Sarahbeth Caplin's Blog, page 52

When Christians suck at loving people (because sometimes we do that)

I’ll say this much about Facebook: if I ever canceled my account one day, I’d be missing out on 80% of blogging inspiration. I’m a stay-at-home writer with two adorable kittens who are growing up too fast for my liking, so I don’t overhear interesting public conversations nearly as often as I creep them on social media.

That being said, here’s a post that was shared from preacher Ray Comfort:

When Homosexual actor and author, Stephen Fry was recently asked what he would say to God if he faces Him after death, his answer was, “I’d say, bone cancer in children? What’s that about? How dare you? How dare you create a world to which there is such misery that is not our fault. It’s not right, it’s utterly, utterly evil.”

Let’s help this atheist bolster his case against God, by broadening his argument a little. It’s not only bone cancer that kills children. They also get brain, blood, and lung cancer, suffocate from asthma, die from Ebola and of heart problems. Millions of children have also died of pneumonia, diarrhea, hepatitis, tuberculosis, and a thousand and one other diseases.

Then there are the hundreds of thousands of children who have been killed in earthquakes, floods, famines, tornadoes, tsunamis, and hurricanes.

God has also let children become sex slaves and be used in pornography, have bombs strapped to them by terrorists, and allowed millions to be murdered in Nazi Germany and in hundreds of other wars.

Then there are those children who have died through Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, and the millions who are slaughtered each year through legalized abortion.

Mr. Atheist, if you really want an explanation as to why there is so much disease, endless suffering, injustice, and death, read your Bible. It will tell you that God did not create the world as it is, and it is us who are guilty of sin.

But, you’re an atheist, so you don’t believe God’s Word or heed His sober warning of Hell. So you are stuck with what the Bible calls a willful ignorance.

One other thing. The Scriptures will also show you that there’s no greater delusion of grandeur nor any greater arrogance, than for sinful man to stand in moral judgment over Almighty God. But if you remain as you are, you will find that out when you face Him.

I’m not going to break down every issue I have with this response line by line, because that’s too exhaustive. Frankly, it’s not the response itself I find disturbing, but rather the tone in which it was given. Based on my limited knowledge of the Bible, Comfort’s response is accurate. Nowhere are humans promised an easy life, and that promise seems amplified for those who call themselves followers of Jesus. Disciples and saints have a long and tainted history of torture, persecution, and martyrdom, so if we criticize the idea of a God who allows that sort of thing, we’re criticizing all of Christianity, too.

But how many of us have *really* witnessed suffering up close? How many people have tried to return to their lives after war, the suffering presumed to be over, only to relive it again and again from PTSD? How many rape victims live in constant, debilitating fear? How many survivors of abuse and injustice?

It should be so obvious that these events are life changing, and even life ruining for many. Soldiers battling trauma in their heads often end up committing suicide. Traumatized people often turn to dangerous substances to stave off memories and cope. How many of them turn to God in their trouble and find no answers that make sense? We can’t trivialize this, even if, as Christians, we expect to suffer.

Especially as Christians, we can’t trivialize the wounded places that questions like Fry’s come from. These are questions with no solid answers that can turn people away from God and organized religion altogether, which can have more consequences than a loss of belief and identity: loss of family, loss of respect, maybe even loss of jobs, depending on where you live and what you do (and if you don’t believe me on that, speak with my friend Neil at Godless in Dixie, who lives in the heart of the Bible Belt and can explain better than I can just how wrapped up Christian culture is with every facet of someone’s role in society).

If Christians care at all that the type of questions Fry is asking are causing people to leave the faith, we need to take them seriously, without the snark and especially without the condescending labels “Homosexual actor and author” and “Mr. Atheist.” What purpose do those serve other than to display arrogance?

Sadly, the comments weren’t much better. Some Christians seemed to relish the idea of Mr. Fry one day wetting his pants on Judgment Day realizing his whole life as an atheist was a lie, and even went as far as making ‘hellish’ puns on his name and how it relates to his eternal fate (yeah, sorry, couldn’t resist making one myself there).

Is this how we are called to respond when people ask tough questions??

