Mike Duran's Blog, page 86

Offended by the Obvious

Last week, Alabama Republican Governor Robert Bentley apologized for declaring in a speech that he only considers Christians to be his "brothers and sisters," and that those who know Jesus Christ are related to him in ways the general public is not.

The question I have is… are they?

It kind of cracks me up when people protest and condemn such remarks (which they did in this case), when, for the most part, this is what mainstream Christianity has historically believed. The children of God are a unique family and share Something that no other people on earth possess.

Scripture is pretty clear about this divide. For instance, the Apostle of Love (John) drew a line between two unique breeds of people, "the children of God" and "the children of the devil" (I Jn. 1:10). Jesus was no less definitive, saying that only those who "received him" were given the right "to become children of God" (John 1:12-13). It's pretty cut-and-dried.

Most other religions have similar divides between saints and sinners, the enlightened and the unenlightened, the initiates and the uninitiated, the insiders and the outsiders. Heck, even atheists believe some are "less evolved" (i.e., me) than others (i.e., other atheists). So those who take affront at such exclusionary language are either unaware of religion in general or Christianity in particular. Or just flat-out predisposed against a biblical worldview.

In other words, those who were offended with the governor's statements were probably not his brothers and sisters.

Listen, I'm not saying this to justify Bentley's statement. As a politician representing a large swath of faiths, persuasions, and ethnicities, such language can indeed appear inflammatory. The issue I'm addressing here is not whether making such declarations on a political stage is smart, but whether or not the offense is phony.

It's hypocritical for us to feign offense when a religion or religious person claims exclusivity. Why? Because that's what religions do. They believe certain unique things. And people who believe those things share a certain unique camaraderie. It's the same reason why world religions CANNOT coexist — their beliefs ultimately won't allow it.

Unless, of course, their beliefs aren't true.

Like it or not, someone, somewhere believes you are not "enlightened." Someone believes you are an "infidel," an "outcast," an "outsider," a "heathen," or a "heretic." Someone believes you are NOT part of their faith family. Republican Governor Robert Bentley proclaims that only Christians are his "brothers and sisters."

And if Scripture is to be believed, he's probably right.

However, more problematic than that someone could make such audacious claims is that, in stating the obvious, people get so darned offended.

Can Horror Fiction Be Redemptive? — Part 3

Perhaps the greatest argument that horror lit can contain redemptive elements is the Bible and its message about the sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

The apostle Paul summarized what transpired on the Cross this way:

For God made Christ, who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin, so that we could be made right with God through Christ. — II Corinthians 5:21 NLT

The crucifix symbol has been glamorized in our culture. Nevertheless, the Cross was a horror in its time. Many have illustrated the gruesome medical details concerning the practice of crucifixion (see: The Horror of Roman Crucifixion). While the Bible does not give us play by play description of the Christ's execution, in its time, it didn't need to. The first century Jew or Gentile needed no reminder of the grisly details.

Isaiah prophesied roughly 700 years before Christ about the Suffering Servant:

…his appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any human being

and his form marred beyond human likeness (Is. 52:14 NIV).

Some may see this description as gratuitous. Nevertheless, it corroborates much of what we know about Roman crucifixion and the beatings suffered by those at the centurion's hands. Indeed, it was reported that pre-crucifixion scourging was so brutal that many prisoners never made it to the cross.

In a more poetic stroke, the prophet writes

Surely he took up our pain

and bore our suffering,

yet we considered him punished by God,

stricken by him, and afflicted.

But he was pierced for our transgressions,

he was crushed for our iniquities;

the punishment that brought us peace was on him,

and by his wounds we are healed.

Isiah 53:4-5 NIV

This section of Scripture, while laden with redemptive pathos, is loaded with horrific imagery: pain, suffering, punishment, affliction. Those who object to horror lit strictly on the grounds that it is shocking, violent, and scandalous, should consider that The Most Redemptive Story Ever Told contains such imagery.

