I’m usually late in getting to the movies (if I go at all), and so despite the fact that it’s been out for a month, and despite the fact that I’ve been an X-Men fan since being hooked on the Fox animated series back in the ’90s, I just saw X-Men: First Class last night.

What this movie did really, really well: character.

X-Men has always stood out for its characters. They’re conflicted, sympathetic, fallible, and constantly changing. Even in the kids’ cartoons, the X-Men metanarrative doesn’t do shallow or trite. And First Class did a fantastic job of showing that: of exploring the events that make men and women who they are, for good or for ill.

As an editor, I sometimes have to challenge writers on this: “So okay, all this nifty/scary/funny/exciting stuff happens–but how does it affect the characters? How does it shape them, challenge them, change them?”

Until you’re writing about characters, you’re not really writing a story. You’re writing a news report. Readers might get caught up in the excitement, but until the story really connects with its people (or mutants, ghosts, dinosaurs, anthropomorphic animals, and other speculative stand-ins for people), we don’t really care.

Why is that? Well, because despite what scientists would like us to believe (blind chance and all that), our universe is personal. It was created by a living Being, a personal God who breathed his Spirit into Adam and made him a living soul. At the heart of our world is Trinity, individuality, family–character, and characters.

When I think back to my favourite books (Christian spec fic and otherwise) the ones I love most are those where I most deeply connected with the characters. They got under my skin, spoke to me, challenged me, personality to personality. Maybe that’s why Jesus didn’t just speak in abstractions, but clothed his teaching in human skin: the prodigal son, the good Samaritan, the rich man who stored up all his possessions in barns and then died, discovering himself to be completely impoverished.

Tell me what you think: what is it about character that makes stories matter?

There was a minor brouhaha in the science fiction world last week. It went something like this:

1.  The table of contents for Solaris Rising, an annual SF anthology from a British publisher, was posted.

2. Someone noticed there were only a couple of stories by female authors on the list.

3. Accusations of gender bias were leveled at the editor.

4. Flame war ensued.

5. After the smoke cleared, the general consensus was that the editor wasn’t, at least consciously, guilty of gender bias against female authors, but there was a larger problem of sexism in science fiction publishing, a genre where women have had less success getting published and winning awards than men (Some strong language in these linked posts).

So, how about us? Do we have the same problem in Christian science fiction? We’ve talked a lot here about a perceived feminine domination of Christian fiction in general, but does that extend into Christian speculative fiction–specifically science fiction? Or, is that flavor of literature as much a gentleman’s club for Christian writers as it seems to be for secular writers?

I’m curious. I’m occasionally told that I write like a girl. I plugged an excerpt from my novel into one of those writing style analysis programs, and it said I write like Margaret Atwood, author of The Handmaid’s Tale. I’ve even considered submitting to a couple of ladies-only anthologies under a female pen name, just to see if I could pass. Hey, it worked for the Bronte sisters…

The gender-bias issue seems like a two-edged sword. There may very well be a subtle prejudice against women writers among science fiction publishers, but that also makes successful women science fiction writers a minority, and for that reason, a little exotic–a little more interesting. When’s the last time you saw an anthology explicitly dedicated to stories from bald, middle-aged men living in the Midwest U.S.?

Yeah, me neither.

Because of the Fourth of July, the USA’s Independence Day, there will be no Spec Faith article today.

Feel free to hang out in the library. Just a reminder, this feature is still under construction. We have loaded only a fraction of our collection of titles, so your patience as we get the bugs out and the books up, is greatly appreciated.

Those of you here in the US, enjoy your holiday celebrations.

“The Doldrums is the region of calm winds, centered slightly north of the equator and between the two belts of trade winds, which meet there and neutralize each other.”

I suppose it was about four years ago that the last volume of my Lamb among the Stars trilogy came out. For a few weeks I waited for the world to applaud but instead all I heard was a rather awkward silence.

