and horror, have real consequences, is intrinsic to ghost stories.[image error]

The author’s take turns interesting when ghost stories are juxtaposed against science fiction. Woods makes this point:

For Kirk, the “ghost tale” may better communicate certain truths when compared to science fiction. “For symbol and allegory, the shadow–world is a better realm than the mechanized empire of science fiction.”

These “certain truths” that Kirk references are, of course, truths belonging to ghost-stories and the supernatural, moral order. The “mechanized empire” of science fiction cannot adequately grapple with such realities precisely because it denies them. Or, at least, has an insufficient basis to explain them. This is what Kirk describes as “the dreary baggage of twentieth-century naturalism.”

Kirk explains in his essay:

…many people today have a faith in “life on other planets” as burning and genuine as belief in a literal Heaven and a literal Hell was among twelfth-century folk, say—but upon authority far inferior. . . . Having demolished, to their own satisfaction, the whole edifice of religious learning, abruptly and unconsciously they experience the need for belief in something not mundane; and so, defying their own inductive and mechanistic premises, they take up the cause of Martians and Jovians. As for angels and devils, let alone bogies—why, Hell, such notions are superstitious! (bold mine)

So the naturalist, having “demolished… the whole edifice of religious learning,” must deify “something.” Or as Chesterton put it, “When man ceases to believe in God, he doesn’t believe in nothing. He believes in anything.” Thus, having no supernatural moral order to point to, the naturalist must look for something to fill the void. Of course, this defies his “own inductive and mechanistic premises.” Nevertheless, they replace angels and devils with “Martians and Jovians.” They swap God for the Universe, redemption for evolution. “Dreary baggage” indeed!

Because much science fiction is built on “naturalism” — a denial of a “supernatural order” — the appeal to morality lacks bite. Morality grounded in naturalism, i.e., societal mores, tribal regulation, individual preference, etc., is not nearly as compelling as morality grounded in a “supernatural order.” This is why, it seems, ghost stories ARE superior to science fiction for exploring moral issues.

Ghost stories appeal to a supernatural order.
Science fiction stories appeal to a natural order.

Morality grounded in the Absolute (a supernatural order) is far more compelling than morality grounded (?) in the transient. But for the naturalist, because there is no absolute supernatural order, morals can only be transient. Relativistic flotsam is all the atheist can really offer.

Of course, this is not to suggest that the humanistic science fiction author cannot write from a “supernaturalist” frame of reference, but that they cannot do so without “defying their own inductive and mechanistic premises.” The horrorist needn’t make any such leap. A moral supernatural order is intrinsic to the ghost story. We enter such a tale with the cargo of Good and Evil. For the naturalist, however, Hell is a superstition. As is a supernatural moral order. Let them deify “Martians and Jovians” all they like. In the naturalistic Universe, appealing to ultimate Good or Evil is unnecessary. And irrational. But such is “the dreary baggage” of twenty-first-century naturalism.

Of course, there is much great science fiction out there which grapples effectively with moral issues. What should be noted is that in most cases, the books that do this assume a world where morals actually matter and are not just products of matter.

“Clean Fiction” as Evangelical White Magic

[image error]Evangelical readers’ objection to fictional magic — i.e., Harry Potter-like spells and witchery — is far less evil than the actual incantations and “spiritual formulas” wielded by many believers. At least, that’s the going thesis in E. Stephen Burnett’s article, Six Christian White Magic Spells Worse Than Fantasy Magic. What are those “magic spells” evangelicals naively employ? According to Burnett, they are:

‘Health and wealth’ prosperity spells
Magic circles, symbols, and verse spells
Personal guidance divination spells
Sorcerous ‘spiritual warfare’ spells
Romance prosperity gospel spells
‘If only’: prayer and program spells

Burnett concludes:

The fact is, God never establishes a magic system.

God never promised us that if we do X, we’ll achieve some reward—health or wealth, protection from evil influence, personal guidance, romance, or popularity in the world.

Instead He promises something better: Himself, with grace to meet every challenge.

It’s an important article, addressing a subject that every evangelical should consider. While I have a couple nits with the post, my main gripe is for what it does NOT include. So may I add a “seventh spell”?

7. ‘Clean media’ spells

What are “clean media spells”? They are practices that stem from the belief that G-rated, “family-friendly” content — films and fiction without sex, profanity, excessive violence, occult themes, etc. — is inherently “pure” (or, at least, purer than other fare), imparts a protective covering, cultivates holiness, does not morally corrupt, brings one closer to God (or, rather, keeps the devil and evil spirits away), and is ultimately “safer” than art with mature content.

