Readers of The Story Peddler have told me about its heroine, “She felt so real.”

It’s a compliment for an author, I know. And when people tell me my character felt real, or that her struggles resonated, I smile. Say thank you. And I mean it.

But I don’t always reveal the full truth in that moment—the truth that she feels real because she is real. She is me.

Not every character I write is a direct reflection of me as a person, of course. And perhaps no single character is exactly like me. But the story people I get the most comments on are the ones in which I have buried a piece of my heart—the ones I’ve chosen to help me process something dark and difficult from real life.

This may seem somewhat obvious—that authors include themselves in their work. But here’s a strange expansion of this phenomenon that’s true for me and perhaps other authors: the intersection between my writing and my true story is the sharpest, most painful, and most poignant in my fiction.

In one of my devotional books, I explored the story of Tamar and Amnon. I wrote devotionals about sexual assault, abuse at the hands of a family member, consent, agency, finding God in the midst of that particular kind of suffering, and putting the pieces of a shattered life back together through God’s grace. I have written an essay with a stark description of the first time I experienced sexual assault as a preschooler. That essay is published in a book, and my name is attached to it.

I have written about the topic of sexual trauma in a factual, straightforward manner, no holds barred, no pseudonym in which to shroud myself and no buffer with which to protect myself. It’s out there, black and white, for anyone who wishes to read about it.

So how is it that pouring this sexual trauma history into a fictional character for the first time in The Story Raider was more difficult, more taxing, and yet more healing than any writing I’ve previously done on the subject?

Story is powerful—perhaps more powerful than we realize.

Shortly after The Weaver Trilogy was contracted, my editor and I had a discussion about the books’ titles. He loved my title for book one, The Story Peddler, and wanted each book in the series to contain the word “story.” That was the magic of the concept, after all.

While we have since changed the titles of books two and three for a variety of reasons, his original suggestion for book three, The Story Thief, spawned the creation of a supporting character in my mind almost immediately. And, almost immediately, I gave her my own real-life backstory.

The particulars were different, of course. But the emotional story is the same. Her character is a bleak study on the aftereffects of prolonged sexual abuse on a young person.

And as I drafted the sequel to The Story Peddler, called The Story Raider, under intense time pressure and during a very dark season in my life, I found myself deep in the heart of this very broken character—this very broken part of me.

I recall telling my best friend that I wasn’t sure if this character was going to be okay because I wasn’t okay.

How could I possibly write something happy or hopeful or remotely uplifting while simply trying to survive the real-life emotional onslaught myself? I cried my way through her scenes in Raider, became angry with myself when her storyline in book three was just one big cloud of fog I couldn’t decipher, and wondered more than once if I had a made a mistake to include her.

But that’s where the magic happens.

Through wrestling with her story, I was given a safe place to pour out the emotional turmoil of my own story. I got to try on different futures for her—different choices, different ways of processing the trauma. I got to experience interactions with her through my other characters’ eyes, and I began to understand what watching from afar must feel like for my loved ones.

I began to desperately seek hope for my fictional girl in a way that felt too risky, too big to first seek for myself.

Within the safe confines of fiction, through the distance of story, I was able to get closer to my trauma than I ever had before. And in that closeness, my past began to knit itself together in a way I hadn’t truly believed possible. My heart began to hope again.

Book three is written now. The fictional story begun by The Story Peddler is complete. Ultimately, my character had to make her own choices, deal with her own consequences, and struggle to find herself in a journey apart from mine.

But I know that through her story and the stories of countless other characters by countless other creators, people will discover the same healing I did. That is, perhaps, the sweetest twist of all: the gift of story is not meant only for the story’s author. In fact, it is not even meant primarily for the author.

Stories exist to entertain, to teach, to welcome the reader into a wondrous space to experience an emotional journey. Through the safety and wildness of fiction, through its simultaneous distance and closeness, readers are invited to process their own triumphs and heartbreaks. These stories—all stories—are for you and me and us.

Your invitation awaits.

Those things we’ve experienced ourselves inevitably shape what we write about. I’ve had many experiences that are uncommon–which I’d say is a mixed blessing, because while many of those events were horrible, all of them give me interesting things to write about. And one personal story relates to a serial killer, which I’m about to share here.