Not entirely of course: there were fantastic reviews on Amazon with some favourable (but unmerited) comparisons to C. S. Lewis and Tolkien , much praise on a very long Facebook page specifically created by my fans and lots of encouraging e-mails. But that was that. There were no publishers e-mail asking about my next work, no agents clamouring to take on my case, no sniffs of interest from Messrs Spielberg or Cameron.

I gradually began draft my epitaph on the series: I had written an epic too full of Christianity for the world of science fiction and too full of science-fiction for the Christian world. I had, inadvertently but foolishly, positioned myself neatly between two stools.

The Infinite Day (2008)

So what did I do? The answer readers, is nothing.  I should say that by this time I had acquired a full-time teaching job, was an elder in a church and a fairly frequent lay preacher so, in the absence of encouragement, it wasn’t hard to put aside the writing. Over the next few years I did accumulate piles of notes but nothing much else. I found myself battling about what genre to write in.

Another epic fantasy series? Hard to market; trilogies are risky for publishers as each successive volume tends to have lower sales.

Straight science fiction? Poor sales and reality keeps trumping invention.

A contemporary novel? But who is interested in the petty dramas of this part of South Wales? And anyway to try and represent the vulgar vernacular of our streets for a Christian audience is very difficult indeed.

A historical novel?  My history is not so wonderful and it all seems to have been done.

Eventually I settled on an idea: an alternative history – one in which a key event in our world had not happened in the way it did. The idea is good, so good that I do not want to give a hint at what it involves, lest someone else take it, and I am now working on it. But I haven’t got very far: probably no more than a quarter of the way through of even a first draft. But it looks good and this time it’s going press all the buttons. Forget the slow brooding start; let’s have killings on the second page.

Yet even now I find it hard work. Of course, I try and teach with enthusiasm and that means that I don’t have a lot of energy left for writing after I have finished with the marking and the lesson preparation.  Yet it is more than that; in analysing why I find writing hard work I have identified three dangers. Let me list them and maybe you can identify with them.

1) Discouragement. It’s all too easy to wonder whether it’s really all worthwhile.  I am little known as an author in the UK and so I have rarely had the energising experience of going into a bookshop where my books are visible, or of seeing people read my books on trains. One of the results of this is the act of writing seems insignificant: the most insubstantial of activities.  I can easily ask myself whether I should be doing something more important.

2) Distraction. Yes, there is the day job which brings its burdens (and occasional pleasures), but I also have a wife and a church fellowship that I am involved with. I also have lots of other interests; books, music, photography.  I write articles for church magazines and lately have been consulted about the geology of Lebanon, on which arcane topic I’m still something of an expert. Sometimes whole days have sped by without me even thinking about working on the book.

3) Displacement. This I fear is the big one. There have been many occasions where I have made time to sit at the computer and have started typing. Yet inevitably before very long something else demands my attention and I cease writing. I call this alternative action a ‘displacement activity’ and I’m not sure whether this is technically correct. You know the sort of thing: you are struggling to shape a sentence, or paragraph and then it comes to you in an instant that you absolutely must at this very moment update some software, clean your desk, reply to an e-mail or check out a website and very soon your wife is standing over your shoulder and saying ‘you know dear we really ought to go to bed’ and you’ve written two sentences. I have even spent time searching on the Web to see if anybody has come up with a way of preventing displacement activities.

One very peculiar form of displacement activity is I think especially common with fantasy although I suppose it occurs with historical fiction. It is to become engrossed in preparing the details and background for your story. It can occur with people, place and plot.  So without giving too much away in my new book the plot is essentially a three hander about well, let’s call them A, B and C.  So I start describing A but in doing that I feel I have to put in how A relates to his colleagues, D and E.  And B? I need to work out how she relates to her friends F and G.  C? Here the issue is she bullies H and I. And so the notes grow. There are other areas where little voice keeps asking you for more information. Where exactly is that house? How did he get that job? In the world I am describing how would the tax system, the railways, newspapers work?