I’ve been asking the same questions as Mr. Fry for some time now, and I can assure you that if I was responded to with “Well, Ms. Feminist/Ms. Jew-ish woman/Ms. Frizzy Curly-haired person with big glasses,” why would I feel inclined to go back to a church again?

I probably wouldn’t, because a religion full of people who don’t remember how to love is like a high school lunch table of Plastics holding a sign that reads YOU CAN’T SIT WITH US.

On a related note, here’s a similar post from a few months back: What Christians get wrong about love.

Filed under: Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, depression, evangelicals, Facebook, Feminism, First World Problems, grief, hell, Homosexuality, Judaism

The caveat of ‘being saved’

“I will pray for Jesus’ intervention in rescuing those poor girls.”

That was a response to an article highlighting the prevalence of sex trafficking at major city events like the Superbowl someone posted on Facebook. It’s a sentiment that acknowledges the horror of forced prostitution, which I agree with. It offers hope, which I would love to hold on to.

But ultimately, it’s rare for men, women, and children to be rescued from trafficking. So while I believe that “Jesus Saves,” statements like these really make me wonder what, exactly, we mean when we say that.

More to the point: if one rare person is saved from this horrible fate, finds a supportive community, and goes on to become a pillar of society, does he or she have the right to say this new life came from God? What about the millions of others who weren’t so lucky? What about those who stay enslaved their whole lives? Does saying, “God spared me” somehow negate the importance of all the other human beings who were not spared?

This is one of those permanent unknowable territories for me. But how does anyone really know?

When I got offered a contract with Booktrope this week (!!!!), my first response was, “Thank you God!” But what was I thanking him for, exactly? This offer didn’t fall from the sky; I worked for it. I’ve been working on this manuscript for hours every day for the past month, sometimes deleting entire sections that didn’t read as well on the screen as they sounded in my head. It was a seemingly endless process of writing, revising, deleting, and re-writing. Lots of head banging and cursing at the coffee pot for not providing me with more muse.

But in the end, I’m the one who submitted it. I earned that contract. If I’m “blessed” for it, maybe what I mean to thank God for is my writing talent (though four years as an English major in college helped cultivate that, too). I am thankful for this opportunity that, one way or another, came across my path.

That’s a very shallow comparison to a child who is born in an illegal brothel and relentlessly abused, however. Confronted with that evil reality, I can feel my views of God’s direct involvement with humanity shift more toward Deism than Christianity: a belief that he created the world and everything in it, but is relatively inactive today. Christianity tells the story of a God who is directly involved, always – and that’s a worldview I would prefer to believe in, because I can’t accept a broken world without redemption. But when we think of grace, salvation, and blessings as tangible things – being pulled out of literal wreckage and brought to a safer place – I think that’s missing the point.

Christianity is all about bearing suffering: confronting it, braving through it. Not avoiding it. And that was one major element that attracted me as I endured the aftermath of a friend’s suicide, an abusive boyfriend, a sick father who never made it to my wedding, and the demons of depression and anxiety that plague me on a regular basis. When I prayed regularly (something I find extremely difficult to do these days), I prayed for healthier ways of enduring pain. Not avoiding it. Because I know this is a world where nothing is guaranteed to be fair. I know that I, one of many fallen beings, am not any more unique and worthy of being handpicked from a car accident or a tornado than any of my peers.

I’m sure if such a thing ever did happen to me, I would thank God. How could I not? But I would thank God in such a way that acknowledges the mystery of my survival, and pray that I could live in such a way that it isn’t wasted.

Filed under: Rape Culture, Religion Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, evangelicals, First World Problems, grief, Writing

Authenticity as a form of marketing?

I love that time when the end of a book is in sight, and the final plot points and conclusion are already mapped out in my head. If I push myself past my daily word limit, I’m confident I can finish the first draft of SHADES OF DOUBT this week.

Which will bring me back to a dilemma I’ve kept on the backburner for the last few months: do I stay indie or attempt to query? I considered querying for my last two books, only to get excited and impatient when my cover designer showed me images she just “threw together” that convinced me no traditional publisher could do it better. While being my own creative boss is great, ultimately the decision the stay indie has been about my lack of patience. I could sign a contract with an agent this week and not see my book in print until the end of next year. That’s pretty typical in the traditional publishing world.