When I graduated with a BA in “Modern Foreign Language” from Metropolitan State College of Denver in 1995 (I studied Spanish, French, and German), I felt I had enough of living in Colorado. Though for me, “Colorado” was actually the Denver metropolitan area, the specific place in “the Rocky Mountain state” where I lived. I’d had enough of traffic, enough smog, enough bad driving in Denver the first serious snowfall of every winter, enough crime, etc. Etc.

I was eager to get back to my home state, Montana, which I was to a degree seeing through rose-colored glasses after 6 ½ years in CO. I mean, after all, it was a lack of a job in MT due to a generally poor economy there that had been one of my prime motivations for moving to Colorado in the first place.

In a combination of that rose-colored view along with some Evangelical idealism, I decided I would start a Christian school in Montana. Not that I’d ever taught full-time. Or even been certified as a teacher. Or had been an administrator. But I had energy, plans, and a lot of optimism (and an innate risk-taking personality).

Note that my plans included a lot on curricula and what to teach and how, but not a lot on how to pay the bills to make ends meet. So, after 2 years, the school I began in Dillon, Montana—picking that town not because I had ever lived there before, but because my brother-in-law was a pastor there—closed down due to a lack of funds. Sad for me, but true.

So, paying the bills for my family after that time meant working what jobs were available. Since I’d been trained as a medic in the Army, my best paying opportunity in Dillon was to work in a nursing home as a CNA, Certified Nurse Assistant, a.k.a. an orderly, a.k.a. a professional bottom-wiper. ?

My last comment reveals some of my humor about what I did—I actually did hate it at first, in part because of a sense of pride in how supposedly bright I am with so many big ideas, and there I was doing that. While failing at the school taught me some of the humility I was lacking (some, because I can always use some more humility), working at the nursing home eventually had an even stronger positive effect on me.

I learned how to really love people in a way I’d never experienced before. To show kindness. To extend mercy.

The nursing home industry (and the nursing profession in general) was and still is dominated by women. I was one of the few men to work as a CNA in Dillon, Montana. And the one clear advantage I had over every woman I ever worked with as a Nurse Aid was I could lift more weight with less strain. Very handy when dealing with heavy patients.

So after working there for three years or so (I spent five years total working in a nursing home and as a home health aid in Dillon), I sometimes was put on a shift for the sole purpose of giving baths. I could get nursing home residents in and out of the tub quicker, with less risk to me and less risk to the resident than pretty much anyone else who worked there.

Bathing residents was a different experience that working the nursing home floor–there, we CNAs were usually in pairs and most of the rooms had multiple people in them. It was not all that often that I was truly alone with a patient. But in the room I bathed patients, we were there by ourselves, the resident and I, with a type of bath that had jacuzzi jets. Nobody outside heard anything we said in there.

One of the residents in the nursing home had the exact same name as an entertainer who had been famous in the early part of the 20th Century (and he’s still a household name). He of course joked about his name often. For the sake of telling this (true) story, let me call him “Jimmy”–which wasn’t his actual name, but was close enough.

I was giving Jimmy a bath and he’d mentioned to me previously that he was a veteran of World War II. And since I had learned to engage the people I worked for in conversation and to get to know them as people (and also was curious about the Second World War), I was asking Jimmy questions about his war experience, where he had been, what it had been like, things like that.

Jimmy wasn’t extremely talkative with me in general, but after a bit on that particular evening, he opened up and spoke about his time in France, including shortly after the Germans were defeated there. I don’t in fact remember his exact words, but I’m going to recreate something he eventually said as best as I can recall it:

“So you know that after the war, we realized that a lot of those French girls had been with the Germans.” He said all this in a gruff, raspy voice shaped by decades of smoking (the consequences of which eventually killed him).

“Ah, yeah, I suppose they were…you know, doing what it takes to make it in the world. But how did you know for sure?”

“Well, I slept with one of them French girls. And afterwards I saw she had a whole bunch of jewels. And those French people were so poor then, I knew she had to have been with one of them Germans. They gave her the jewels.”