But perhaps the most horrific element of the crucifixion of Christ is not the physical torment inflicted, but the spiritual reality behind it. "Christ, who never sinned [became] the offering for our sin" (II Cor. 5:21). We take the concept of Man as Sinner for granted. However, Scripture portrays the Fall of Man as the greatest of all horrors. That beings created in the Image of God would turn from Him is more abominable than the entire history of slasher flicks combined. In fact, every atrocity, whether real or imagined, can only be understood in the light of our Fall (in the same way that horror must be defined by the good and beautiful). Adam and Eve being driven from Paradise is perhaps the genesis of all human horrors.

In this way, the atonement of Jesus Christ is horrific — not just because He "became sin" and submitted Himself to public torture, but that He was sinless when He did so. That which is Perfect voluntarily became what is Flawed. The Beloved became the Outcast. The Spotless Lamb became the Scapegoat.

It is the melding of horror and redemption, The Greatest Story Ever Told. And it is, in part, a horror story.

Giveaways & Takeaways

As a debut author, I've always heard and assumed that giving away lots of stuff generates buzz. You know, bookmarks, mugs, trinkets, and… books. Conventional wisdom says that a new author should do everything they can to get their name out there. And what better way to force people to look at you than to give them free stuff.

Lately, however, I've been bumping into some un-conventional wisdom.

For instance, Kiersten White, author of the NY Bestseller Paranormalcy, gives this advice in her post Recommendations for Debut Authors:

I got so many requests to send free things to people that I'm really glad I never got anything made.  The amount of time and effort it would have taken for me to mail things out, not to mention the cost of creating and mailing the materials, would have been ridiculous.  In the end I figured no one was going to buy my book because they won a free bookmark.  Having an "I don't send anything out for any contests, ever" policy was one of the best choices I made. (emphasis mine)

Hey, I've entered my share of contests. Even won a couple. I've also staged a few on this site and elsewhere. (And, for the record, will continue to do so.) However, some of the advice I've received lately has forced me to rethink… The Biggest Book Giveaway in Web History.

From the consumer's angle, knowing that an author (or publisher, as the case may be) is kind (or smart) enough to give stuff away, scores brownie points. But what is the ultimate takeaway… other than the product being raffled?

Of course, that may be the point. Giveaways get your product into people's hands. And if some of those winners turn into "influencers" or "buyers," then the freebie has done its job. However, that metamorphosis must occur. Giveaways work when they turn a "contest winner" into an actual "consumer." But in the long run, there's really only one thing that will do that.

A good book.

As Kiersten concludes,

In the end, it's word of mouth that sells books.  So you want to get as many mouths talking about your book as you can.  And really, the best thing you can do for your career?  Be working on your next book.

Funny, but my agent said the same thing.

So do contests and book giveaways really generate buzz for an author? Or is there more giveaway than takeaway?

Christian Fiction: What's Our Mission?

Mission statements are essential to businesses and ministries. A good mission statement can:

Articulate goals
Define organizational identity
Guide strategy and decision-making
Provide a template for critique and evaluation
Be easily memorized and reproduced

Question: Does the Christian publishing industry have a mission statement?

I realize, in asking that question, that the Christian publishing industry is not monolithic. Nevertheless, in perusing the mission statements of Christian fiction publishers, certain concepts and aims appear consistently. They look something like this:

To provide high quality, affordable, inspirational Christian fiction.
To provide a safe, uplifting alternative for the entire family.
To promote God-honoring, Christ-exalting fiction from a biblical worldview.

Those are all great aims. However, they are pretty generic (a problem with almost all mission statements). But, even more importantly, at the grassroots level they don't seem to be "sticking."

I recently asked this simple question on Facebook:

The single most defining characteristic of Christian fiction should be… what?

The comments were varied. Here's a sampling of what some readers see as the defining characteristic of Christian fiction:

"Glorifying God and enjoying him" — Stephen
"Redemption" — Tim
"Quality" — Dave
"Transformation" — Susan
"Truth" — Evan
"A message of hope" — Mike
"Worldview" — Cathi, "Worldview characters" — Frank
"Christian fiction would have to be about Christ in some way" — Susan

Once again, these are all great answers. But the diversity of opinions illustrates how imprecise the label "Christian fiction" really is. Is it about hope or truth or redemption, or can it be just plain good? Is it aimed at encouraging, inspiring, convicting, proselytizing, or just entertaining? Or can Christian fiction do all of the above?

