A bible doesn't have to be banged . . .

I've pretty much been ear-deep in edits lately (for Carny's Magic, my May 29 Loose Id release), so between that, my domestic obligations, and shopping for nonfiction books -- I've recently developed a craving for them -- I haven't paid much attention to anything else. I realized, sort of at the last minute, that I had a release on Wednesday. But since I was on a tight edit-deadline, I didn't pay that much mind, either. (Besides, what can you do aside from letting readers know your title is available? When a book's out, it's out. Pimp-hammering the hell out of people doesn't accomplish much.)

Anyway, my search for new books resulted in the usual link-following. I'll admit I'm easily distracted. :)  A study of the 1856 Mormon handcart-pioneer tragedy eventually led me to Marie Sexton's Between Sinners and Saints, which I've wanted to read since it came out. Like Marie's other excellent books, this one is highly regarded. But plenty of readers still took issue, however delicately, with the story's religious content.

I'd had a little knot in my stomach before A Hole in God's Pocket was released. The knot returned. 'Cause I ain't Marie Sexton. Often, any m/m romance that centers on the subject of questioning one's faith invites a certain reaction complete with certain words. I've encountered this before, and I'm sure other writers have too. Whether a character is criticizing or defending his (or his love interest's) beliefs, or simply trying to explain the nature of his spiritual conundrum, the author is setting him/herself up for charges of being "preachy" or "heavy-handed"; of "lecturing" or "sermonizing."

This bothers me. A lot.

How can an individual or a couple work through such a profound dilemma without pondering or discussing it? Communication is part and parcel of relationship-building. It leads to understanding, to closeness. Character conversations that center on faith, or doubt, don't mean the author is trying to make converts. They don't constitute either evangelical sermons or atheistic diatribes. They're simply a means to the end that readers of m/m romance are always looking for: character self-acceptance, and intimacy grounded in mutual respect.

Here's an extract from an earlier post about A Hole in God's Pocket. I hope it offers some insights that will allay readers' fears. (And if it doesn't, I'm sorry to disappoint you.)          

What drove me to write the book (in addition to my lifelong fascination with human belief systems) was something I'd read online a while back, an opinion piece by a queer guy who lamented how the issue of spirituality was usually overlooked in queer fiction. He was right.

Authors don't hesitate to cast fundamentalist homophobes as villains, which is perfectly understandable and justified, but not many in the m/m romance genre want to tackle the importance of faith in the lives of gay men and the painful struggle that often results when orientation clashes with theology. None of the so-called Abrahamic religions -- Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, in nearly all their various sectarian manifestations -- takes a kind view of [deviations from strict] heterosexuality.

So I considered the difference between Christian manifestos disguised as fiction (the Left Behind series, for example) and religious faith as a theme in fiction. Although I still haven't breathed a sigh of relief, the difference quickly became apparent. The aim of evangelical writers is, essentially, to proselytize. Spreading the Word is part and parcel of their raison d'etre. But the rest of us, whether it's Marie Sexton or Andrew Grey or Shelter Somerset or authors of "literary" GLBTQ stories, aren't ideologues. We're simply trying to examine a significant and often troubling issue that shouldn't be ignored.