What motivates me to reconsider staying indie this time has more to do with my first-ever strategic marketing plan: something I never thought about as thoroughly as I should have with previous releases (and every author, regardless of how they are published, needs a solid marketing plan to build a buzz and sell books). Some topics are just difficult to make attractive to people, and I’m stubborn about tackling darker stuff like spiritual abuse and rape. How do you dress those up and make them look appealing?

You can’t. That was my mistake before: those are subjects that can’t be dressed up and packaged neatly. To reach the audience I want to reach, I have to present the grittiness in a realistic way that may be triggering for some readers, who will probably avoid my book if there’s a risk of traumatization. That’s fine. But for other readers, they may see a story that resonates with their own and feel understood, perhaps even comforted. I hesitate to call this group my “targeted market” because it’s not just about getting them to open their wallets and purchase my work. Rape culture is an issue I care about deeply, which is why I want those readers to participate in my “marketing strategy.”

What do I mean by that? Starting in the spring (hopefully) I want to open my blogging platform to abuse survivors to share their stories about not being believed. The stories can be shared with names and links to their own social media pages, or anonymously, if preferred. Bottom line: I want to get people talking about something that is not talked about enough, or is talked about in ways that degrade and dehumanize the victims. For every person who’s heard an abuse story that sounded “unbelievable,” I want to have honest discussions about why that is. All of this is relevant to the themes of the book, which I hope is entertaining as it is compelling.

If you are interested in sharing your story, please fill out the box on my Contact page.

Filed under: Rape Culture, Writing & Publishing Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, Controversy, Indie Author Life, rape culture, self-publishing, Writing

Why speak up at all?

My first “rape book” – as it’s come to be called – dealt with two teenage victims learning how to survive in the world. Obviously, the accused characters were presumed guilty from the beginning. They didn’t get any say in their defense because it wasn’t about them. A story that is meant to empower abuse victims has to belong to the victims. SHADES OF DOUBT purposefully takes a different approach, though, and is therefore harder to write because it tackles a scenario that is far too common: a respected pillar of the community is accused of assault. The majority of people who know him come to his defense, because “good guys” like him don’t do that.

Our justice system is (supposedly) structured around “innocent until proven guilty,” but the exact opposite mentality falls on the rape victim to prove her accusation is valid; she is a liar until proven otherwise.

Consequently, this story is supposed to be a lot more mind-bending: did he or didn’t he? Should she believe him when he says he didn’t do it, or should she investigate? Heck, what would any of us do if someone we cared about were accused of a terrible crime?

There’s no shame in saying we’d choose steadfast loyalty. When I think of the men who matter most in my life – my husband, my brother, my late father – I can’t stomach the thought of any of them purposely hurting anyone. I can’t imagine them capable of inflicting that kind of pain. If someone came to me and claimed to be assaulted by one of them, what would be my most logical response?

Once upon a time, I’d have called such an accuser a liar and gone on with my life. But I’ve been the accuser before: I agonized for years about whether to speak up, because I knew the shared acquaintances between myself and my rapist would essentially be forced to pick sides, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to involve outsiders unless I absolutely had to. But the statute of limitations came and went, leaving me with little choice. I spoke up…and prepared for consequences.

As you can see, none of my fiction is without autobiographical bits. I don’t share many of my character Adelaide’s values, but through her I seek to understand the mindset of those who know and even love my ex boyfriend, and how my speaking out made them feel. Believe me, I am not unsympathetic. However, my interactions with humans over the course of 26 years have shown me that anyone is capable of anything: myself included. Especially myself (for further validity of this theory, watch Breaking Bad. Really).

I didn’t ask for what happened to me, but I am responsible for how I handled things after, and the fact that I even contemplated certain means of justice – like going directly to my rapist’s family – troubled me. I spent many sleepless nights thinking of what I’d do if someone accused my little brother of rape, and if I’d be furious that that idea was even put into my head, or…if I would look into it. Because if you’ve never been a victim of abuse, or known someone who is, it’s hard to understand the importance of taking all accusations seriously, even if they concern people you swear are innocent.