While there’s much to commend such a stance, there’s also a great potential for “magic” in this thinking. The belief that reading THIS as opposed to THAT, reading THIS word as opposed to THAT word, including THIS description as opposed to THAT description, makes a story more or less worldly or other-worldly, holy or unholy, is patently mystical. Nevertheless, such a belief is foundational to contemporary evangelical fiction. It’s why even a cursory investigation into the genre will reveal one defining trademark — if Christian fiction is anything, it is “clean.”

At this stage, most Christians will take offense. And believe me, they do! For example, I was once accused of being on a “crusade” to include profanity in Christian fiction. In most instances, I’m inclined to give my opponents the benefit of the doubt, seeing that they’ve probably misunderstood my perspective. So let me quickly elaborate: There’s plenty of Scriptures that command Christians to think pure thoughts, meditate on what is good, and turn our eyes and ears away from evil, sensual, and blasphemous content. Furthermore, as a grandfather of (soon-to-be) nine [image error]grandchildren, I can attest to desiring media fare that does not require me to constantly monitor the kiddos. But is this a sufficient basis to conclude that reading profanity, or watching sex and/or violence onscreen is categorically evil?

How do you theologically justify watching only “clean media”?

Of course, the most compelling ground is that of “personal preference.” I mean, who can argue with that? So you don’t want to see filthy, violent images and hear people cuss? Fine. More power to you. Problem is when you seek to moor such preferences in a universal standard (for saints, that is), and conversely make them blanket condemnations against family “un-friendly” fare and label folks like me as enemies of all that is pure and good. But the truth is, when the question above is posed, such defenders typically have few hard and fast Scriptures to defend their position.

Philippians 4:8 is the most common proof-text for “clean fiction.”

Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise. (Phil. 4:8 NLT)

But if this verse is an argument in favor of reading only family-friendly fare, then someone should tell the authors of Scripture. The Bible contains scenes of gore, torment, sodomy, rape, incest, adultery, destruction, demons, plagues, catastrophe, divine judgment and eternal anguish. The reader who wants to think only on what is “right and pure” may want to avoid such biblical stories as the Fall of Man (Gen. 3), Noah’s Flood (Gen. 7), David’s adultery with Bathsheba (II Sam. 11), Lot offering his daughters to be raped (Gen. 19:4-8), the Slaughter of the Firstborn (Ex. 11), 42 kids are mauled by a bear after calling Elisha a name (II Kings 2:23-24), the Destruction of Sodom (Gen. 19), the Great White Throne Judgment (Rev. 20), the Crucifixion of Christ, etc., etc.  In fact, it could be argued that thinking about what is “true” means confronting such troubling tales without flinching. Of course, disseminating such biblical fare to the less mature can be touchy. But the fact that these stories are included in God’s Holy Word leads me to believe that knee-jerk reactions against ANY story involving rape, adultery, decapitations, and judgment via she-bear should be avoided.

You see, the only way the “clean fiction” argument works is if it appeals to white magic.

For example, defining “clean fiction” as “profanity free” fiction invests words with a sort of magical power. We see the correct combination of words, or the exclusion of specific words, as possessing an inherent power for good or evil. Not hearing/reading a certain word is good. Hearing/ reading / speaking a certain word is bad. Which makes R-rated stuff inherently bad. As such, Christian fiction is like “white magic” that counters the spell of secular fiction, which is “black magic.” Which is why I want to suggest that, consuming only “clean media” can be an evangelical divination method.

Here’s the problem: Cuss words don’t have magical powers.

The belief that keeping THAT word out of my story makes it intrinsically less worldly and more holy, is akin to white magic. It’s not much different from the sorceress who believes that uttering THIS word invokes THAT power and refraining from speaking THAT word leads to THIS blessing. Like the sons of Sceva, itinerant Jewish exorcists, who believed that the name “Jesus” was a magic wand to wave over the bedeviled (Acts 19:11-20), we “sanctify” our stories by adding or subtracting words to up the holiness quotient. The same is true of images or rituals depicted in film. Unless we want to argue that the human body is inherently sinful and that glimpsing naked actors or actresses is ALWAYS wrong under EVERY circumstance (which some definitely do!), we must allow for discernment, artistic license, and personal preference. Of course, lusting is a sin. But unless the naked body has a power to magically corrupt all who glimpse it, we must allow a bit of jiggle room.