“So then what happened?”

Not what “Jimmy” looked like, but close enough. (Russian serial killer Mikhail Popkov, image credit, www.rt.com)

“I killed her! Strangled her. And then I took the jewels.”

I didn’t know what to say. Though I imagine my mouth was open.

“Yeah, she had it coming, helping those damn Jerries! But then I found other girls the same as her. Those that had no jewels I knew were good, but the rich ones I knew had been collaborating with the Germans. So I killed them. And took their jewels. But they deserved it!”

I still had no words.

Public sentiment against women who had consorted with Germans ran high in France in 1944. The typical response though was to forcibly shave their heads, so they’d be known in public. Image credit: rarehistoricalphotos.com

“When I come home, I had a whole duffel bag full of jewelry. And when my folks saw it, they wondered where I got all those jewels. When I told ’em I killed French girls to get them, they looked at me, eyes all wide.” He demonstrated a shocked expression. “But then I told them what them girls had done. And they said, ‘Well all right then–if they were sleeping with Germans, then it was okay. You did good.'”

Then he looked at me. Stared at me. I think he was waiting for me to tell him I thought it was all right, too.

Some part of my mind was wondering if he was really telling a true story. But there was absolutely no reason for him not to tell me the truth. Nothing to gain from this kind of lie. But if I were to offer him understanding as a military man myself (at that point I was already a veteran of the Gulf War and had mentioned that to him), then, well then the conversation had a purpose, a reason. Only if it were true.

I’ve been rather confrontational in my life, speaking truth when it isn’t pleasant, often enough to have had a reputation for it. But I became that way moreso after this particular encounter than I was beforehand. At that particular moment, I said something like (with a dry mouth):

“Well, Jimmy, it’s time to get you out of that tub.” And that’s what I did, got him out of there. And I toweled him off and dressed him and took him back to his room, him for a change speaking more than me, I having fallen silent.

But then I thought about what he told me. Should I tell someone? But who would I tell and how? And was there even a purpose in telling? Jimmy was only a few years from his death (which yes, was pretty evident at the time).

So in the end I did nothing. I didn’t even tell anyone in the nursing home about it. I’m not even really telling them now, even if one of them should read this, because there were two male residents in that place and during that time who had the exact same name as a famous entertainer of the past.

I’m not sure even now why I’m not saying his actual name. It might be because of his family–his children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Should they actually know? But couldn’t they just say they didn’t believe me if they heard?

How many more crimes have been covered up by simple inaction? People not knowing what to say or do. Even people who are normally bold risk-takers like me.

And how common is this sort of thing? How many other ordinary-seeming people have in fact committed horrific crimes? More than most people suspect, I think. Because even most people who do evil know it’s evil and cover it up–or seek to justify it. (Though in fact it’s almost always easier for people to do wrong when they have something to personally gain from evil–in Jimmy’s case, easier to kill and take the jewels than simply kill. And it’s also easier to do evil against people the public looks down upon.)

Note I’m not against portraying evil–I think some of my remarks two weeks ago about the way evil can affect people when portrayed, when normalized, seem to have been mistaken for me saying I am against ever portraying evil. No, I’m fine with showing evil as it is–just not with pretending evil is not evil, for the sake of justifying ourselves (as even Jimmy did). For what it’s worth, I hope my slice-of-life true account benefits someone. At least those of you who sit down to write fictional stories which may include serial killers.

But benefiting others honestly isn’t the only reason I’ve written this. Because like “Jimmy” himself, I’ve been holding onto that story for a while now…

I am, in the abstract, in favor of fandoms. Star Wars, Star Trek, Narnia, Lord of the Rings, Marvel, Disney, Pixar, and a thousand others – why not? They’re diverting and human and, on occasion, profound. In the concrete, I have adopted a few of my own and gotten uncounted hours of enjoyment out of it. But sometimes I wonder: How much do any of them matter?