It pains me to write that. But because my author brain thinks of characters as real people, their dilemmas become my dilemmas. Their pain becomes my pain. I want this book to ask questions of the reader that keeps them turning pages to find out what happened (or didn’t happen). I want my accused rapist to come off as a real ‘guy next door’ sort of person that any of us might know. If you ever read this book and ask yourself, “Why bother speaking up at all?” hang in there. That answer may not be self-evident, but it’s there.

SHADES OF DOUBT is almost finished and doesn’t have a release date…yet.

See also: Why Another Rape Book? and Why Another Rape Book? Part II

Filed under: Rape Culture, Writing & Publishing Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, Controversy, rape culture, self-publishing, Someone You Already Know, Writing

SHADES OF DOUBT: “The average woman wouldn’t lie about this”

The light at the end of the tunnel is now visible with SHADES OF DOUBT. As I have yet to edit the first draft and decide whether I’m going traditional or indie again, no release date has been configured yet. My best guess is possibly Fall 2015, but we’ll see what life throws at me :)

***

     It’s a surreal thing to pretend this is a normal evening by going through the usual motions of preparing for a date, but nothing is normal about this; nothing can be normal again. I never considered how the court of public opinion might be a rape victim’s only hope of justice, if she realizes she’s been raped at all. I never thought it would be such a difficult process to even comprehend that it happened. A few months ago, “I didn’t know I was raped” sounded as ludicrous as being “just a little bit” pregnant – you either are, or you aren’t; it happened, or it didn’t. The thought of a woman just not knowing strained credibility. It defied everything I thought I knew about common sense, about being able to read people’s motives and intentions if you looked closely enough. If you saw what was plain and obvious in front of you, and not what you’d prefer to see.

Almost ten years later, I still think about that night with [character name removed to prevent spoiler], and how it never felt right. It was disappointing, to say the least, but that’s not unusual for a teenage girl’s first time. It was disappointing because I expected to be taken care of, and that trust was gravely misplaced. All these years I berated the naiveté of teenage Addie, for being so idealistic and stupid. But that blame was also misplaced.

Normal women who have been jilted and broken-hearted binge on ice cream and Netflix for a weekend, sob with their girlfriends, and talk about how undeserving the guy is, how she’s better off without him. The average jilted woman doesn’t make a public accusation of rape.

Check out other excerpts here and here. And if you’re curious why another novel concerning rape and consent is warranted, click here and here.

Filed under: Rape Culture, Writing & Publishing Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, rape culture, self-publishing, Writing

What if everyone is a little bit liberal?

I’m quite impressed that the theme of this young adult group at my church is addressing tough questions: the aspects of our Christian faith that don’t make a lot of sense. Sitting at a table last week, we were all supposed to name something that we struggle to understand: for some, it was creationism vs. evolution. For others, the permissiveness of suffering, the inerrancy of the Bible, and whether miracles still happen.

By the time my turn came, I was surprised I was the first to mention hell. I couldn’t have been the only one thinking about it. In less than sixty seconds, I talked about the highlights of a blog post by my friend Neil, which has stuck with me, and bothered me, because what he has to say about reconciling hell’s existence with a good God makes sense to me. It bothers me because I agree with him on many levels, and I can’t help worrying that agreeing (or at least understanding his points) is the beginning of the unraveling: if hell makes no sense, if a God who doesn’t do away with such a place altogether makes his character questionable, does that mean the entirety of my faith falls apart?

When I was done speaking, I noticed the perplexed looks on people’s faces. “That’s interesting,” one said. “I never thought of it like that before…” Others nodded in agreement, and I started to feel sick. Clearly, I had just burst some kind of bubble, and I actually feared that I had accomplished the exact opposite of the Great Commission: Oh shit, I just deconverted an entire table of Christians into atheists.

Pretty sure that didn’t happen, but my next fear was just as ridiculous: What if they now think I’m a liberal Christian???

All through college, the phrase “liberal Christian” pissed me off and seemed like an oxymoron. Christianity is about a “narrow path,” for crying out loud; Jesus said so himself. What is “liberal” about that? To me, “liberal” implied making it up as you go along, cutting out parts that don’t make sense and rendering them useless and irrelevant. “Liberal” implied a desire to worship one’s self as a god.