Very soon you have filled books full not of writing but of the details of your new universe. (Of course, if you are Tolkien you have also invented several new languages as well.) Now don’t get me wrong, details are important and add depth to narrative. But we can’t cover everything and most readers don’t expect it. For instance unless memory is playing tricks with me, Tolkien says absolutely nothing about the economics and currency of Middle Earth and I have never heard anybody complain about this. (It could of course be commented with sarcasm that economists are too preoccupied with their own fantasies to bother reading other people’s.)

So how do I get defeat these three perils? I suppose all three could be dispelled by a healthy advance; an experiment I am willing to try should the investor be found. But in the meantime let me suggest the lines of attack that I am trying.

With regard to discouragement, I appeal to the truth that because we are made in God’s image and he is a creator, creating is what I made to do. I tell myself that whether my current work is published or not is irrelevant: I write because I am a child of God and this is an itch he has given me that I must scratch. And anyway to create is better than to consume.

With regard to distraction, I can do nothing but be determined to soldier on but I am comforted by the hints that this is a temptation that our Lord knew.  In Luke 9:51 we read ‘As the time approached for him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem.’ The last phrase in Greek is ‘set his face’ which I am told is a Semitic idiom that speaks of a firm unshakeable resolve to do something (Genesis 31:21; Isaiah 50:7).

Displacement? Isn’t this perhaps the chief strategy of Satan for the church? To always be doing that good which is the enemy of the best? Perhaps here I need to hear the advice written in Hebrews 12:1,2. ‘Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.’

I also live in hope. I believe that writing is like driving a car. It takes the efforts of the starter motor to get the engine firing but once that happens you are soon on your way. In my experience writing can be like that: you take time to create living characters and then eventually they live. You set them loose on the plot and all you have to do is describe what they get up to. That’s the theory.

I could expand on this but I won’t. You must excuse me: I have a book to write.

If you are a parent who thinks most stories for children should be as “normal” as possible …

Or a pastor, small-group leader, or teacher, who simply doesn’t get this “fantasy” thing …

Or a reader or even an author of Christian visionary tales who believes such genres are for mainly “niche” readers, suitable only for e-books or self-publishing or other indie efforts …

I have a few names for you.

And you may also soon notice I don’t even need to invoke the Patron Saints of Visionary Fiction, St. Lewis and St. Tolkien, until later.

Naming names

• Dante’s Divine Comedy (14th century), which takes Scriptures about rebels’ fate in Hell and adds speculation (nine “circles” of punishment), then does the same with Heaven.
• Milton’s Paradise Lost (1667), another supernatural-laced poem, about the fall of man.
• Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress (1678), one of the most popular books ever, and original: pure allegories for sin, the Christian life, etc., mixed with literal elements such as Christ.
• George MacDonald and G.K. Chesterton (late 19th and early 20th century): authors in many different genres, from nonfiction and philosophy, to speculative stories.
• And, yes, the patron saints of Christian visionary fiction: J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, both of whom, though they did not set out to write allegory, nonetheless gave the world fantastic fiction imbuing Biblical themes and truths — Tolkien in his epic creation of an amazing world, Lewis most popularly for his “simple” “children’s” stories that asked as “supposals” what would happen if Christ were involved in another magical land.

Perhaps too many Christians jump past their spiritual ancestors’ rich history of speculative stories in favor of the Patron Saints — just as I may have missed several between, say, Dante and Bunyan! Lots of folks, as Becky Miller observed, like to say things like “so-and-so is the next C.S. Lewis,” or perhaps print “in the tradition of C.S. Lewis” on their books’ front covers. Who, though, would include “in the tradition of Milton” on their book covers?

Maybe authors avoid that because it sounds more high-falutin’. Maybe it was St. Lewis’s and even Tolkien’s mass popularity, along with their academic gifts, that adds to their appeal.