I have not decided what to think about that. How I lean depends on varying factors, such as my most recent reflections and how long it has been since I was last on Facebook. I want to insist that it – your fandom, any fandom – doesn’t matter at all when I encounter those indefatigable people who cannot encounter a criticism or a joke against their fandoms without lodging a deadly-earnest objection. There are people who react to any criticism of their beloved fandoms as if someone had insulted Jesus; people who launch endless comment threads to defend them; people who can never see the point of any contrary argument, or the humor of any joke, or even just let it pass. They are indefatigable, but they are exhausting.

Worse yet are the infuriating people, the sort of people who drive celebrities from social media through their viciousness. There are fans – far too many on the Internet – who act as if the fictional objects of their passion matter more than real people. There are people who throw kindness to the wind on the feeblest provocation, but there is absurd blindness in throwing it away for the sake of fandom. And, really, how do people get the energy to care so much that someone doesn’t like what they do?

Fandoms matter a great deal less than some people think – or rather, feel. But that fact doesn’t fix the measure of their true value. When I am in a philosophical mood, or have been reading the commentary of people who are, I am more inclined to see the value of fandoms. I think there is something after all to the idea of sub-creation, that even our fictional worlds are part of our heritage as God’s image-bearers. Even the apparent superfluity of fandoms, when seen through different eyes, can be charming. Touching, even. Those things that seem least necessary are often the most human.

I am conscious, too, of the significance of stories as the expression of imagination and thought, and even of fear and aspiration. Stories are a revelation of humanity, both the good and the bad. They are also an educator of humanity, for better and for worse, and probably more is learned through stories than through school.

And fandoms are based on stories. So these two streams of thought: fandoms possess genuine significance and are annoyingly (sometimes noxiously) overvalued. Unsurprisingly, I haven’t worked out any conclusion as to how much they matter. Perhaps this is the sort of question that can’t be conclusively answered (who is to say?) and it doesn’t even matter (would it make any difference to peg the exact importance of fandoms?).

But this much we can say with scientific certainty: Regardless of exactly how much fandoms matter, it is not enough to justify a social media war.

All right, that’s enough about Joshua Harris and apostasy and “purity culture” for one lifetime.

Now I’m eager to step back to those days of yester-week. And I’m more eager more to remember twenty-five more graces that I enjoy, thanks to God’s work through Realm Makers. (See the complete set of one hundred graces, once I’m done.)

Realm Makers 2019: One hundred graces, 26–50

26. We loved meeting people at the Lorehaven magazine booth. Here we recruited free subscribers, sold copies, and shared about the magazine’s book reviews and advertising. Next year, we’ll have even more, likely including my book.
27. Catherine Jones Payne and her husband, Brendan. The former is a great author and conversationalist; the latter was one of my roommates, and a darn good one. I hope he’ll be back next year! Catherine and I both love Jesus (and often critique fundamentalist subcultures). Also, Catherine has a new book in the furnace. Mermaids, avast, and beware Fire Dancer. The cover is boss.
28. Travis Perry and his (still new!) wife, Tabatha. For this year’s costume banquet, they dressed as sort-of devil-and-angel figures. I was afraid I’d have to talk with Travis—friend and colleague at SpecFaith—about the perils of portraying evil. But no, this was actually a tribute to the themes of Travis’s new anthology, Beatitudes and Woes. I think his devilishly red makeup clung on the rest of the weekend.
29. During his writing classes, Wayne Thomas Batson really knows how to work a room—and draw in a by-phone cameo from one of his own children.
30. Realm Makers, and all the great people there, is one of the best places to work through controversial subjects. This includes (lately) omnipresent issues, such as the announced divorce of one Joshua Harris.
31. During my last night, the chap in the room next door was playing his stereo. Loudly. The bass notes: loudest of all. I had to call down to the front desk. They sent a security guard, who let me know that hey, it’s okay, the guy next door is really nice and he had no idea that bass was that powerful. Per the guard, our neighbor wanted to apologize to whomever complained. Common grace for the win! (Our hotel neighbor was all about that bass, and I didn’t have to get him in treble.)
32. My other roommate, Jonathan Clay, was also great.
33. Costume banquet, in no particular order: Jill Williamson’s White Witch, formed in part from a gown left over from her previous wedding-design business!
34. All the Wonder Women.
35. Steampunk Justice League-ers.
36. Kerry Nietz was Professor Hulk, or as I like to call this version, the Credible Hulk. (He backs up his rage with facts and documented sources.)
37. The universally recognized perfect cosplay of Johnny Depp’s Edward Scissorhands.

