Tom Pawlik is the highly imaginative, Christy Award-winning author of Vanish, Valley of the Shadow, Beckon, and the novella Recollection from the 7 Hours anthology. His thought-provoking, edge-of-your-seat thrillers are infused with nonstop suspense that grabs you on the first page and won’t let go until the last.

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I’m sitting in my room on the 22^nd floor of the Westin Bonaventure hotel in downtown Los Angeles after a long day at a science expo (part of my day job). It’s nearly midnight and I have to get this blog article written and submitted in twenty-four hours.

But I have absolutely no idea what to write.

So I decide—after fruitlessly perusing the internet—to just start typing and see what comes out. I figure if I get my fingers moving, maybe it will stimulate some part of my brain to fire the proper neurons and create an idea.

Then it hits me… where do ideas come from in the first place? Are they simply chemical reactions inside the brain? Neurons firing at random, sending random signals along random pathways in the cerebral cortex until… voila! To Kill A Mockingbird.

Or is there an incorporeal element involved? Some type of spiritual activity—call it inspiration—that precedes and even initiates the neurological response? Is this perhaps the mark of God on the human race? Part of our Imago Dei?

Either way, it’s the heart of storytelling.

It’s a heady thought (pun intended), that some mixture of immaterial and chemical reactions in your brain can lead to a book or a blog that gets read by someone half way around the world.

For example, if I write the following sentence: a young widow follows clues left behind by her husband that lead her to discover a mysterious black box hidden in his office… does that idea send the same signals through your brain as it did in mine when I thought of it?

Like copying a file from one computer drive to another, that little snatch of neurons firing in my brain cells, is transformed into nerve signals that direct my fingers to type a specified pattern of l-e-t-t-e-r-s on my keyboard which then get transmitted as binary code in an email to Rebecca Miller who then posts it on a blog which you read and transform them back into chemical signals that move up your optic nerves into your brain where they get interpreted into a neural pattern that elicits a psycho-emotive response. Hopefully one that piques your curiosity.

But then why are some ideas better than others? Is it that some neural patterns are objectively more evocative than others? Does norepinephrine generate more interesting concepts than serotonin? Or are they affected by the time of day, or one’s location or mood? For instance, right now I might think these thoughts are very thought-provoking but when I read them again in the morning, I may think they’re perfectly horrid and you’ll never even know I ever wrote them because I decided not to submit them to Rebecca. Or maybe I did submit them, but something got messed up in her neurons to make her think this article was absolute rubbish and she refused to post it. Who knows?

Regardless, this is one of the things that makes us different from the rest of the animal kingdom. Our creativity.

Other animal species may have developed forms of communication, but so far as we know only humans engage in storytelling. Only humans demonstrate the ability to think abstractly, to manufacture characters and plots designed to create an emotional response in the minds of an audience, making them contemplate their world, their relationships, or their own mortality. This is something uniquely human. Something for which scientists have not found a satisfactory Darwinian explanation.

Now that’s food for thought.

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Learn More About The Author.

Tom’s fascination with the weird, the creepy and the unknown began at a very early age when he was introduced to a bizarre 19th century German story book called “Der Struwwelpeter”. The book was a collection of nightmarish morality tales by a German physician who obviously had too much time on his hands and no children of his own. The morbid nursery rhymes–sort of a Mother Goose meets Stephen King–included the frightful “Daumenlutscher” (Thumbsucker), a disturbing yarn about a young boy who was warned that if he continued to suck his thumbs, the local tailor would chop them off with his sewing shears. Other tales warned against playing with matches and being overly messy. Needless to say Tom never played with matches, generally kept his room clean and to this day retains the use of both his thumbs.

But the psychological damage was already done, and Tom’s warped imagination turned him to writing his own creepy stories at a rather young age. Alas, no publishers were brave enough to bring his stories to print, so Tom would not realize his life-long dream of becoming a published author until the ripe old age of forty-two. Today, Tom lives in Ohio and is happily married with six children of his own… who, oddly enough, never sucked their thumbs.

Follow Tom on Facebook or at his web site.

Last week’s reading group reminded me of why I love the Chronicles of Narnia so much: the stories’ direct showcase of what I can only call serious joy. With so much frivolity about in the world, in stories, and in my own heart, re-beholding this is like hearing a favorite song.