My point here is not to rehash what is or isn't wrong with Christian publishing, but to just make a simple observation. The diversity of opinions about what Christian fiction is or should be is indicative of a potential philosophical problem.

I was recently interviewed for a website and was asked what changes I would make with the Christian publishing industry (loaded question, huh?). I answered thus:

…we need some Christian crossover imprints, titles that are aimed at seekers rather than believers. In my opinion, this is a fundamental philosophical flaw in Christian publishing. If Christians are about spreading the Good News then we are shooting ourselves in the foot by just aiming at existing believers. The Church needs two wings: a discipling wing and an evangelism wing. I think the same is true of the Christian publishing industry.

Where are our literary missionaries?

As you can see, one of my issues with our "mission"always comes back to aim: Who should Christian publishers be aiming at? Perhaps, to you, that question is too obvious — "Christian publishers need to aim at Christians, you dummy!" However, to me, that's like saying Christian churches should only aim at the saved. Without outreach, apologetics, assimilation, and evangelism 101, churches become ingrown, stagnant, and out of touch with culture.

Suggestion: Maybe it's time to broaden our mission statement.

Anyway, I'm interested: Do you think Christian publishers should aim at seekers and those outside our market?If so, what might that type of fiction look like? Or is it wiser, for business and ministry, to aim exclusively at believers? And if you had to write a new "mission statement" for the Christian fiction industry, what would it be?

What's Your Wilderness?

"It is doubtful that God can use a man greatly until He hurts him deeply." — A.W. Tozer

Stieg Larsson's Millenium trilogy has sold more than 20 million copies in 41 countries (as of spring of 2010).  The Swedish writer and journalist died suddenly of a heart attack in November 2004. The novels were published posthumously to critical and commercial success, making Larsson the second bestselling author in the world 2008.

And he didn't live to see any of it.

There is something bittersweet in this that every writer will understand. It's called "paying our dues" or "working in obscurity. " And there's no guarantee we will ever transcend that state. Nevertheless, it is a path that most "successful" artists must follow.

The actress spends years on the small stage, in auditions, and low-budget TV commercials.
The musician plays one seedy club after another, hauling equipment in the back of an aging cargo van, wishing his wife good night from a pay phone.
The athlete labors in a foreign country and in D leagues, while scouts ignore him and teams swap his rights like worthless trading cards.

Sure, there's many success stories. After years of silent struggle the actress lands a leading role, the musician signs with a label, and the athlete gets called up to the big league. However, like Stiegg Larsson, many artists never live to see the fruit of their labors. We die in the D league: unpublished, unknown, obscure, a John Doe in the Library of Congress. Nevertheless, we continue the trek, hoping one day to crest our final sand dune.

Like Moses.

Moses is typically viewed as Israel's greatest prophet, a white-haired, fiery-eyed, oracle who spoke face to face with the Almighty. But before he ever achieved that status, he had to be broken. Moses' ministry could be divided into three 40 year increments. The first 40 and the last 40 are the ones we remember. The middle 40, not so much. You see, the middle 40 Moses spent as a shepherd in the wilderness of Midian. A shepherd. Pretty unglamorous, huh?  Wool. Dung. And lots of bleating. Yet some suggest that it was Moses' 40 years as a shepherd under the shadow of Mount Horeb that prepared him to lead God's people. It was the solitude, the obscurity — the breaking — that prepared Moses for greater responsibility, for the next stage in his manhood and ministry.

Likewise, your wildernesses prepares you for increased responsibility and/or success. Notice, I didn't say your wilderness was guarantee of a Promised Land. Because it's not. Just ask Stieg Larsson. What the wilderness does is to humble us, temper our aspirations, give us a deeper appreciation for hard work, and a measured rest in success.

While perseverance is essential to being a writer, being broken is essential to being a human.

I was thinking about this when my agent, Rachelle Gardner, recently announced she was representing T. Anne Adams. I follow Anne on Twitter and Facebook, and really like her panache. When Anne announced representation and shared her journey, I couldn't help but like her more. The years of struggle. The fits and starts. The determination, the frustration, the despair. Her path to representation was not unlike a wilderness trek. And, in truth, all she's done is crested another sand dune.