But just as my definition of feminism underwent a drastic makeover, so too is my definition of this L-word that seems to drive so many Christians into a paranoid frenzy. If I am liberal, it simply means I am open to hearing alternate viewpoints. It means I’m willing to consider the possibility that I could be wrong about many things (though I certainly hope I’m not, but compared to centuries of scholars, let’s face it: I’m really not that smart).

This isn’t to say I no longer hold any firm convictions. In fact, anyone who “accuses” me of being liberal might be surprised to find out that I’m still adamantly pro-life (which is entirely different from being “pro-birth”), believe marriage is the ideal context in which to have sex, and I still inwardly chafe at the idea that “all religions are the same.” If both Muslims and Christians believe non-believers are destined for hell, they are not at all the same, despite similar teachings about how to treat our fellow man. Clearly, I’m not an easy person to categorize. But I don’t know anyone who is.

I read the blogs of popular evangelicals like Rachel Held Evans, and cringe at the criticism that she’s “too liberal” to be considered a leader in the faith, when my takeaway from her posts is that she’s simply unafraid to ask questions and address topics that many of us are thinking; we just can’t say them out loud because God forbid our faith is tainted “liberal.” It’s practically a death sentence, a label equivalent with heresy.

What is the opposite of being “liberal,” anyway? Conservative? Intolerant? Closed-minded? How are these terms to be used when they seem to be constantly in flux?

I’ve never met a person who doesn’t experience doubt and uncertainty every now and then, even if they hesitate to admit it. In this sense, we are all just a little bit liberal.

Filed under: Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, evangelicals, hell

Speaking up about rape: brave or foolish?

I’m blogging at Rachel in the OC today. Rachel Thompson is an awesome author, blogger, and advocate for survivors of sexual abuse. Check out her book Broken Pieces, an Amazon bestseller.

***

The lyrics to “Brave” by Sara Bareilles hit me hard and personally:

Your history of silence won’t do you any good/Did you think it would?/Let your words be anything but empty/Why don’t you tell them the truth?

That’s exactly what I’m ready to do.

Tell the truth.

But first, here’s the back story:

When I was seventeen, the summer before my senior year of high school, I met an outgoing, attractive, and charismatic twenty-one-year-old man about to enter his senior year of college. It was the kind of relationship where I dove in headfirst, as only a headstrong teenager can.

Read the rest here.

Filed under: Rape Culture Tagged: censorship, Controversy, depression, grief, rape culture

Building a business one cat meme at a time

Am I the only writer with this problem? Every month of halfway decent sales is followed by 1-2 more months of suck: no sales at all. None.

When this happens, I simply take a breath and remind myself of two things: 1) It happens to everyone, and 2) I’m competing against millions of other authors, many who come out with several books a year. Of course the competition is steep (not that it’s really a competition, even though at times it feels like one).

But that doesn’t mean the whole month is a wash. I’ve started to notice a pattern: when sales are down, social engagement goes up. When social engagement is low, sales are higher. It doesn’t make much sense, on the surface. You’d think that an increase of blog, Twitter, and Facebook followers would translate to sales, but that’s not always the case. As a reader myself, I understand that it can take a while for an author to gain my trust. I need to be reassured that my money is going toward a quality product. Often, I’ll follow someone’s blog for months before deciding to purchase their books. I have no doubt my followers do the same.

I’ve learned to appreciate the value of social interaction, though. One cannot earn readers without it. Sometimes it starts with a funny Tweet or a comment on someone else’s blog post. The silly observations and clever memes aren’t always pointless if they gain someone’s attention and captivate interest. It’s something I joke about with my husband, even though it’s not a joke: my job really does involve discussions on Twitter! There really is a purpose for sharing all these cat memes!

Sometimes if I’m not working on writing, I’m reading about writing. And sometimes I read aloud to Zoey.

Yes, on the surface I know that sounds ridiculous. But writers know that sometimes these silly measures are necessary. The authors I love most are the ones I connect to on a real, authentic level. I like reading about the messy, the every day, the grievances, and their overall process. As much as I’d love to present myself as being more of a big deal than I actually am, I know better. Other writers know that trick, because we’re all doing the best we can to keep our heads afloat in this business.