Regardless, Christians today don’t even need to hark back to church history or to St. Lewis to prove the near-omnipresence of fantasy storytelling in even the most cloistered sectors of evangelicaldom. How can I say that? With personal proof, and more names:

• Psalty the Singing Songbook (1980s and early ‘90s). I am not kidding. A humanoid book, full of praise for the Lord, which he endorsed in that memorable, quacking sort of voice that covered for Ernie Rettino’s actual vocal artistry (for years I never knew Psalty and that other singing voice were the same guy). Yes, quite realistic: a humanoid book bouncing about cassette-tape universes to generate musicals with hordes of nameless children. But then they made it even more fantastic, for in tape 7, Psalty invented a time machine. Hear any complaints from conservative churches? Later the creators tried another series, about a talking salamander who was granted by God with the power to fly. Still think speculative stuff is just a niche genre new to popular evangelical culture?
• Adventures in Odyssey. Again I thought about this Focus on the Family-produced audio drama series (began in 1987) when I read that Wayne Thomas Batson, author of The Door Within trilogy, was writing an AiO tie-in novel about an Imagination Station adventure involving pirates. Ha ha! The Imagination Station, a holodeck/TARDIS-like device enabling children to travel in time (sort of) to participate in Biblical accounts or American history, was just one of AiO’s fantasy/sci-fi elements. Others included spies, supervillains, cyber-warfare, mind control (I didn’t much like that story arc), and, most intense of all, an evil scientist who tried to use the Imagination Station to gain eternal life, after almost imprinting himself on the brain of a hostage. Yeah … niche.
• VeggieTales (1990s-present). Talking vegetables. Bible adaptations (often with wild deviations from the source). Sci-fi machines and fantasy-level worlds even for them. …

So how did they make it?

I could go on. In future columns I might. And in those columns, I’ll likely explore a Unifying Theory as to how these things “got through” to people while other speculative stories got stuck in the presses. Yes, those last three were mainly for children, but I don’t think that’s the only common factor. I could throw in the Left Behind series to throw it off. Instead …

The most popular Christian speculative stories seem to have met a conscious need for the Church but also surpassed mere pragmatism in their quality level.

For instance, Psalty fulfilled a need for Resources centered on real worship of God, from the heart, and fun stories and songs besides. (“If it’s not from your heart, it’s not praise! And that makes me sad! Wahhh!”) And AiO gave Wholesome Entertainment for children, yes, with Moral Values, but with memorable characters, settings and stories — and almost no songs — that made it clear this was more than just The Christian Alternative. Adults loved it.

Do new visionary stories remind Christians of this long tradition in church history distant and recent, while also marketing their uniquenesses and how they fulfill Christians’ needs?

“Wow! Actual wholesome Christian fantasy!” is no longer a unique slogan.

Neither should Christian writers feel they must opt only for self-publishing or e-books or niche marketing. I don’t say this is bad, just that it may not be exclusive. The perception that most Christians are closed to fantasy is simply wrong. Perhaps they’re more closed to fantasy that seems derivative, or that doesn’t show how it meets a perceived need and surpasses it.

That leads to how Speculative Faith will seek not only to talk about this need, but address it.

“I’ve hired you to help me start a war. It’s a prestigious line of work, with a long and glorious tradition.”

Enter the Library

Amazon and other online retailers are great. Advantage: you can actually buy books, often cheaper than anywhere else; and you can read reviews. Disadvantage: it sells everything. If you’re looking for Christian visionary novels, they’ll get lost among everything else.

How about your Christian bookstore, real-life or online? You can browse easily enough, often searching for titles by the same author of overall genre. Disadvantage: you can’t find similar books easily with specific elements. “I loved this fantasy novel with portals, pirates, and poachers. Has anyone else written about those?” Or: “Has anyone written a book that combines the steampunk genre and medieval and allegory and mutant-fish-superheroes?”

Behold the Speculative Faith Library, still in progress, yet done enough to soft-launch today.