But for every Anne, there's 100 authors you've never heard of… and probably never will.

After I left the ministry (in '97), I wandered. I had no writing aspirations and had never studied the craft. I went back into construction feeling confused, defeated, and rudderless. No, I wasn't there for 40 years like Moses, but it sure felt like it. How vividly I remember working the graveyard shift and sitting in gridlock, time and again, crying out to God (and often crying) for something more.

But all I got was another sand dune.

So last week I received an advance copy of my debut novel. Surreal. And bittersweet. I didn't hoot and holler. I didn't bawl. I was numb. You see, I couldn't help but remember what had come before, living under the shadow of Mount Horeb, listening to the wind moan across the vast dry horizon. Feeling like a failure. Sleeping at noon behind foil-covered windows. Sitting in gridlock.  Wondering. Second-guessing. Feeling utterly alone.

Maybe that's one reason why holding the book was so humbling. It made me remember the breaking.

Some of you want to be here, where I am or T. Anne Adams is. Instead, you are in Midian. You and your stinky flock. Your "rejection slips" folder is full. You've read the how-to books and re-worked your novel to the point of exhaustion. You've followed the rules and the editorial advice. You've attended conferences and networked. You've labored in obscurity. Yet you surmount today's hill only to meet another sand dune. And there is no guarantee you will ever reach the Promised Land of publishing.

That, my friend, is where you will find yourself.

* * *

So what's your wilderness?

 

What's the Most Unfair Caricature of Christians?

It's been said, "Most people don't reject Christ, but a caricature." From my perspective, the same can be said about Christians. There are a lot of caricatures of Christianity that have gained traction in the media and culture. What do you think are some of the most prominent and misguided caricatures of Christians? Choose two of the selections below.

View Poll

 

What's Your "Mystery" Threshold?

Science operates under the assumption that everything can be understood. From human nature to the migratory patterns of birds, the cosmos can all be distilled down to a formula, equation, series of chemical reactions or causes and effects. I don't prescribe to such a philosophy. Some things will — and should — remain a mystery.

But if life is full of grays, why do we expect our art to be so black and white?

I recall a conversation with a friend about the film No Country for Old Men. The movie ends abruptly and without real resolution. I loved the ambiguity and felt like it served the material, while my friend hated it for the exact same reason. "The good guy doesn't win or lose," he said. "The bad guy doesn't lose or win. And the last scene makes you wonder if the projectionist fell asleep."

That day, I came to the conclusion that I have a high threshold for mystery.

David Taylor, on his wonderful blog Diary of an Arts Pastor, in a recent post regarding, among other things, Sophia Coppola's films, wrote this:

Art has long been a way for people to make sense of their lives. From Sophocles' dramas to the tales of the Brontë sisters, art is a gift that God has given us to understand obliquely the many non-straightforward parts of our lives.  (emphasis added)

I love that idea that art helps us "understand obliquely the many non-straightforward parts of our lives." Webster defines "oblique" this way:

a : not straightforward : indirect; also : obscure

So art provides a "not straightforward" understanding to the "non-straightforward parts of our lives." Films and books flesh out what is intangible, "indirectly." They hold up a "dim mirror" (I Cor. 13:12) to a very foggy world. However, the "understanding" they evoke is often in proportion to their "obliqueness." It is the "out of the corner of your eye" vibe as much as the "in your face" punch that causes a good film or book to leave a lasting mark.

Ending a story ambiguously is not automatically good art. Nevertheless, this much is true: non-oblique art (i.e., straight-forward, didactic, preachy art) can't niggle into our psyche the way a more "obscure" piece can. Such art is not nuanced enough to summon our deeper cognitive abilities, only galvanize our emotions. Propaganda posters may have stirred the Party spirit, but they are hardly worthy of long-term contemplation.

The apostle Paul "was caught up to paradise [and] heard inexpressible things, things that man is not permitted to tell" (II Cor. 12:4 NIV). Perhaps part of God's "revelation" to man is to disclose how much he actually doesn't know. So great is "paradise" that the writer of 2/3 of the New Testament, upon seeing it, was suddenly without words. I guess that's one way to shut up a writer.