There is a legitimate biblical basis for avoiding crap, and taking heed to what we read, listen to, and view. But just because someone reads Christian fiction, watches only “family friendly” films, or doesn’t curse, does not automatically make them any more holy, healthy, or happy than someone who doesn’t. In fact, the Bible warns that there may be a subtle danger in consigning ourselves only to what is “clean” (see: Pharisees).

In other words, reading “clean fiction” does not cast a protective spell over ones mind and heart. You still need discernment! In fact, the notion that “clean fiction” is actually safer and better for us  might actually deceive us and distance us from God!

The desire to keep our minds focused on what is “true, and honorable, and right, and pure” is a great thing. Heck, it’s biblical! Nevertheless, that same Bible says that Satan disguises himself as an “angel of light” (II Cor. 11:14). In other words, Satan is more likely to deceive us with something that looks good (“clean”), than something that looks evil. Just because some stories are free of profanity, violence, and nudity, does not make them impervious to spiritual deception. In fact, the desire to read only what is “free of profanity, violence, and nudity” may itself be a spiritual deception.

And that’s the problem I have with the aforementioned article. Yes, there are many “magic spells” that evangelicals use. However, the “clean media spell” may be one of the most deceptive and pervasive. Burnett is right, “God never establishes a magic system.” So let’s not make one for how we approach art and entertainment either.

Novelist Tim Ward on Biblical Worldview in Fiction

Tim Ward is a Hugo Nominee, former Producer / Editor at Adventures in SciFi Publishing, and the author of several popular futuristic thrillers. His latest novel  Godsknife: Revolt, is an apocalyptic fantasy set in the rift between Iowa and the Abyss. Tim joins us today to contribute to our ongoing discussion about integrating a biblical worldview into our fiction.

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[image error]I’m about to publish my first novel that uses faith as a major theme. It also includes characters who sometimes swear and deal with other temptations like booze and sex. As a Christian, I am not ashamed, because I am not my characters. The dark moments in their lives are shown as tragic, without needing to point any fingers. Godsknife: Revolt is about loving people who suffer.

The first and best lesson that I learned about writing stories about non-Christians from a biblical worldview is that I don’t have to have a Savior to illustrate the trials of their heart. The closer my made-up worlds got to the Biblical view of Salvation, the harder it was not to have a literal Jesus. In The Magic of Discovering Empathy, I suggest that the way we create empathetic characters is by showing character’s trials. People want others to know how hard it has been to be them. You can write about characters who deal with issues without those issues having to be about salvation. If you don’t think this is Christian enough, think of it as showing characters who just want to be loved, and are doing what they can, but failing. We’re all that way, and we all have taken different paths.

For example, Mr. Mercedes by Stephen King has the most sympathetic serial killer I’ve ever read. I teared up at the incremental revelations about his family life. I came away from that book thinking, what if someone had shown him genuine love somewhere along the way? So thank you Stephen King for writing a powerfully Christian novel. Ha! Just kidding. But a Christian could have written that story. King wrote a book where the reader was driven to love; and if he can do it, why can’t people who have the Holy Spirit living in them?

Okay, so what if you want to do more than just write characters that readers should love? You can create new religions that represent the foundations of the religions we have—and stop there. For example, in Godsknife: Revolt, the world is ours, but with a totally different history—religion has been outlawed since the 8th century—and because it’s my world, we’ve also had World War III and don’t own North America, to name a few differences. The religions are broken into three categories, Makists, Chaosers and Ordites.

Makists put faith outside of themselves by following the Maker through trials.
Chaosers pursue Chaos as a means of personal evolution.
Ordites gain strength by fixing the damage Chaos has done on a world left abandoned by the Maker.

It’s fantasy, so Makists who pursue the Maker in faith (not in Jesus, or Jemus, or the 12 commandments—because 10 would be too close to the Bible). Makists have differing powers, from being able to use wind and a supernatural lung capacity, to healing, to just plain perseverance in the trials, and more as I show them.

The tagline is: An apocalyptic battle for godhood in the rift between Iowa and the Abyss. The Abyss is an idea that stems from Genesis 1, where before God the world was without form and void. In my book, beings from the Abyss found a way through the Void into our world. They were born of a race “without form” and thus are not comfortable in structure and certainly not under the thumb of anyone. Do you know anyone like that?