From left: Michael Ban and Wesley Fulkerson.

38. Junyan Wan, a.k.a. Michael Ban, who dressed as Aragorn, finally re-using his suit from his and his wife’s Lord of the Rings–themed wedding! Also, he came all the way from Singapore for his first Realm Makers.
39. Sitting between us at the costume banquet was Wesley Fulkerson. Like me, he’d forewent a costume this time. Also, he recently signed with Enclave Publishing. Expect his debut novel, For Whom the Sun Sings, to arrive March 2020.
40. After the costume banquet, I walked into the hospitality suite. I was just in time to hear the native population begin to share all the reasons The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (2010) was a rotten perversion of all that’s good in Narnia. Yes. I am so there for that discussion.
41. In the bookstore layout, the Lorehaven booth was number 42.
42. The next day, during my first lunch at Fuzzy’s Tacos, my order number was also 42.
43. Ronie Kendig, whom I’ve known since I was attending the American Christian Fiction Writers conferences. She had just gotten her advanced review copy of her upcoming book, sci-fi Brand of Light, and she was thrilled.
44. Bethany Jennings—always a great conversationalist and advocate of beauty and truth, great stories and biblical doctrine.
45. Author Bryan Davis, whom I’ve seen at every conference this spring, despite his battle with back pain and surgeries.
46. All the Realm Makers Bookstore volunteers, who man their posts without being distracted by all the other graces (as I would be).
47. Michael Howell and his faithful companion, Dr. Ted Baehr (or is this the reverse?). I had some great conversations with Michael, particularly about the pros and cons of Big Hollywood. I also enjoyed meeting Dr. Baehr. However, I may have disappointed him by apparently being the one aspiring writer guy who literally has no dreams to Make it Big in Pictures.
48. Those “Realmies” who stay up late, I think each day, to play geeky card games. No, I never joined them. Yes, I was invited several times. Sorry, folks, but thank you so much! Regardless, I enjoyed hearing all the next day’s references to crazy things that were said.
49. All those folks who cosplayed as various Doctors, and at least one Master. I heard that someone was in need of a sonic screwdriver, particularly the Eleventh Doctor variety. Naturally, as I heard, one of the props was rather easily procured.
50. This cosplay, though it’s a bit inside-jokey: in which Mary Schlegel portrays the cleaning lady of one agent/publisher Steve Laube, and carries a sack full of unfortunate wads of rejections.

Next time: twenty-five more graces, though at some point I will move into anticipation (and a little promotion for) the 2020 conference in Atlantic City, New Jersey.

As we approach the 2019 “dog days of summer,” a term adopted by baseball players to describe the hot days in August when the season became a real grind, we at Spec Faith offer a writer’s alternative: our summer writing challenge!

Summer ought to be the time when you do what you love—go on a family vacation, relax by the pool or at the beach, read good books. For writers who recently returned from the Realm Makers conference, the challenge might be the perfect writing exercise to try out something you learned, or to get you back into the writing flow after all the fun and games. For the rest of us, it might be a break from the usual. And of course it might be the spark we need to get our creative juices flowing. Besides, I know of at least one book project that has developed as a result of a Spec Faith challenge. You never know!

As has been the case for the last several years, Spec Faith’s 2019 summer writing challenge comes with rewards. There’s feedback from other Spec Faith visitors and there’s the potential for a $25 gift card from either Amazon or Barnes and Noble. And for readers, there are stories or story beginnings to enjoy. It’s all very win-win!

As a refresher, here’s how this summer writing challenge works:

• I’ll give a first line, and those who wish to accept the challenge will write what comes next—in 100 to 300 words, putting your entry into the comments section of this post.

“What comes next” may be the opening of a novel, a short story, or a completed piece of flash fiction—your choice.

In keeping with Spec Faith’s primary focus on the intersection of speculative fiction and the Christian faith, writers may wish to incorporate Christian elements or to write intentionally from a Christian worldview, but neither is required. Likewise, I’d expect speculative elements, or the suggestion of such, but entries will not be disqualified because of their omission.