1. Browse for books, authors, and story elements, with a separate library-only search engine and complete lists of authors and novel titles. Everything is sort-able, from A to Z, to newest, to most discussed, and by author and specific series.
2. Sort by BookTags and find genres, elements, themes, and series. Like dragon stories? Find only books that contain the dragons BookTag. Favor books with science fiction today? Search for the science fiction BookTag.
3. Interact! No silence in this Library. Sign up for updates when a new book is posted, post reviews, or ask questions; and with the new Suggestion Box, let us know of any errors or if you think your favorite author or novel should appear in the Library.

And within days we’ll also have the Library combined with this Speculative Faith blog, giving you even more worlds to explore within this premiere portal for Christian visionary fiction.

The doors have opened. Don’t mind the settling dust. All your favorite God-glorifying, old-truths-in-new-ways visionary stories, all in one network of cyber-shelves. Enter the Library.

Happy Wednesday!

Well, I’ll tell you what’s happened over the last two weeks. First, I’ve finished off my insanely long Doctor Who series. Second, I had to have my OS reinstalled and I’m still trying to put everything back into place. Third, I felt a bit ill for a couple days. Fourth, and most interesting, I had discovered though someone’s Facebook invitation that Steven James was speaking in San Antonio and attended that seminar over the weekend.

I’m on record saying God laughs, most of the time, and regularly at my expense. He has his own way of speaking to each of us, and, well, more often than not he uses images and storytelling to make his point with me. But often we don’t really notice when he’s teaching us until he informs us of the test results. Because, you know, he is that good.

Well, he certainly had a thing or two say to me, more than I can really reduce down to a blog post: things on presumption and pride, selfishness and forgiveness, divine appointment and humility. All of it, though really bundled into maintaining a teachable spirit.

For instance, two weeks ago, I made some comments about violence in Doctor Who. In general, my assumption has been that our culture has become so saturated in it that we’re desensitized to it. However, at the seminar, Mr. James made the comment that “We live in a culture of muted violence.” For example, a newscast might spend twenty seconds on a flood that resulted in thousands of people dead, wounded, and/or homeless, but immediately switch over and spend fifteen minutes on sports or celebrity gossip. He went on to say that “the reason tragedies don’t shatter us is because our hearts our frozen.” If “tragedy is a matter of proximity,” then our job is to bring that tragedy as close to the reader’s face as possible, to shatter the ice, as it were.

It was a new way to look at it, at least for me.

Teachability.

I had a history teacher in high school who was always studying his field. One of us asked him about that one day, and he said, “I’ll tell you what my professor told me: ‘I’d rather you learn from a flowing stream than a stagnant pond.'”

For me, being a Christian as long as I have leaves me forever on the edge of a heart that says, “You can’t teach me anything from this book that I don’t know. I know everything there is to glean from Scriptures.” And I’m learning the more comfortable I get in a particular field: writing, tutoring, substitute teaching, editing…The danger is to think I’ve learned it all and haven’t anything else to learn from anyone else, for my heart to turn to stone. At that point, I’m useless to everyone. I’m not listening to God, so he can’t teach what I won’t learn. And I’m no use to anyone else because even if I had something to say, who’s going to listen?

Teachability.

One thing (among many) I’ve learned by people watching is that even writers with dozens of books under their belt and a steady, sustainable business are always learning, always honing, always improving. The process is alive, in constant motion, churning, twisting, rising, falling, so that everything in and around it feels its presence.

We’re always learning. My favorites are the books written for the sheer challenge, for the success of something new, untested, untried. If they fail, they fail. But when they succeed, they’re awe-inspiring.

So, time for something new, at least from me.

What are you reading?
What’s inspired, influenced, or altered your perspective?
What are you learning?
Moreover, who’s your teacher?

Enjoy the day.

The Rowling

(with apologies to Edgar Allan Poe)

Once upon an evening weary, as my eyes grew red and bleary,
Surfing ‘cross the net for news, an awful, tedious, dreadful chore
Suddenly there came a pinging—an alarum gently ringing
Some neglected RSS feed that I’d never checked before
So, in drowsy boredom drooping, idly I went a-snooping
Snooping for some hopeful fragment of intriguing, novel lore
Clicked the link—t’was Pottermore!