It’s always, always better to be honest than “professional.” So here goes: My name is Sarahbeth Caplin, and I haven’t sold any books yet this month. I am the furthest thing from a “big deal,” but I love what I do, and cannot imagine doing anything else. My royalties might never buy me a house, but they have bought me gas in the past. Sometimes.

In conclusion, here’s another picture of my adorable fur babies.

Filed under: Writing & Publishing Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, Facebook, Indie Author Life, self-publishing, Writing

That one time I eavesdropped on a discussion about homosexuality at Starbucks

I’ve moved four times in the last two years, and in each location I’ve found pockets of Christians at all the coffee shops I frequented. When I was new to Colorado and overheard snippets of a Bible study or Jesus-y conversation, my heart would swell with familiarity, and I’d feel a sense of home.

After leaving seminary, though, I’d eavesdrop on similar conversations and wonder, how will these people react if I were to jump in and be honest about the questions I have? There’s always that 50-50 chance when you insert yourself into strangers’ dialogue that you’ll emerge with new friends, or end up making things really awkward for everyone.

This week I decided I’d just listen. The conversation was about Christian compassion in response to LGBT discrimination (probably in the wake of Leelah Alcorn’s suicide). My attention faded in and out as I tried to focus on my book, but honestly, when two people are discussing something interesting and they are sitting three feet away from you, listening in can’t be wrong. So I turned my iPod off, but kept the headphones in, and pretended to be engrossed in my reading.

“It makes me sad when people are so quick to judge others,” the guy was saying (I’m horrible at guessing people’s ages, but he was around 20-something?).

“Absolutely,” replied the girl, bobbing her blonde head in agreement (also a theoretical 20-something). “I mean, Christians should be loving people back into healthy sexuality instead of acting cruel.”

At this point I had to bite my lip to keep from responding, but I don’t know what I would have said: Can you be a little more specific about what “loving people back into healthy sexuality” means? Can you explain why homosexuality is so bad, besides the fact that it’s “against God’s design”? Because plenty of straight, married couples aren’t having children and they’re still welcome in church, but that’s technically “against God’s design” too, right?

It’s better that I didn’t say anything. The words would have come out sloppy, tangled, and rushed. The last thing I wanted to do was appear antagonistic, because I’ve participated in countless similar discussions over the last several years. Only I wasn’t always concerned with appearing compassionate and Christ-like. I’ve carried an air of intolerance disguised as sympathy for homosexuals, which was easy to do as a straight woman, completely unable to understand their plight. It also helped that I didn’t know any homosexuals personally. After a while, my intolerance shifted toward indifference: I’d take no stance at all on the issue, as it did not apply to me. But during my final year of college, I did become acquainted with people who were gay, and I couldn’t remain indifferent any longer.

I chose the side of compassion and understanding. I decided I’d ask to hear people’s coming out stories and give them the attention they deserve. But as far as “loving people back to healthy sexuality,” that seemed beyond my qualifications, nor did it seem like any of my business.

So in a way, I’m still stuck in a state of indifference: I could accept the Bible’s proposed stance on homosexuality, but I have to be honest and admit that I hope those interpretations will be revealed in fifty years as misunderstood, just as Christians misunderstood verses pertaining to slavery. So I’m not investigating the sources out of fear of what I might find. I’m afraid of reading into things with a bias. I’m choosing to stay away, for now.

My close circle of Christian friends have assured me that this doesn’t have to be a deal-breaker, as far as salvation is concerned. The Bible does say, after all, that one must believe in Jesus to be saved: not vote against gay marriage, register Republican, protest abortion in all circumstances, and so on. Still, it concerns me that one doubt tends to have a ripple affect on all other things I thought I was certain about. Yank one weed, reveal three more.

What should I have done if I were a participant in that conversation? Put on a faithful face and hope to “fake it till I make it”? Pretend to understand and agree even if I don’t?