• Readers will give a thumbs up (NO THUMBS DOWN, PLEASE!) to the ones they like the most (unlimited number of thumbs up), and, if they wish, they may give a comment to the various entries, telling what particularly grabbed their attention. They may also wish to critique other entries in a positive way that would benefit and/or encourage the writer.

By the way, I’m hoping we get lots of those type of responses—it’s always helpful for entrants to know what they did right and what they could have done to improve.

• After the designated time, I’ll re-post the top three (based on the number of thumbs up) and visitors will have a chance to vote on which they believe is the best (one vote only).

• I’ll again sweeten the pot and offer a $25 gift card (from either Amazon or Barnes and Noble) to the writer of the entry that receives the most votes (as opposed to the most thumbs up). In the event of a tie, a drawing will be held between the top vote-getters to determine the winner.

And now, the first line:

Jag couldn’t be a part of the rebellion any more—not with what he knew now—but could he convince the other rebels to lay down their arms?

Finally, those silly little details we all need to know:

• You must include the given first line without changing it. (IE don’t switch verb tenses, don’t write in first person instead of third, don’t add description, or make any other changes to the first line. Pour your creativity into what comes after this line).

• Your word count does not include this first line.

• You will have between now and midnight (Pacific time) this coming Sunday, August 4, to post your challenge entries in the comments section below.

• You may reply to entries and give thumbs up, this week and next. To have your thumbs up counted to determine the top three entries, mark your favorite entries before Sunday, August 11.

• Voting begins Monday, August 12.

Feel free to invite your friends to participate, either as writers or readers, and even those who have participated before. The 2019 challenge is open to published or unpublished authors, those who have won the award before and those who are just starting out. The more entries and the more feedback, the better the challenge.

However, please note, the 2019 challenge is NOT a popularity contest. We want to give writers a chance to find out what readers actually think of their writing. Consequently, please do not ask your social media followers to give your selection a vote unless they read the other entries as well. Thanks for making this little exercise a valuable help to all who enter.

To understand my proposed genre of apologetics fiction, I’ll first refer to the parable of the Good Samaritan. It begins this way:

But he [a certain lawyer], willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, “And who is my neighbour?”

And Jesus answering said, “A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead . . .”¹

If you’re like most Christians, you’re probably very familiar with that story. But have you ever stopped to think of how Jesus was a master storyteller? Not only was he amazing at telling stories that gripped his hearers, he used those stories to convey theological truths.

The greatest stories do more than entertain; they help to connect the head to the heart.

This week, stop by the Lorehaven Book Clubs group to connect with Keith A. Robinson, and explore Logic’s End and other works of apologetics fiction.

Famed apologist Ravi Zacharias often says that the work of an apologist is to do more than simply defend the Christian faith using logic and reason. An apologist must connect the head (logic and reason) to the heart (center of emotions).

As a Christian spec-fic author, this is my passion and calling. I don’t want to simply entertain my readers. I want to point them to transcendent truths about our amazing God. I want to tell powerful stories that lead my readers to understand our Creator in new ways. In addition, I have a specific calling to help Christians have confidence that our faith is based upon sound logic and reason.

To accomplish this, I propose a new genre called apologetics fiction.

The word apologetics comes from the Greek word apologia, which means a defense or justification of a belief or idea.

Apologetics, then, is the branch of theology concerned with the defense or proof of Christianity.

Apologetics fiction takes apologetics arguments and repackaging them in exciting novels.

Let’s face it—we all love a good story! Many of us (particularly young people) are just not interested in reading non-fiction. Christians throughout the centuries, from Thomas Aquinas and Justin Martyr, to C. S. Lewis, Josh McDowell and Lee Strobel, have written numerous powerful works demonstrating time and again how orthodox Christianity makes sense of the world and is based upon historical, scientific, and logical grounds. Yet those great works will go unread by many, especially in our entertainment-saturated culture.

But if we throw in dragons, elves, pirates, spaceships, robots, strange creatures, exotic locations, and most importantly, exciting characters and engaging plots, we could reach a whole group of people with some of these truths.