There, a gentle, smiling image
J.K. Rowling’s placid visage
Greeted me with promises of wonders I’d ne’er seen before
Interactive new adventures, hints at innovative ventures
E-books, fanfic, member forums, beta testing, focus quorums
Secrets never shared by Harry, Voldemort, or Dumbledore
Coming soon to Pottermore

In a daze, I scanned the website
Watching origami ow-ls take flight
Flying over magic tomes with letters peeling by the score
How, I pondered, can she do this?
Is she mad, or merely clueless?
Self-publishing? A peddler in some thinly-veiled online store
By the name of Pottermore?

Still, despite my frantic raving
Spittle flying, arms a-waving
Shattering the peace that reigned within my private office door
Shouting, “Is this merely madness?
Is there any hope of gladness
Bringing to self-publishing a luster it’s not known before?”
Still she murmured, “Pottermore”

No more publishers or agents
Editors or drones to rage at
Maybe she could skip the middleman and make a buck or four
So, I gazed upon the image
Mused upon the peaceful visage
Of that author who had found success so many times before
Calmly pitching Pottermore

It may be the tide is turning
Protocols are ripe for burning
Burning that will make us wonder what the future has in store
Will status quo return again?
Or literary chaos reign?
Perhaps, a brand-new paradigm that shakes us to our very core
Heralded by Pottermore

Yesterday I was reminded of an important principle in relationships — establishing trust.

Author and apologist Ravi Zacharias aired an interview on his radio broadcast with his son about a trip he took to India. He’d been invited to discuss a somewhat limited topic in a secular setting — which he proceeded to do. Later, when asked why he didn’t launch into a discussion of what he believed about Christianity, he said that he wanted to respect the organizers of the event and to stay within the parameters of the prescribed subject.

Rather than seizing the opportunity to speak before so many unsaved people for his own purposes — godly though they were — he honored those who had invited him and spoke to their issue.

When the president of the organization heard this, he invited Ravi back for an entire week with no limits on what he could discuss. His self-restraint built trust.

Ravi’s experience got me to thinking about building trust.

Why should one friend listen to the advice of another friend? Or a writer accept the suggestions of a critique partner? Why should a congregant pay attention to what a minister says, or a non-Christian heed the message of a missionary? Why, in fact, should a reader be swayed by what a writer believes, especially by what a fiction writer believes?

Trust.

Something causes one person to value the word of another person. Often that something is met expectations.

A friend recommends a certain e-reader and it turns out to be just right. Or an editor gives recommended changes, and clearly the manuscript is better by including them. A supplier promises delivery on a certain date, and he comes through on time.

For the novelist? The bottom line is creating an awesome story. When a piece of fiction delivers, a reader quickly becomes the author’s fan because readers want good stories.

We want to visit new places, or familiar haunts; we want to be surprised by what happens, or intrigued. We want our curiosity piqued, then satisfied; our hopes for the character met; our fears calmed.

And somewhere, as readers’ expectations are met, as we lose ourselves in a grand story, we come to trust the writer. We are ready, then, to hear what the story is all about.

But what the story is all about isn’t front and center. The story is front and center. The meaning of the story reveals itself subtly and perhaps after the reading, during the pondering period, when the reader closes the book after the last page.

As an author consistently meets expectations, readers are more willing to listen.

All this seems important to me as more and more Christian speculative fiction writers are looking to e-publish, self-publish, or publish with a general market house rather than with a Christian one.

In many ways, the Christian who writes for the general market is no different than the Christian athlete who plays for a state university or for a professional team. The athletes that reporters interview, that fans follow on Twitter or whose Facebook pages they like, first must earn the right to speak by playing well. Without the playing-well component, no one would care if Dallas Maverick star Jason Terry or Denver Bronco quarterback Tim Tebow says he plays for God or because of God.