“These are tools not toys,” Father Christmas cautions as he reveals to the children their gifts. The same could be said about this series itself, or any great tale that our Father gives us.

Does this mean we are not entertained by such gifts or stories? Not at all. And sometimes people (including readers here) have challenged me to fight my impulses to make a story or anything else seem outwardly “useful” to some Duty! By doing this, one hijacks the thing for his own intents, not an author’s and likely not God’s. Yet it’s the arrival of Father Christmas, who here is like a messenger or “prophet” or Aslan, that reminds me of solemn, serious joy.

[Father Christmas] was so big, and so glad, and so real, that they all became quite still. They felt very glad, but also solemn. …

Lucy felt running through her that deep shiver of gladness which you only get if you are being solemn and still. …

“These are your presents … and they are tools not toys.” … Peter was silent and solemn as he received these gifts, for he felt they were a very serious kind of present.

— The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, pages 107-108 (emphases added)

“When they tried to look at Aslan’s face they just caught a glimpse of the golden mane and the great, royal, solemn, overwhelming eyes; and then they found they couldn’t look at him and went all trembly.”

Last Saturday, with help, I hoped to share this Biblical ideal with my church’s real-life reading group: not a the notion of a duty-driven or enforced seriousness, but a joyful and glad solemnity. Can we ever find this holy place of gladness and seriousness, rejecting the notion of turning everything into a “toy”? How do we see this sense in the stories we love?

Somehow this theme seemed even more prevalent as I re-read these two LWW chapters. Watch for this contrast: of the wrong sort of “seriousness” — the manipulative, duty-driven dominance of the Witch — versus the joyful, holy, righteous seriousness that Aslan brings.

Chapter 11: Aslan Is Nearer

1. After the first few pages, until the Witch rushes out in her sleigh, how do you feel about Edmund now? Do your thoughts approach “finally he is catching on, just like I did by the end of chapter 4”? Or might you be thinking, “I feel sorry for him; he reminds me of myself when my deceptions run out and I have nowhere else to turn but repentance”?
2. Why do you think the Witch stops to find out who gave the part of animals their gifts?
3. “What is the meaning of all this gluttony, this waste, this self-indulgence? Where did you get all these things?” (page 115) Is the Witch even partly right in her accusation? Why does she assume this about the beasts? If she’s wrong, what were they really doing?
4. How might this be similar to how evil people, or Satan, reacts to good pleasures today? By contrast, how does God view good pleasures, and how should we enjoy them?
5. “And Edmund for the first time in this story felt sorry for someone besides himself.” (page 117) How does this make you feel? As this party of animals isn’t mentioned again in the story, what do you think happened to them? Do you believe Aslan later restored them?
6. How do you find the pages of description about the arrival of spring? Who is bringing it? (Hint: the chapter title.) What themes might be in the contrast of winter and spring?

Chapter 12: Peter’s First Battle

1. The first of this chapter is heavy with descriptions of the world, then of Aslan’s camp, then finally of Aslan himself. Do you tend to read faster during these parts, or slower? Why do you think the author spends more time describing things like this, and less time describing, say, exactly how Peter dresses or what the White Witch’s sleigh looks like?
2. Aslan is surrounded by more Narnian creatures, including many we haven’t previously seen, such as centaurs. Which creature or mythical beast do you like best, and why?
3. “When they tried to look at Aslan’s face they just caught a glimpse of the golden mane and the great, royal, solemn, overwhelming eyes; and then they found they couldn’t look at him and went all trembly.” (page 126) Why might the author describe Aslan’s appearance and effects this way? How do you think you would feel if you met Aslan like this?
4. This is from C.S. Lewis in his nonfiction book Mere Christianity: “God is the only comfort, He is also the supreme terror: the thing we most need and the thing we most want to hide from. He is our only possible ally, and we have made ourselves His enemies. Some people talk as if meeting the gaze of absolute goodness would be fun. They need to think again. They are still only playing with religion.” Do we sometimes “play with religion” and not consider the truth that Christ is “royal, solemn, overwhelming,” making us fear?
5. Aslan is fearful and solemn, yet his camp is bright and colorful, filled with expectation and joy. When the children arrive, he claps his paws together and declares a feast — here is another feast in the story. Why all the feasts? How is this also a serious joy?
6. Imagine being Peter during the battle. What may you have expected? By contrast, what was the battle truly like? What was Peter’s response? What would yours have been?