Many may frown upon so-called “agenda fiction,” and I understand their skepticism. I’ve read some books that have attempted to incorporate apologetics, but do so in a way that is—shall we say—less than exciting. But that doesn’t mean it can’t work. If done properly, the inclusion of apologetics propels the story along. The dialogue between characters can be natural, not forced. Good apologetics fiction is designed to whet the appetite of the reader, not give a full treatise on a topic.

I’ve had numerous young people come up to me over the years and tell me how much they not only loved my stories, but they said the apologetics in the books has helped to strengthen their faith. I even had a young man tell me, “Your books have helped to shape my theology.”

This is what excites me about writing. Well-designed stories have a way of grabbing our imaginations and helping us to remember what we learned. A good analogy can go far in teaching a specific idea, and a good story can forever ingrain a truth in our minds and spirits.

We need to know not only what we believe, but we need to know why we believe it. I’m convinced one of the reasons we are losing so many young people from the church is that they haven’t been shown the why. I may not be able to answer all their questions in a novel, but if I can get them thinking and seeking answers, that’s a step in the right direction.

Does that mean authors who write exciting stories with Christian themes should switch to incorporating apologetics? Not necessarily. We are the body of Christ, and we each have our own role to play. You can’t put into a novel what you don’t possess. If you are an author who loves apologetics, then definitely consider it.

But I would definitely encourage authors to not be afraid to incorporate deep conversations about spiritual matters in their books. C. S. Lewis definitely didn’t shy away from doing so. There are many profound truths in his novels, some of which are simply found in a single line of text.

The ultimate teacher himself, Jesus, used stories and parables to present the truths of the gospel. I hope to merely emulate his example for His glory and the furtherance of His kingdom. I pray other authors will join me. As Christian authors, we need to do more than entertain.  We need to imbue our stories with truths that point readers to our Master. And for the readers out there, don’t just settle for fluff. Seek out those stories that connect your head and your heart. They are out there.

Soli Deo gloria.

Last week I mentioned my attendance at the Realm Makers and this week I’m going to summarize my experience there.

I think last year I summarized some of the changes between attending simply attending and attending as a vendor and publisher. That is, as a vendor I was there to show and sell my books, which meant I spent a lot of time at my table and a lot of the rest of my time taking mentoring and pitch appointments for people who are hoping I will publish their story or give them key advice about it. That’s quite a different experience than going to a conference to just have fun and learn what you can from classes. But that’s not new, last year was the same for me (and even before that my experience was already changing).

The appointments were probably the most important thing for me, all things considered. Among a group of people who spoke with me (which included some people older than I am), I met a number of young writers who asked frank questions about publishing and I did my best to answer without shying away from any unpleasant truths (like, getting an indie book noticed is generally hard) but in a way that I hope encouraged them to continue writing. I pray with sincere longing that something I told them will help them along the way to become great writers. I found it deeply satisfying especially to meet with the young writers, but I in fact enjoyed all of my appointments and sincerely hope (and pray) that things I said will prove to be helpful to every individual I spoke with.

I also noticed as I walked around the conference that I didn’t see too many other name tags with the number 7 on them (the number indicated how many times attending Realm Makers–the number 7 being the maximum number possible). In fact, a number of people I met remarked about my number 7 with a bit of surprise, which tells me that I’m part of an increasingly small group. That’s interesting and perhaps gives me a bit of perspective on the conference others might not have.

Some of the people who have been around for more than a few years I can see developing as writers–with books out, when before they didn’t have any in years past or new books doing very well–I see a number of writers and publishers developing and growing over the years. Jason Joyner and Carla Cook Hoch come to mind as individual successes and Uncommon Universes Press developing as a publisher and Lorehaven as successful in its own unique niche. (Note there are many, many more people who I see growing over time that I could have mentioned but did not. Please don’t feel left out if I didn’t drop your name.)

Myself, I’m working on developing and growing Bear Publications, too (Bear is my small publishing company). I think I still have a lot to learn, but can see I’m making some bits of progress year by year. Important to me is the emphasis I’ve been talking about on getting books into foreign language markets, something I found a lot harder in practice than theory (translation of books isn’t easy)–but finally I have one book published in Spanish, Lelia Rose Foreman’s Shatterworld (Un Mundo Quebrantado). Yay!