I also have a Chaos doctor who is like a father to my main female character. He’s an alcoholic who chooses the bottle one last time and loses his fiancé, another pov character, and part of his ability is to transport things from our realm into the Abyss. He uses this to whisk the alcohol from his system so that he thinks he can conquer his addiction’s downsides, but always fails under its influence. Sound like a real person with real, spiritual issues? Did I have to use Scripture to show that? No, I just showed him being someone who wants to be loved even if he doesn’t say it in so many words. I showed his justification for his failures, then when he fell on his face, showed him turning it around, and then showed him failing again, and so on.

So, in my books, I have characters who pursue resolution to the issues of their hearts in the ways that they’ve been taught. My female lead, Caroline, lost both of her parents, who were Makists. Caroline resents their faith because her mother was taken before Caroline was eighteen—how could the Maker do that?—and her father spent too much time on the road, even after that, evangelizing—how could the Maker motivate him to leave her alone so much?

Let me take a step back and analyze these areas of Caroline’s struggle. The focus is not on how closely I tie the Maker to the Biblical God. I expand a little more than just that He is omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient—again, of course I don’t want the reader’s Christian meter to alarm, so I don’t use those terms, but you don’t have to. Just show it. Get to the foundation of faith. People either trust in the Maker or they trust in themselves, and if they trust in themselves, they can do so either pursing Order or Chaos. Thus, my book examines these pursuits without needing the details of Scripture.

So, this story has Caroline encountering trials with backstory knowledge of people who chose faith in the Maker. She will examine why her parents had faith. She will examine if she can, too, if that would make them proud—which goes back to a base instinct and draws the reader in with empathy—and then when the crap hits the fan, she will need to decide what she believes, not based on what makes her parents proud, but what she sees as real, as powerful and as trustworthy.

This story illustrates a biblical worldview without pointing to the Bible because all I’m doing with Caroline’s character is seeing if she’ll chose faith. For me, “faith” has an iceberg depth of meaning and syntax, which readers can share if they believe as I do, or if they hold to the cursive gold necklace “Faith” that is grounded in nothing but cheap jewelry. The former and the later can read my story and root for Caroline to be happy, for her to find success, and for the support system she chooses to hold her up.

One reason why non-believers don’t read the Bible is because they know how it ends. I wrote Godsknife: Revolt with enough twists and floor drops that readers will have no clue who will win.

What if her non-Makist support system fails her? What if she chooses the Maker and things don’t work out for her? Do either one make this book more or less “Christian?” Go back to my point about God’s promises to those whom He has called. Nothing can separate us from His love, but there is no promise that between justification and glorification we won’t have moments that look to outsiders as though God isn’t in control.

*Side note: In Godsknife, people who touch special sigils can leap through time and place blindly, under the power of Justification, so that if one trip takes them to a better time or place, the next could be much worse.

Finally, Christians, or characters like them, don’t have to win. I firmly believe that I can maintain the interest of non-Christian readers and their empathy for my “Christian” characters by proving to them in an equal try-fail cycle for all of my characters that anyone could ultimately land on the X that means their death or suffering. So instead of worrying about proving one side right, show your characters strengths and weaknesses. Show them trying and in doing so you show them why the character should be loved. Then show them failing, and don’t be obvious on which side you’re choosing by keeping the levels of high and low within a median range for each character. Do this, and you can have someone meet Jesus and I believe it’ll still be read with interest by believers and non-believers alike.

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Godsknife: Revolt is now available. You can also subscribe to Tim’s newsletter and email him at tim@timothycward.com.

Goodreads Giveaway: Saint Death

[image error]Giving away three autographed copies of “Saint Death” at Goodreads. Enter HERE.

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Reagan Moon didn’t plan on being an earth guardian.

He was your average paranormal reporter…until 1,000 volts of raw electricity fused an ancient relic into his sternum. It left him with Powers and lets him do things most humans can’t. There’s others like him, seven of them to be exact. They call themselves the Imperia and are charged with keeping earth from going down the toilet. This usually involves fighting monsters, tweaking the laws of physics, and keeping lots of booze and bandages on hand.

But when Saint Death comes knocking, no amount of holy water and hand grenades can slow her roll.

She’s the queenpin of the Santa Muerte pantheon. The folk religion’s central deity often appeared as a Virgin or a bride. Some called her the Grim Reapress. But mostly she was known as Saint Death. Now she’s got a companion. With the help of the Summu Nura, a Neuro priestess has rediscovered the Grimoire of Azrael, the Archangel of Death. And the Tenth Plague is about to be unleashed upon Los Angeles. Apparently, only Moon and his weathered compatriots can prevent the angel’s arrival. Yet earth guardians aren’t indestructible…as Saint Death is about to prove.