I’ve heard plenty of sermons about “choosing to believe,” but is that really what we mean? I’d love to choose the belief that the majority of Christians have an accurate handle on what these “clobber verses” mean: that gays are an abomination, that homosexuality can be prayed away. The problem is, Christianity (and all religions in general) has not been as static as we’d like to think. History has shown us where we’ve erred in our interpretations. I can’t help but wonder about the future of this faith: if fifty years from now, we will still be teaching the same things.

It seems to me that the one static thing about Christianity since its inception is the teaching of Jesus as the one source of salvation, but viewpoints change as technology and science mature to reveal new things about the human body and mind. Every generation develops tools for knowledge that were not available to their predecessors. It has been commonly taught that suicide is a sin, for example, but knowledge of depression as a serious mental illness has changed some of that thinking. If science can one day prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that people are born homosexual or transgendered, will our teachings update, or remain the same?

Filed under: Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, evangelicals, Homosexuality

SHADES OF DOUBT: excerpt

So remember that new book I’m working on? I’m finally jumping back in after a month-long hiatus. Adelaide Scott is a 25-year-old magazine columnist for a a Cosmopolitan-style women’s magazine. Her new boyfriend, Jordan, is a photographer for a sports magazine, and is quite well-known and respected in his field. Until one of his ex girlfriends publicly accuses him of rape. Jordan swears he’s innocent, and Addie wants to believe him. So Jordan gives her a list of all his recent exes for Addie to ‘interview’ to prove he’s telling the truth. Addie will find out the truth…but it’s nothing like she expects.

Read the excerpt from Chapter 1 here, and if you’re curious as to why I’m writing another book about rape, check out this and this.

No release date yet, but stay tuned!

*****

     Jordan is already waiting at the bar when I get there. I try not to look too eager as I set my bag on the counter and take the chair next to him. Be cool. Be Stunning. “What are you drinking?” I ask.

“Coffee-flavored stout,” he answers. “Wanna try?”

He pushes the bottle toward me. I exhale before I try a sip, because it’s a stout, so I already know I’ll hate it. I don’t like beers that are thick enough to be a meal.

“It’s good,” I tell him, and signal the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s having, please.”

“So,” Jordan says, turning to face me. “There’s someone I want you to meet. She’ll be here shortly.”

My stomach instantly clenches at the word she. His next hookup partner? A secret girlfriend? I suppose either possibility was inevitable, since it’s not like he ever promised me anything serious. And I realize I’m acting a bit paranoid. Still, it would have been nice to get a heads up before sprinting this new woman on me, completely out of the blue.

In fact, I’m suddenly so furious, I open my mouth to rip him a new one, but I’m interrupted.

“Hi,” interrupts a female voice. We both look down, and I want to kick myself for being so paranoid. It belongs to the toddler from the photo in his wallet.

“Zoe!” Jordan immediately scoops her up, which she seems to love judging by her breakout smile. “Where’s your mom? You’re too little to be in here by yourself.”

“Potty,” Zoe answers.

“Ahh. Okay. Well I guess you can chill with us while we wait for her to come back. Addie?” Jordan settles her in his lap rests his chin on the girl’s head. “Meet my niece, Zoe. My favorite person in the whole world.”

“Hey there,” I say. I have to stop myself from extending my hand, as if toddlers know how to handshake. I’m not the best with kids, but it’s adorable how much Jordan clearly adores her. My uterus almost skips a beat.

Before long, the woman I presume to be Jordan’s sister shows up. “Do you mind watching her for a few minutes, Jordy? I’m so behind on this research paper, I just need maybe twenty minutes to look some things over. Your next drink will be on me, I promise.”

“You know you don’t need to bribe me to hang out with this girl,” Jordan responds, bouncing Zoe on his lap, which makes her laugh and laugh. I almost can’t handle this cuteness. “Hey, this is my girlfriend Addie, by the way.”

Girlfriend Addie?? What the hell? I’m as shocked as I am honored.

“Oh, wow, hey. Sorry, I’m so rude. Nice to meet you Addie, I’m Elise. I’d love to stay and chat, but I have so much homework. We’ll talk later?” She disappears to a table across the bar before I can respond “Nice to meet you” back.

What just happened here?