Pardon me as I play dress-up this week.

If you left The Dark Knight (2008) almost giddy at the evil wisecracking and chaos-raising of The Joker, or perhaps worse, wishing the character was more “developed,” I feel sorry for you. If for similar reasons you can’t wait to see The Dark Knight Rises, the final film of director Christopher Nolan’s Bat-trilogy that releases this Friday, I’m also sympathetic.

Christians have had mixed reactions to superhero films in general, and The Dark Knight (TDK) films in particular. Many reviewers praised the first film, Batman Begins (2005), for its view of revenge versus real justice. Yet they weren’t sure what to make of the darkness.

Superman flies in blue skies, in bluer tights and a bright red cape.

Spider-Man, wearing similar team colors, swings about the sunlit streets of Manhattan.

So what’s with Batman? Here is a hero who hides his colors. Yet he’s a true hero anyway?

We can rightly mock the “gritty reboots” TDK “inspired.” Stories need not be “gritty” to be realistic. In fact, light is more real than darkness.

Yet deeper darkness may cloud how Christians perceive TDK — and may also see The Dark Knight Rises. For God’s glory and our good, let’s explore and reject those false doctrines and darknesses, so that we may best expose the real darkness we encounter.

Christians misread two TDK elements: the Joker’s motives, and Batman’s sacrifice.

1. Not getting the Joker

Just days after I saw TDK in summer 2008, I was still gripped. Much of that centered around The Joker, the sadistic, psycho clown who apparently cannot even be hurt, and works only to “watch the world burn.” He kills without remorse. While he takes a life he merely jokes and (dare I say it) “cuts up.” He disturbingly switches between false offers of comfort — “C’mere. Hey. Look at me” — and maniacal, murderous chaos.

Since then The Joker has helped to inform my perception of ultimate human evil, a fact of “total depravity” untempered even by God’s common grace. The Joker is absolute evil. To say so isn’t to “redeem” the villain from the director’s intent, but to respect Nolan’s original vision. “To me, the Joker is an absolute,” Nolan said. “There are no shades of gray to him.”

Paul appealed to the pagan poet to find a touchpoint with his culture about the Creator. We can appeal to The Joker to find a touchpoint with out culture about real, unrestrained evil.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t work if Christians misinterpret TDK, and what Scripture says about real evil. In doing this, they not only miss the film’s themes, but bypass the truth of how Scripture says we would act apart from the common and specific graces of Christ.

Even worse, these misinterpretations may reveal a lack of understanding part of the Gospel and why Jesus died — and a lack of seeing how this can be echoed, not repeated, in a story.

Even secular movie critic Roger Ebert did not understand the Joker. In his review of TDK, he wrote that The Joker’s “cackle [betrays] deep wounds,” and that “he seeks revenge, he claims, for the horrible punishment his father exacted on him when he was a child.”

If you’ve seen the film, you know why you are smiling right now. You will recall The Joker tells at least two different versions of his “origins story.” He’s about to tell a third to Batman before the hero finally one-ups the villain. Which one is real? That’s the point — he makes it up. Perhaps Ebert was out refilling on popcorn during the Joker’s next two “testimonies.”

Perhaps a Christian movie critic will understand evil better, not trying to whitewash it by saying the villain is merely Wounded or has Father Issues. Right?

How about MovieGuide.org? “Joker is psychotic and mean from the beginning,” the site wrote in its review of TDK. “He’s shown to be psychotic and mean several times. A little character growth would have helped him a great deal.”

Alas, MovieGuide misses the point. The Joker is an axiom, almost an “icon” of evil. To complain about a lack of “character development” is to misjudge the genre and intent.

How about fantasy author Bryan Davis? Whew, we had a fascinating exchange about this in response to his Aug. 8, 2008 film review — though that debate has since vanished from his page. “There is nothing ‘real’ about this movie,” Davis insisted in one comment. “Our kids will never run into anything close to the characters or events in this movie. The story is a twisted view of reality. People who think this is realistic have serious problems.”