Myth and history collide in the second installment of what Publishers Weekly called “one of the best indie novels of 2015.

Pete’s Dragon & Evil Archetypes

[image error]A while back, I posited that traditional archetypes should be fair game for religious authors to tinker with, subvert, and even transform. Like vampires. In my article, The Good Vampire, one commenter expressed the misgivings of the evangelical community in general when she wrote:

“My biggest nit with reclaiming vampires is that traditionally, they have stood with witches, black dwarves, orcs, dragons, etc. Vampires as sympathetic figures is a 21st century twist. Its presence in children’s lit (and it’s BIG) means setting common morality on its head–screws knight vs. dragon for knight and dragon BFF. This leaves huge marks on kids’ ever-evolving moral education. Subtly and by implication only, they’re taught that ‘bad’ and ‘good’ have permanent quotation marks.”

If you know anything about evangelical readers, this opinion should not surprise you. Certain tropes must remain symbols for evil. Vampires are obviously one of them.

As are dragons.

According to the writer above, if we suddenly go making dragons “good,” then we go about “setting common morality on its head,” which in turn “leaves huge marks on kids’ ever-evolving moral education.”

This is one reason why the early praise for Pete’s Dragon among Christian reviewers has been… surprising. Christianity Today calls the film “an uplifting tearjerker, [which is] deserving of your box-office dollars.” Focus on the Family’s Plugged In gives it 4 and 1/2 out of 5 stars. Apparently, they did not get the memo that creating “good dragons” turns “common morality on its head.” Either that, or the views expressed by the commenter above are indeed waning.

So does that mean evangelical readers are now ready for good vampires, good Klingon, good goblin, or good ghost?

Part of discerning good from evil is separating stereotypes from actual actions or intent. Jesus told the story of the Good Samaritan, which flipped a common stereotype on its noodle. You see, to the people whom Jesus spoke, “Samaritan” meant one thing — bad guy. So obviously, part of His point was to challenge stereotypes and strip them of their inherent evil-ness. It’s worth asking, as I have elsewhere, whether or not the truth of the Good Samaritan can be retained while swapping out the stereotype. In this sense, the Good Samaritan might as well be a vehicle for flipping all kinds of images and models. Including, in a sense, dragons. After all, if the “good” part of the Good Samaritan is in his actions, rather than his reputation, then the most important part of “moral education” is not in simply rattling off a list of evil archetypes, but in discerning actions and intent. In other words, bad guys don’t always wear black hats and good guys don’t always wear white hats. Teaching children (or anyone) to look for “black hats” rather than “black hearts” is to ignore the nature of good and evil.

Which is why we need discernment rather than archetypal placeholders.

Portraying Santa Muerte in “Saint Death”

[image error]I received a nice review of Saint Death over at the Black Gate (HERE). The reviewer mentioned something that I thought worth addressing — my depiction of Santa Muerte in the novel.

Some might find Mike Duran’s handling of the Santa Muerte folk religion troubling. Since in his book it’s used as a front for summoning the archangel of death, he tends to play up the darker aspects, such as its association with drug dealers and criminals. This is not at all an even-handed approach, or an attempt to treat the religion fairly. But focusing on the darker aspects of religion has long been a useful tool for horror writers.

The reviewer is correct in that I used the religion “as a front,” fictionally speaking. But did I not offer “an even-handed approach” or “attempt to treat the religion fairly”?

Here’s my intro to Santa Muerte in the first chapter, spoken through the POV of Reagan Moon:

I’d seen them before, shrines like this. Usually they were accompanied by murder and mayhem. The Santa Muerte religion had been migrating from Mexico into the southland for the last half century bringing with it a toxic mix of old world esoterica, spiritualism, and crime. Its central deity was sometimes displayed as a Virgin, a bride, or a queen. Some called her the Grim Reapress, others the Bony Lady.

But mostly she was known as Saint Death.

Over time, she’d become the patron saint of drug lords and hit men; the Mexican cartel had adopted her as their own, splaying untold victims upon her altars. Saint Death’s protection and blessings were routinely sought, as was her vengeance. Whether one was seeking to guarantee safe passage of a drug shipment, smite a foe with the necrotizing fasciitis, or be protected from such curses, Saint Death was all ears.