While Jordan orders a scone for Zoe, I nurse my drink and try to think of what to say. “So…girlfriend, huh?” is all I can come up with. Not too eager, not too emotional. I hope.

“Well, yeah,” remarks Jordan, as he breaks up the scone into smaller bites for his niece. “What did you think?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “You just made it seem like we were…”

“Well maybe that’s how it started.” He reaches for my hand with his free one, as the other gently holds his niece. “But I like you. I assumed you felt the same.”

     Keep calm, Adelaide. I force myself to take another swig of beer. “Of course.” As much as I’d love to know when he realized I was a keeper, and not just a fling, I switch to another topic instead. “So Elise seems nice.”

“Yeah, she is. Just constantly tired and overworked. She finally decided to go back to school after she had Zoe, and she’s determined to graduate within a year. Not bad for a single mom.”

My next question–assuming I could have found a tactful way to put it–was going to be about Zoe’s dad, since I noticed Elise didn’t have any rings on her left hand. I’m grateful he covered that for me. “You must be very proud of her.”

“I am. I’m proud of both my sisters. Emma is a junior in high school and did better on the ACT than I did. And she kicks my ass in chess.” Suddenly mindful of the impressionable girl in his lap, whose face is covered in scone crumbs, Jordan coos, “I mean, butt. Don’t say ‘ass,’ Zo-Zo. Uncle Jordy has a potty mouth.”

“Potty mouf!” Zoe cries, releasing a spray of crumbs. Jordan shakes his head. “What can I do? I’m her favorite babysitter, but also her worst influence.”

It’s hard for me to reconcile these two sides of him: Jordan, the high-profile photographer with a girlfriend list as long as my arm, and goofy Uncle Jordy, fun-loving family man. Charmer of adult women and two-year-olds.

I’m about to say, “I highly doubt that’s true,” but my thoughts are interrupted by a frail, redheaded woman who just entered the bar, and is staring directly at us. I only noticed her because of the fiery brightness of that hair – the eyes that instantly locked into mine were an unexpected spook. I jerk my head back to Jordan, eyes cast down into my drink. “How long can you go before teaching her your dirtiest jokes?” I ask.

“Hmm…” Continuing to hold Zoe with one arm, he grabs his beer and takes a big gulp, pretending to ponder. “Those will have to wait until she’s much older. Like kindergarten.”

“Will Elise approve of that?”

“Elise will be grateful to have someone else to blame so people don’t think she’s the one who corrupted her.”

My laugh, though genuine, is louder than I anticipated, as the red-haired girl’s intense stare continues to freak me out. Now she’s locked her eyes on Jordan. It’s hard not to un-notice, but Jordan’s back is facing her, so he has no idea. “So you come from a family of potty mouths, I take it?”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly. My parents…well, let’s just say, we try to hide that side of ourselves when we’re around them.”

“I see…” My voice trails off as the girl starts walking toward us. Her eyes continue steadily boring holes in Jordan’s back, but her steps are wobbly. Is she drunk? No, more like…nervous.

“Hey.” Squeezing Jordan’s knee, I jerk my head slightly in what’s-her-face’s direction. “You know that girl?”

By the time Jordan turns around, there she is directly in front of us, eyes wild and face flaming like her hair.

“Jordan Johnson?” she asks timidly. “Is that you?”

Jordan’s forehead creases every so slightly as he stares her down. Almost cautiously. There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes, mixed with surprise and dread. He knows her. And however he knows her, it looks like he wishes he didn’t. “Um, yeah. What are you doing here, Sam? I thought you moved out of the city?”

This Sam girl is so thin and short statured, with a baby-looking face to match, she could almost pass for a high school senior. Her eyes dart around wildly like a spooked horse as shakes her head. “You,” she exclaims, voice shaking and pointed finger trembling. “You…”

“Look, Sam, I’d love to catch up sometime, but I’m kind of with my new girlfriend here–”

I relish the fact that this is the second time in the same hour that I’ve been referred to as Jordan’s girlfriend. But the euphoria doesn’t last long, because the next words out of Sam’s mouth are piercing and unforgettable:

“You raped me.”

Filed under: Rape Culture, Writing & Publishing Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, rape culture, self-publishing, Writing