Beliefs like these have given me scars. They may betray a false mindset: that villains need not really be so evil deep down. That belief is at best unhelpful, but this resulting inevitable conclusion is more perilous: that the Gospel only works in a pre-cleaned world.

As for the “our kids will never run into anything close to the characters or events in this movie” claim, I daresay some Christian children who have grown up to become police officers, psychiatrists, prison guards or paramedics have had their share of dealing with insane and psychotic people — that certainly qualifies as “anything close” to the Joker.

In the film series, Nolan seems to offer three explorations of wrong responses to evil:

1. Batman Begins — vengeance. Indiscriminately destroy evil.
2. The Dark Knight — anarchy. Embrace evil and become it.
3. The Dark Knight Rises — control. Dictator-like, wickedly manipulate others’ sins.

We’d be fools to discount these reflections of very Biblical views of good fighting evil.

2. Not seeing the Knight

MovieGuide and Davis also misread what the film clearly showed as a sacrificial, heroic act. Before we continue, you might want to see the scene again. It’s rendered well, right here.

Commissioner Gordon and Batman face an impossible quandary. Thanks to The Joker, Gotham City’s “white knight” hero, on whom the others had based all their hopes to rid the city of crime, had himself become the villain Two-Face and gone on a killing spree.

The Joker took their best face and corrupted it, Gordon laments. “People will lose hope.”

Then Batman steps in. That needn’t be the story, he says. “I killed those people. … You’ll hunt me. You’ll condemn me. Set the dogs on me. Because that’s what needs to happen.” Batman takes the blame. This hero has become a penal substitution for another man’s sins.

“Why’s he running, Dad?”
“Because we have to chase him.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Because he’s the hero Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now. So we’ll hunt him. Because he can take it. Because he’s not our hero. He’s a silent guardian, a watchful protector. A dark knight.”

No, it is not “truthful.” It is not “fair.” It is not an exact replica of the Gospel that inspires all other hero stories. Yet is does echo that part of the Gospel: that Christ switched places with sinful men, and that God the Father, as He planned from eternity past, burst out with His crushing and condemning wrath against the Son of God Who deserved no punishment.

Some could say Christ is a “liar.” In place of those who believe, He became the villain. Yet in that way, He is the true hero — a hero on a level much deeper than many would think.

Yet MovieGuide summarized the film this way: “Very confused and eclectic, or mixed pagan, philosophical perspectives ending on a relativistic, deconstructionist ‘truth does not matter’ sentiment.” The reviewer later criticizes Batman’s substitutionary sacrifice: “[H]ero decides to lie to solve plot problem and police commissioner agrees with him. … It suggests a hero can be a liar without tarnishing his heroic qualities.”

Evidently the only person “confused” about the film’s worldview was the MovieGuide reviewer. If TDK’s finale equals “truth does not matter,” so does Christ’s “deceptive” death.

Davis also misread TDK’s atonement echoes. “What? Are you kidding?” he wrote. “Save the reputation of the psychopath and destroy the reputation of the true hero? For what reason? So the Joker wouldn’t ‘win.’ Lie to honor the dead false hero, who can’t help you anymore, and destroy the true hero who can help? That’s absurd. It’s stupid. It’s wrong.”

No, it’s war. This is not exactly the real world, where there is no Joker and no Batman, but still reflective of reality. Real psychopaths exist. Our children may encounter them. True heroes may lie, even for right reasons. And man’s heroic stories can only echo the Gospel.

As I attempted to say back then:

There will never be a parallel to the true Gospel in people’s fiction, without it being so allegorical as to be a verbatim re-telling of the real Gospel. Not even Aslan dying for Edmund in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (either book or film) was an exact parallel — whether Lewis meant it or not, it was more similar to the false “ransom theory” of atonement in our world rather than Aslan suffering His own Father’s wrath as Christ did here. (In the story, Edmund didn’t even know that Aslan had died for him.) But that does not mean I cannot appreciate and enjoy the story for its close parallel to Christ’s sacrifice and redemption anyway.

Moreover, Christ, though He never sinned, has died and in our place. It was not simply as a gesture of forgiveness, or to show (in a very backward, confusing way!) that God is now “above” requiring death as payment for sins (Hebrews 9:22). His death is substitutionary.