Is this a fair summary? I think so. You see, the “darker aspects” of Santa Muerte are some of its primary attractions. For example, this Time photo essay is subtitled Mexico’s Cult of Holy Death. The folk religion is viewed as a “cult” for several reasons. As this National Geographic article notes, before its more recent mainstream appeal, Santa Muerte was “initially popular among people living in the underworld or on the fringes of society.” The religion’s connection to “underworld” elements, namely drug cartels, fueled Santa Muerte’s popularity. Finally, there was a “saint” for the marginalized, one that could both take vengeance and protect against vengeance-seekers. This Huffington Post article notes that “the very origins of the cult are tied to crime.” An article entitled Folk Saint Santa Muerte is Alive and Well in L.A. — Death, Devotion, and the DEA cites the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit in describing Santa Muerte as a “new age Grim Reaper-type goddess, a bad-girl counterpart to the Virgin of Guadalupe.” Though the religion’s devotees are particularly growing among disenfranchised and/or disillusioned Catholics, it is narcocultura that fuels its spread.

Still, the strongest contributing factor to the stigma against the folk saint is her constant association with drug traffickers and the dark spirituality of narcocultura, or drug culture. With the high stakes of the drug trade, the offerings by cartel members to Santa Muerte can surpass the normal tokens of food and drink, and dip into the realm of human sacrifice.

[image error]It was this reality that sparked my interest in the religion. For one thing, this was happening next door to me! Stories about Santa Muerte related crimes began showing up. Like the discovery of human remains inside a residential altar in Pasadena, which immediately solicited question about Santa Muerte. Or in Oxnard where authorities discovered a human skull and jawbone, along with a discarded Santa Muerte altar. Then there were incidents of actual human sacrifice to the Saint of Death. It was reported that more L.A. prison inmates were sporting Santa Muerte tattoos and that Santa Muerte was gaining a following among major criminal organizations. It’s even led to L.A.’s DEA division creating a number of continuing education classes which focus upon the religion.

“Here in L.A. you become very much aware of it as soon as you start working in investigations,” says Sarah Pullen, Public Information Officer for the Los Angeles DEA division. “Investigators know about it, and it’s covered in a number of continuing education classes.”

Despite the growth and popularity of the folk religion, the Catholic Church has officially not recognized Santa Muerte with legitimacy. On May 8, a high-ranking Vatican official made what amounts to the Catholic Church’s first public statement regarding the cult.

“It’s not religion just because it’s dressed up like religion; it’s a blasphemy against religion,” said Cardinal Gianfranco Ravasi, president of the Vatican’s Pontifical Council for Culture.

It isn’t the Vatican’s habit to give its opinion on every passing cult that flashes across the horizon, but the Santa Muerte is special.[image error]

Of course, there are many who embrace the religion with less nefarious intent. Which is why the Catholic Church has tread lightly on harsh denunciations. Nevertheless, it is the darker side which remains the draw for many. This blending of religious devotion and malignant intent is what drew my attention to the religion. It also led me to visit the Holy Death Temple in Los Angeles, and several botanicas which cater to devotees. (The pictures in this post are mine, and were taken from our visit in early 2016.) It was a fascinating, if not chilling, immersion into a bizarre culture where spells and candles could be purchased and set at the feet of the Bony Lady. Creepy.

So while the reviewer is correct that I used the religion “as a front,” a springboard, it is the realworld weirdness that brought this to life. Which is why in my synop I describe the tale as a collision of “myth and history.” But ultimately, it the words of my antagonist in the story, Etherea, that summarize much of my thinking about religion in general.

“It’s just a conduit, you know. Santa Muerte. Just about any religion will do. Only this one has already blazed a trail into the dark. Human sacrifices. Canticles of vengeance. Yeah, they ain’t fooling around, are they? Not perfect, but it’ll do. Most religions are like that—flimsy vessels for something much more pure. And primal. Besides, I have a thing for skulls and glitter.”

So, yeah, maybe it’s not an “even-handed approach, or an attempt to treat the religion fairly.” It’s sensationalized. It’s squeezed. It’s fiction. But in the case of Santa Muerte, you have to wonder if the truth isn’t stranger than fiction.

The Future of Realm Makers: A Conference Divided Between Markets

So much great conversation has ensued following Realm Makers 2016. One person I’ve really enjoyed chatting with about RM, the Christian speculative community, and related publishing trends, is author and founder of Uncommon Universes Press, Janeen Ippolito. Janeen had some interesting (and I think, important) observations about the conference and where the Christian spec community could be headed.  So I invited her to share some of her thoughts…

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[image error]I’m honored that Mike opted to share his platform so I could do a little brainstorming on a topic close to my heart: growth. I’m all about the growth, whether it be in faith, in education, in understanding, or in profit (dare to dream). As an entrepreneur married to an entrepreneur, growth is a buzzword in our conversations about new ventures.