Putting words where none will suffice is not only potentially blasphemous, it is bad art.

That's why message-driven art is so dangerous: Not only does it trivialize Mystery, it attempts to codify non-linear elements of our lives. We systematize the Ineffable until it is little more than a splayed toad in biology class, organs nicely labeled.

In life, good guys don't always win, bad guys don't always ride black horses, and stories don't always end tidily. So why do we demand it of our art?

 

 

Write. Pray. Medicate.

WARNING: What follows is embarrassing, brutally honest, and best read only by those who enjoy soap operas or train wrecks.

* * *

Last summer (2010), I began experiencing some weird medical problems. I am not a hypochondriac and, on average, see the doctor about once or twice a year. That changed in 2010. I began experiencing severe dizzy spells. Debilitating, occasionally. Sometime after that, it was compounded by tingling and numbness in my hands and feet. Eventually, my entire body. The crown jewel was a visit to Urgent Care one afternoon where I was promptly given a sedative and exhorted to pay attention to my health.

What followed were batteries of tests. Bloodwork, MRI, brain scan, etc.  During the process, I've seen a neurologist, audiologist, and a dietitian. Along with my regular doctor.  After these tests had rolled in, accompanied by significant head-scratching on the part of the professionals, my doctor asked:

Mr. Duran, is there anything that has changed this year in your life? Your diet? Your work? Your living arrangements? Your schedule? Your routine? Anything that may have triggered this?

And then it hit me.

I said, Doc, I am a writer. I have been contracted for two books, one which I am currently attempting to finish. I work 40 hours a week outside my home. I wake up at 3-4 AM every morning and write until I leave for work at 6:30 AM. When I get home at 6 PM, I check emails, mumble at my wife, and attempt to resume writing. You might also want to know that I am obsessive compulsive, an insomniac, a perfectionist, and I feel guilty when I relax.

I didn't confess that I am also… a blogger.

He leaned back from his computer and squinted. Mr. Duran, stress does strange things to people.

Stress.

OK. So something has to give. Call it a New Year's resolution if you want. But it's more than that. This is about lifestyle adjustments and staying out of Urgent Care. This is about juggling two careers without dying. This is about smelling the roses before I'm pushing up daisies.

I HEARBY:

Give myself permission to miss a day blogging
Give myself permission to not answer email
Give myself permission to write something half-ass
Give myself permission to lie on the couch and watch TV instead of write
Give myself permission to read whatever I want
Give myself permission to turn down writing and promotional opportunities
Give myself permission to embarrass myself and be brutally honest whenever I need to

There — I feel a lot better.

Should I Tiptoe Around the "Christian Fiction" Label?

I was recently asked by an acquaintance if The Resurrection is "Christian Fiction." I've been gearing up for that question and, as the book nears release, expect to get it more. My answer went thus:

"It depends on what you mean by Christian fiction."

Some authors and readers may cheer that response. Others may question my hesitancy to just own up to the label. Still others might flat-out charge me with denying the Lord. Nevertheless, I believe that nuance is important.

By "Christian fiction" if someone means, "Are there faith elements in your story?" the answer is a resounding "Yes." But if by "Christian fiction" they mean, "Is this cheesy, preachy, predictable, sanitized stuff aimed exclusively at Christians and narrow-minded cultural conservatives?," then the answer is a resounding "No." Sadly, however, that is the caricature that our culture conceives when most anything is touted as "Christian."

Whether right or wrong, "Christian fiction" has become a polarizing term.

Which is why I think I should ditch it. Or dance around it.

I want people who avoid the "Christian fiction" label to read the book.
I want people who enjoy the "Christian fiction" label to read the book.

And I think both can. Is this unrealistic? Am I walking too fine a line here? Am I trying to have my cake and eat it too? Is this just a refusal to recognize my market, or a legitimate attempt to cross over? Or am I half-baked?

What do you think? Should I embrace the "Christian fiction" label and everything — good and bad — it potentially conjures, or should I try to "play the middle"?