Even some professing Christians don’t understand that. They decide that the idea of Christ laying down his life and in effect “lying” about the sins He claims as His own is “cosmic child abuse.” They insist: “God wouldn’t do that; He’s all about love, so He could never be a villain!” But God Himself, in Scripture, didn’t see a need for such propaganda. “He was crushed for our iniquities,” the prophecy about Him says (Isaiah 53:5).

It’s a terrible truth. Even an “unfair” truth. But speaking as someone who could have been a psychopathic killer apart from His common grace, and a Hell-bound sinner apart from His specific grace, I won’t question God’s “unfairness” or Jesus’s becoming a “villain.” Christ is truly heroic — even though many try to hunt Him, hate Him, and loathe Him as the villain. That reaction to Him now is just like the angry mob’s reaction to Him then. And ultimately it’s very similar to the fate chosen by the Dark Knight as well.

Conclusion: Rises predictions

I’d be loathe to end this without a brief exploration on a question that will be current for only a few more days: whether Batman will live or die in the final film. I believe Bruce Wayne and/or Batman can live or die symbolically to wrap up the story and this version of the hero; there is no need for him literally to die. Either way, the story can end powerfully.

(Edited from articles posted at the original version of Speculative Faith and my own blog.)

From time to time, I like to give writers an opportunity to showcase their work and to get reader feedback. We’ve even talked informally about having a contest or two here at Spec Faith if there seems to be interest in such a thing.

Writers’ challenges seem like one way to find out if that kind of endeavor is viable or not.

If this is to work, we first need readers as well as writers! Writers want to know what readers think about their work, so this kind of challenge only works if readers come along and participate.

I’m back and forth on one point: is there value in declaring a “winner”? We could create a poll and have readers vote after we’ve determined which are the top three to five entries. Perhaps you can give my your thoughts on adding that step to the challenge.

For now, here’s the way we’ll set up this introductory Spec Faith writing challenge. I’ll give a first line, and those who wish to accept the challenge will write what comes next–in 100 to 200 words, putting those in the comments section of this post.

Readers will give thumbs up to the ones they like the most, and, if they wish, they may give a reply to the various entries, telling what particularly grabbed their attention.

I think this could be fun. And helpful to writers. 😀

Here’s the first line those of you accepting the challenge have to work with.

No matter how Amos tilted his head or scrunched his eyes, he couldn’t see past the growing shadow that obscured the distant mountains and the road that led to them.

Your word count does not include this first line. You have between now and next Monday to post your challenge entries in the comments section and to reply.

Feel free to invite any of your friends to participate, either as writers or readers.

The worlds of fantasy and science fiction branch into so many subgenres, you could spend an entire afternoon trying to determine exactly where the story you are reading truly fits. And each of those subgenres experiences an ebb and flow of popularity. One year cyberpunk rules the realm of book sales; in another time, steampunk holds center stage. Vampires or zombies? Gothic, urban, contemporary—or a mix of all three?

Beneath this current of shifting tastes in speculative fiction, the audience for traditional fantasy remains. You can always count on finding new books about sword-slingers, and authors can reliably count on encountering an audience for such stories. But what is it about the image of the sword in particular that endures so long beyond a time when the weapon has become little more than a collector’s item?

It’s significant that in the Bible, the sword appears from Genesis to Revelation—and I don’t think that only has to do with the audience that was living during the time of the books’ writing. After all, if the Bible is God’s inspired word, he could have chosen to inspire it at any point in history, or he could have given those who penned its words the vision to explain some sort of weapon besides a sword. We can be fairly certain Christ’s return will come at a time when ballistic weapons are part of the world’s technology, and yet, the Bible paints Christ as a wielder of a sword as his weapon of winnowing. Will it be a literal sword? Perhaps not. But why the choice of the imagery then, and what does that have to do with fantasy-lover’s innate appreciation for blade-based combat?

The way a sword requires the wielder engage his opponent has a lot to do with the fantasy reader’s fascination with them. Sword combat requires a combatant face his opponent, unflinching, and to be fully intentional about his engagement in the battle. Sword combat is highly personal. A swordsman cannot deny his clear connection to the damage he deals with his weapon.