Is this project growing?
Has that endeavor increased in reach and marketability?
What about this venture? Is it moving forward or stagnating?

I’m not here to talk deep theology. While I have a degree from a Christian college, my specialty was informational writing, anthropology, communication, and education. Basically, learning about people/cultures and how to communicate with and educate them. Needless to say, as I’ve dived into studying business/marketing over the years, I’ve found quite a few overlaps and connections.

Crossover appeal is what I’m here to talk about. Specifically, the future of a unique conference like Realm Makers when sandwiched between two major markets: CBA and ABA.

First off, major applause to the organizers and supporters of Realm Makers who have given their all to see this tiny but mighty conference grow over the years. They have the guts and drive to do the impossible, and that deserves a ton of respect and commendation. Every year, the conference improves, and every year, the masterminds behind the conference express their willingness and openness to see this niche market of Christian speculative fiction grow and expand.

Bravo for all the hard work!

Now for the less fun part: how is this thing, this peculiar bunch of faith-based speculative fiction fans (or junkies, as Mike says) going to grow? The conference is a flourishing plant, breaking through some hard soil, but it’s about to hit two big rocks:

The larger Christian market, which will still require a lot of education to understand the place of speculative fiction in their worldview
The general market, which is hit or miss at best for indies and already has plenty of their own conferences and conventions to attend anyway

[image error]There are people who declare that the up and coming geeky generation of Christians will push the tide of Christian fiction towards the speculative. That each year, the market is growing, regardless of what the CBA says. This could be true. Certainly the general trend towards speculative fiction in culture hasn’t died off the way people said it would. But with this understanding, Realm Makers will continue to serve an exclusively Christian speculative fiction market, perhaps creating its own prosperous bubble right next to ACFW. Speculative fiction by Christians and for Christians.

Is this the endgame? To became the newest, strongest flavor of fiction on the Christian shelf of the bookstore or in the Christian category online?

Another view promotes ‘crossover writing’ with Christians writing for the general market. This is where things get complicated. First of all, my personal opinion is that many Christians aren’t comfortable enough to write for the general market, where story trumps theological ‘rightness.’ There are underlying tropes, concepts, and ideas within that subculture that people from a Christian subculture won’t necessarily get or even understand how to include.

Realm Makers included sessions on the Crossover Novelist, which brings up whether the conference is considering this market as well. Are attendees from other faith or lack-of-faith backgrounds considered part of the target market? Should they be? Or is Realm Makers trying to be a sort of training ground for Christians seeking to reach a general market audience? Should the purpose of this conference be two-fold? Can it be?

A Realm Makers crossover market appeal could follow a couple of schemes:

Making a Christian conference so good everyone will want a taste. The thing is, people in the general market come from a lot of backgrounds and are rather sensitive to being preached at, and it seems that many people treasure the strong faith aspect of Realm Makers. Could a ‘taste and see’ method work? Possibly. I’m never going to say never. But it would require a lot of focus in terms of building relationships as well as continuing to pursue excellence and quality in conference presentation.
Creating Realm Makers as a more theologically neutral safe space with buzzwords like ‘clean.’ Again, I’m not sure how viable this is. A lot of people know ‘clean’ is a buzzword for ‘a certain kind of morality’ which is fair since worldview will come through in writing no matter what. In trying to go ‘clean’ Realm Makers might just end up in a lukewarm place with zero audience.
Making Realm Makers an educational powerhouse where people are taught how to do excellent writing. Period. There would be the faith aspect, but there would also be a high level of faculty and content so that people might come, even a la carte, just to get solid instruction. This goal is harder than people think, because it has nothing to do with hitting every major point of whatever favorite theology someone holds to and nothing to do with long discussions about whether we really need magic. Instead, this type of track would have everything to do with teaching writers of all levels how to nail down an excellent speculative story. Not a “clean version of this author/genre” book that puts cleanliness up there with good editing, but a well-written story with great plotting, characterization, themes, and editing that is tight and genre-appropriate and reaches the target audience in a fresh and memorable way.[image error]

Do I have any answers for the Realm Makers conundrum? Not particularly. Ultimately, all of these decisions rely in the hands of the fearless, driven entrepreneurs who dared to ask ‘what if’ and then went ahead and did. And kept doing, sacrificing time, money, and sleep (ohhhh, sleep) in pursuit of making this Realm Makers thing happen. I applaud their efforts. And as someone whose eyes are always on the growth and who wants to see awesome endeavors leveled up, I’m hoping and praying the fearless leaders make wise decisions regarding the future of this quite particular little conference that could.