Publicist Rebeca Seitz (Glass Roads Public Relations) made a comment at the 2010 Mount Hermon Christian Writers’ Conference that, for good or ill, we live in a celebrity culture. With the growth in social networking, writers have been thrown into the celebrity mix.

Fans who once never saw any more of an author than their back-of-the-book picture and blurb or the occasional appearance at a book signing now have the opportunity to follow and friend and like.

What does that mean for Christians?

Nothing if we don’t build trust.

The same can be said about Christian speculative fiction as a whole, I think. If readers are to listen, no matter what publishing venue we might choose, we have to deliver.

What does “deliver” mean to you? What do you want to see in a speculative story that makes you trust the author? Inquiring minds, and all. 😉

“Far off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise…”

Belle’s description of her favorite book in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast has been a long-time favorite quote of mine. For me, it captures the essence of stories I love and of the speculative genre in general.

But as I penned those words today, intending to write about the necessity of truth in fiction, I at last understood why it captures the essence. Even more interestingly, it deals with four heart holes and the truths that fill them:

Far off places: This world is not our final destination. Whether or not we want to admit it, our hearts yearn for a better country. That’s why we restlessly move from place to place and job to job. That’s why we spend thousands of dollars in tourism and travel. This may even be why humanity suffers “the other side has greener grass” syndrome. We desperately want to believe there’s something better than the brown, withered stuff we’re always chomping on.

Speculative fiction offers hope of this other world, a place where wrong will fail and right prevail. After all, where would we come up with the crazy idea of other dimensions and places beyond Earth unless there’s something to it? Even our wildest imaginations are limited by what we know. But even more, spec fiction often promises that though this better world may be far away, it is not impossible to reach.

Daring sword fights: That far off, greener country might not be impossible to reach, but neither will the road be safe or easy. We will face opposition. We will have to fight. Oh, it may not be with swords or light sabers or phasers. That doesn’t make the battle—or the danger—any less real.

Sound like a thought our creature-comfort culture would avoid? Perhaps, on the surface. But in our hearts, we crave purpose. Purpose for living. Reasons to fight. Meaning behind trouble and suffering. Spec fiction’s “sword fights,” whatever form they may take, dares us to believe in something—or Someone—greater than ourselves and to believe picking up that sword and taking that dangerous journey is worthwhile.

Magic spells: While magic in its strictest sense is forbidden by Scripture, the natural realm was never intended to be enough for us. God made us for a relationship with Him; we were created for the supernatural, for life beyond the natural.

Spec fiction acknowledges this in ways few other genres can, admitting what modern science seems determined to disprove: our desire for the supernatural is perfectly natural, able to be filled only by One so completely beyond the natural that He was not created, but simply Is.

A Prince in disguise: “He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him.” (John 1:10)

All the other desires—a perfect world where right prevails, a purpose driven by something bigger than ourselves, a supernaturally filled life—culminate here: our need for a Ruler powerful enough to grant our desires and good enough to do so.

Such a Ruler terrifies us. It means we aren’t in control. It means we need to submit to another. It means we would owe Him everything, and being rebels at heart, we don’t want to give up everything. So to get close to us, the Ruler came in disguise, walking as one of us that we may know His love and true nature.

And though two thousand years have passed since then, many today still are wary of such a Ruler, despite their cravings for something more. So where better to meet a Prince in disguise than in those stories of far off places, daring sword fights, and magic spells?

– – – – –
Chawna Schroeder, winner of the 2008 ACFW Genesis Contest in the Sci-Fi/Fantasy/Allegory Category, spends her days working as a professional liar, better known to most people as an aspiring novelist. She loves spinning stories and fabricating fantastical tales for young adult readers about characters caught between two worlds—not to mention fiction writing provides the easiest explanation for her imaginary friends.

When Chawna isn’t working or meeting other novelists’ imaginary friends, you can usually find either her pouring over her studies in biblical Greek and Hebrew or helping others learn discernment, especially in media. Both her writing and studies find an additional outlet at her blog, Imagination Investigation.