In the same way, we know there is nothing haphazard about the way God will one day choose to defeat the enemy. No cross-fire, no collateral damage—just a series of very intentional strokes of a well-honed weapon meant for one purpose.

I believe fantasy readers long for the nobility, the bravery, the ownership of one’s actions a well-wielded sword requires. Fantasy is one of the few places in the literary world where clear delineations between good and evil get the spotlight, and in a similar way, a swordsman who fights in an underhanded way can only do so if he dares cheat within blade’s reach of the opponent he wrongs.

We love the sword because of the romanticism attached to a fighter who will stand his ground when evil is close enough to literally crush him. We resonate with the sword as a weapon that stands for truth, just as the Biblical Sword of the Spirit is God’s word—something to be wielded with skill and strength as part of our defense against our enemies, and more importantly, in the winning of a lost world. Whether the enduring appreciation of the sword is culturally generated, spiritually ingrained, or a little of both, there is no denying the subtle mystique that surrounds the weapon itself. And even more so, the one who wields it.

Last week we almost didn’t have the reading group at my church; I was battling a cold and I believe God helped me recover just in time to have a fantastic, and prolonged, discussion about Aslan. Good and evil themes are increasing in LWW, and in these chapters we see even more clearly the distinction between the two — along with God-exalting, reality-reflecting truths of what really causes evil, and the seriousness of fighting it.

Chapter 9: In the Witch’s House

1. After readers stay with the three Pevensie children, and Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, in the previous chapter, do you appreciate that after the break (and “There’s not a moment to lose” cliffhanger) that the author immediately answers what all readers surely want to know: What happened to Edmund and where is he? How would you feel if Lewis instead resumed at the Beavers’ lodge to show them all preparing to escape? A bit let down?
2. Lewis doesn’t leave us to wonder about what Edmund is thinking. Instead he explains Edmund’s motives in great detail. Does this make Edmund’s attitude better or worse?
3. “She was jolly nice to me, anyway, much nicer than they are. I expect she is the rightful Queen really. Anyway, she’ll be better than that awful Aslan!” At least, that was the excuse he made in his own mind for what he was doing. It wasn’t a very good excuse, however, for deep down inside him he really knew that the White Witch was bad and cruel.(page 89)
   • Whoa! Edmund isn’t “misunderstood,” or even deceived — he is actively deceiving himself, despite what he himself knows to be true! Might that startle us?
   • How does this compare with other stories’ villains who are themselves lied to, or being controlled, or otherwise have something good about them deep down inside? How often do some stories show villains who somehow can’t help what they do? How often do other stories more clearly show villains who are truly, gladly evil?
   • Does this mean Edmund can’t be redeemed? What would it take to stop his lies?
4. How does Edmund’s trouble in the winter make you feel? What do you think about his imaginations to re-make the world of Narnia how he thinks it should be?
5. 

   “Use the harness without bells.” Yet where did the White Witch get her reindeer-drawn sleigh idea?

   When Edmund arrives in the Witch’s courtyard, how do you react to his mockery of the stone lion? Why doesn’t it work? “The great stone beast still looked so terrible, and sad, and noble, staring up in the moonlight” (page 96). How does this make you feel?

6. Similarly, recall the first time you read this spooky scene. (The 2005 film showed it very well, but use your own imagination!) How does this make you feel, and keep reading?
7. Edmund doesn’t seem surprised by the Witch’s angry reaction. Why not? Do you want to yell at him? Or, perhaps, might you nod your head soberly and say, “Yes, this is exactly how it is when we’re sinning, committing treason against God, and knowing it”?

Chapter 10: The Spell Begins to Break

1. What do you think about Mrs. Beaver’s comical reluctance to leave the lodge without over-packing? Is this mainly for fun, or for some Deeper Meaning, or another reason?
2. (The movie made this clear, yet the book is subtler.) What makes them worried about the bells they hear? Did you notice the difference between the last line of the previous chapter, when the Witch says, “Make ready our sledge … and use the harness without bells” (page 99)? Who truly used the sleigh and reindeer first — her, or Father Christmas? How else do evil people often steal and try to corrupt good ideas and things?
3. According to Father Christmas, who just “got in” to Narnia again, who weakens the Witch’s magic — the hope the children brought, or the fact that “Aslan is on the move”?
4. Why do the children respect Father Christmas as if he’s a saint, with spiritual authority?
5. 