What about you? Any brainstorms about the place of Realm Makers?

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Janeen Ippolito is an idea-charged teacher, reader, author, and the Fearless Leader of Uncommon Universes Press. She writes nonfiction reference, including World-Building From the Inside Out and speculative fiction laced with everyday humor, horror, and cultural tensions. Her co-written illustrated novella, Thicker Than Water, releases on October 29th. Find her online at JaneenIppolito.com.

Christian Fiction & Biblical Worldview Stories are NOT Synonomous

One of the points I’d hoped to develop in my Realm Makers 2016 class, “A Theology of Speculative Fiction,” was the difference between biblical worldview stories and contemporary CBA Christian Fiction. Like much of that study, I didn’t have the time I hoped (my fault, not the organizers’) to address some important concepts. This was one of them.

[image error]Many Christians conflate biblical worldview stories with Christian fiction. In fact, I had a discussion with an industry professional at the conference who said just that: “Biblical worldview fiction is the same as Christian fiction.” I countered with one simple question: “So can biblical worldview stories contain profanity?” to which they replied, “Absolutely not!” Nevertheless, profanity and the people who use it exist within a biblical worldview. A monotheistic universe of Absolute Morals does not require the absence of profanity to exist. Just because someone cusses does NOT prevent a worldview from being biblical! But such is the murky theological roots of contemporary CBA fic.

In the chart on the left, biblical worldview stories are pictured as existing inside the blue pyramid. That pyramid could be divided into two halves, top to bottom, containing General and Special Revelation. General Revelation is “common grace,” described in Romans 1-3 as an intuitive awareness of God, His attributes, and the Moral structure of the universe. This “awareness” makes Man “without excuse” (Rom. 1:20). Special Revelation, however, is a more specific, refined, understanding of God and the Universe. It involves the revelation of Scripture, an awareness of our own guilt before God, a basic understanding of His plan of salvation, repentance, faith, etc. The idea being that Special Revelation builds upon General Revelation.

From my perspective, Christian writers should write across the spectrum. We should be appealing to General Revelation, sowing seeds into ground that the Holy Spirit is tilling, and providing glimpses of Special Revelation. Readers without an explicitly “Christian” worldview should be able to engage our stories and catch glimpses of the biblical scaffolding.

Whole bunches of things can exist inside biblical worldview stories — violence, sex, injustice, death, depravity, and, yes, cussing — just as they actually exist within our world (the reality Christians see as framed in Scripture). Many non-Christians hold to a biblical worldview. Whether it is from an upbringing under Judeo-Christian influence or just intuition, they believe in a God, an Afterlife, and an Absolute Morality by which they will be judged. However, holding to a biblical worldview does NOT prevent one from being immoral and ungodly. Heck, the devil adheres to a biblical worldview… and remains the devil! He believes in God and trembles. In this sense, a biblical worldview story can contain profanity because the real world, the biblical world, contains profanity, evil, and all manner of things we disapprove of. Cussing, killing, and adultery does not make a worldview any less “biblical.”

Christian Fiction, on the other hand, is framed by specific boundaries. While it exists within a biblical worldview, it only represents a cubicle within that world. Strictures such as no profanity, no graphic sex, no zombies, or explicit redemptive themes, are unique to the genre. They do not, however, necessarily frame a biblical worldview. CBA guidelines are far more evidence of a specific theology than they are necessarily representative of the larger biblical worldview. Much like a religious denomination emphasizes certain doctrinal distinctives (baptism, communion, eschatology, spiritual gifts, etc.) while sharing biblical “essentials” (see: Nicene Creed, Apostles Creed, etc.) with the larger Church, CBA fiction is more like a denomination within the larger Body of fiction writers / readers. It shares their worldview, but chooses to emphasize specific distinctives. So while all Christian Fiction should contain a biblical worldview, not all Biblical Worldview Fiction will be recognized as CBA-style Christian Fiction.

So that’s my going theory. I’d love your suggestions and input. Am I missing something here? Do you think Biblical worldview fiction is the same as Christian fiction? Or should we be careful not to conflate the two? Thanks for reading!