   “Merry Christmas! Long live the true King!”

   Receiving gifts, like special weapons, is a common theme in fantasy tales. How is such a moment usually presented? Here Father Christmas says, “These are your presents … and they are tools not toys. The time to use them is perhaps near at hand. Bear them well” (page 108). How might this help us think of our own gifts, or even real weapons?

6. This story entertains, yet also has serious moments like these. Why do you think that is?
7. Why do you think Father Christmas says to Susan, “I do not mean you to fight in the battle,” and to Lucy, “You also are not to be in the battle” (pages 108-109). Does he mean they aren’t capable of bravery or skill? But he says, “That is not the point … battles are ugly when women fight” (page 109). That is his reason. By contrast, are battles notugly when men fight? What do you think he means by this? And is it a Biblical concept?
   • By contrast, the second recent Narnia film, Prince Caspian, threw Susan and even Lucy into battle with the boys and creatures. Did this seem realistic or good?

First, please notice I said challenging, not critiquing, the indie imagination — that is, the current growth of Christian-speculative publishers with independent owners and editorial oversight. For this discussion, I have Grace Bridges, founder of Splashdown Books, to thank for the — if you will excuse the word — inspiration.

Here’s what Grace said, on Twitter July 5:

So you want to be an Indie Publisher – Overview of the job, by Grace Bridges http://pinterest.com/pin/9485713587 …

This summarizes how Splashdown Books’ publishing platform works and encourages others about how to replicate this method. Yet I began wondering …

EStephenBurnett: RT @gracebridges: “So you want to be an Indie Publisher … http://bit.ly/NEDKBM ” I must ask: why not instead submit to Splashdown, MLP, etc.?

… Already I keep finding new indie publishers for Christian SF; do we need more, and oughtn’t some combine their resources? @GraceBridges

GraceBridges: @EStephenBurnett Someone looking at the workload might prefer to leave it to us! But the more the merrier. Just gotta know what’s involved.

EStephenBurnett: Well, as a reader, I prefer fewer publishers with more editors at each one. Less to keep track of in a distraction-prone age! @GraceBridges

GraceBridges: @EStephenBurnett Ah, but we all do things so differently. We each have our own vision and pick entirely different stories even in one genre.

EStephenBurnett: @gracebridges Again simply speculating (surprise!): I wonder if that might fit with different imprints under one roof. Better for marketing.

But then one must decide which editor/publisher will Be Boss; that gets tricky. Still, wait 30 years — someone will be anyway.

GraceBridges: @EStephenBurnett Other pubs don’t want my stuff and I don’t want theirs, mostly. A conglomerate smells too traditional to me. Diehard indie!

Come to think of it, I suppose I am not a diehard indie. I must be so independent, I’m even independent of indies. If you say “indie,” I think first of Marion Ravenwood yelling it. Then (fairly or unfairly) I see dark-rimmed glasses, iThings, scarves, and Brian McLaren.

Whoever writes or publishes them, I only desire epic stories — not just for the sake of being “weird,” or to stick it to the shallow moralistic-inspirational complex, but for God’s glory.

Is that contradictory to the indie imagination? Surely not.

Later, editor and writer Cathilyn Dyck offered some necessary facts:

CLDyck: @EStephenBurnett @gracebridges From a writer’s perspective: MLP [Marcher Lord Press] and Splashdown have very busy submission queues.

In the sci-fi Golden Age (1940s-1960s) tons of indies printed from basements. This is a renaissance time.

And here’s how the discussion spun off on my Facebook page. Some of this is inevitable “shop talk” for aspiring authors. But I’m more interested in readers’ reactions to this.

Adam Ross: I agree, resources ought to be combined. But then, MLP [Marcher Lord Press] has been closed to submissions for a while, given the overwhelming amount [founder and editor Jeff Gerke] has had to work through.

E. Stephen Burnett: Again proving there’s a glut of manuscripts.

But doesn’t this make the case that two or three editors, working for MLP (or another group) rather than two or three separate publishers, could sort through the pile more quickly?

[…]

Adam Ross: Yeah, having more than just Jeff over at MLP would be great. Could it pay for several editors? Unknown. But we really are scattering our efforts – a sort of divide and fail-to-be-noticed policy, if you will.

E. Stephen Burnett: ‎”But we really are scattering our efforts – a sort of divide and fail-to-be-noticed policy, if you will.”

That’s what this sort-of outsider notices. And I find it very difficult to keep up with all the different little publishers that have sprung up. Just found a new one the other day: great site, guidelines, and repertoire.

Part of this is that I also don’t understand the “indie” mindset. I’m not a megachurch horde-collector. Still, if “the more the merrier” is true, coordinating little efforts into one great effort can only help the *genre* and thus can give maximum glory to the God of the true Epic Story — that should be the chief end, right?

E. Stephen Burnett: Again I wonder what Rebecca Miller might think about this topic, if she’s willing and able to share. She’s been at this business for much longer than I began seriously thinking about it.

E. Stephen Burnett: ‎… And not only because, if this conversation continues — and with the permission of its FB participants — I’ll cheat for Wednesday’s column and quote its entirety.

Adam Ross: On the one hand I support the diversification of the marketplace (with this many publishers, some of them will start challenging the immensely irritating “no swears” policy – like at MLP – but with the speculative genre so small already in the Christian market we really are going to start fighting over the same scraps and, I fear, dilute the market with such lackluster material that instead of increasing its viability, will push it further to the fringe, niche market.

E. Stephen Burnett: This very conversation is an example of slightly diverse interests coming together to promote a common cause. I believe that already the diverse authors, bloggers, editors, and publishers are doing that well, very well — to each other. The key is marketing. Web designer’s tip: don’t have three or four different blogs or websites. That confuses people. Consolidate. Put it all at one domain name. All under one slogan and logo. That’s why we need fewer publishers and websites: not just to be a bigger, meaner, more-cutthroat Mega-Corporate Operation, but for the sake of serving readers — to cut through readers’ distractions.

Watch this next. Here’s a cyber-friend of mine (we were on the same side during a massive doctrinal discussion), who’s been my friend for months, and still hasn’t yet seen my many Spec-Faith updates and posts about books, authors, and publishers.

[Name]: Who if anyone publishes true sf with a christian bent?

[…] E. Stephen Burnett: Marcher Lord Press, Splashdown Books, Port Yonder Press, and Risen Books, just to name a few!

[Name]: Thanks bro, really!

Moral: I doubt we truly realize how much internet/media clutter is out there, and about how many “indie” publishing efforts simply go ignored.

Finally, some thoughts from speculative-novel editor and longtime blogger Rebecca Miller.

Rebecca LuElla Miller:  Stephen, I’ve suggested to a couple of the brains behind small presses that they throw their hats into the same ring. One of those is no more. That may be the way of things. Some will fade away and die and there will be only a handful of viable houses, struggling though they might be.

I’d at least think some of these would want to talk, but who makes the first move? Whose business model do you use? There might be some issues independents think too important to compromise. I don’t know. I think it would have to help the genre, but I don’t know about the individual houses.

Even as I was assembling this piece, more from Grace, and Kristine Pratt of Written World Communications — a completely new name to me, despite my familiarity(?) with the “biz.”

Grace Bridges: Well, combining is a great idea in theory, but I still think we are all way too different for it to ever work. I love Chila, Kristine, Jeff, and I think they are doing wonderful things, but their vision is not mine.

Kristine Pratt: Hey don’t forget the OtherSheep imprint at Written World Communications does Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror. Grace is right – our visions all do differ. For example, Jeff over at MLP won’t touch horror while the first two books that came out with OtherSheep were just that. (We have Sci Fi and Fantasy under contract as well). I don’t think it’s wrong to have diversity with numerous publishers looking for Christian spec fic of all varieties. I think we’re actually raising awareness for each other and building a larger market with our efforts. *grins* I’ll be quiet now, I just happened to come late to the party!

(I will need to leave out any further discussion on there; this piece can only go so long.)

So, what might we have missed? What are the pros and cons of indie presses? How do these reach or fail to reach readers? Have you personally heard of the presses named here? What about their novels, authors, or websites? Finally, I re-ask: what is the purpose of Story?