I was also happy to complete the Beatitudes and Woes anthology–note that anthology was conceived of on the Realm Makers Consortium Facebook page and executed by authors either attending or interested in Realm Makers. Which shows just one way that RM has positively impacted my creative life, giving me projects I wouldn’t have even thought of except for people I met at this one particular conference.

In the category of “Creative Book Promotions”: My wife Tabatha as a Beatitude and me as a Woe. (Unfortunately you can’t see my red contacts in the picture–I had a very hard time getting those in!)

But I wonder what is wrong with me that I’m always launching a new book too soon before Realm Makers. As if that conference is the only deadline that matters for me or something…well, that’s gotta change, so I’ve now made a set of goals for publication for the whole year (yes, for the first time, lol), which will keep me on track, God willing. I plan to publish about 6 new books in the upcoming year, the Lord permitting…but by now know better than to make that a promise. We’ll see what happens as of next year.

But anyway, I was very pleased to have Steve Laube from Enclave come by and say some nice things about the Beatitudes and Woes antho and also about Lelia Rose Foreman’s Writing Speculative Fiction (which really is a great book on writing). He offered me some free advice, which I really wasn’t expecting. Which is one of the nice thing about Realm Makers: you never know what is going to happen in advance, which particular meeting might wind up changing your life as a writer–what relationships you will build, what projects you will learn about, what bits of fresh information someone will share with you.

I was happy to meet some old friends I’ve talked to many times before, including Kerry Nietz and Lelia Rose Foreman. I was glad to meet a few people whose names I’ve heard many times, but whom I’d never actually met in person, like Paul Regnier. I was sad that some people who had attended for numerous years weren’t there this year, like Kirk DouPonce.

In fact, the proportion of first or second year attendees seemed higher to me than in the past. That’s an impression based on name tags with 1 and 2 on them and on how many people raised their hands when asked if this was their first and second year, not a scientific count. A lot of new people means seeing less familiar faces, but it also means Realm Makers is reaching new people, which is I think is good.

Speaking of good, Brent Weeks spoke very well and Mr. Terry Brooks seemed like a very nice man. They were great additions to the conference and it was nice to see them around–though I didn’t go autograph seeking. Though perhaps I should have–I read Terry Brooks as a teenager and Brent Weeks mentioned he’s originally from Whitefish, Montana, where I lived for six years growing up (where in fact I was living when I read Terry Brook’s The Sword of Shannara). But I’ve never been interested in autographs much. I don’t know why.

Signing Beatitudes and Woes at Realm Makers… From left to right: Travis Perry, Steve Rzasa, Randy Streu, Cindy Koepp, and Gen Gavel (more signed but not at that moment).

But I perceive other people are interested in them, so I gathered together as many of the Beatitudes and Woes authors as I could to sign a set of the books I had shipped to the conference (these authors may not be famous now, but that will probably change in the future 🙂 ). The picture of one group of us signing books will be the featured image for this post, for my Realm Maker’s report.

It shows what the conference has become for me–about creating new works from the labors of fellow Realm Maker’s attendees. About promoting such works at the conference–about it being my deadline and most important goal over the past 7 years. And it also shows that what really matters to me are the people I meet in person and the interactions I have with them, rather than the overall conference and the classes and featured authors. (Why that matters most to me, I’m not entirely sure, but that’s the way things are.)

I’d like to express gratitude here to Becky and Scott Minor, who invented the idea of this conference and who make it happen every year. Their concept and hard work has been deeply inspirational to me and in numerous ways has changed my life. And of course, they didn’t do this alone–they’ve recruited many other people to help them.

To all of you who create Realm Makers as an annual event, thank you!

My debut novel, The Age of Apollyon, was released in April 2012. Eleven books and one pen name later, it has been re-released by The Crossover Alliance with a bonus short story, and the next two books in the trilogy will soon follow. I’ve come a long way as a person and as a writer since those early days, and when I came across this article from five years ago (my first for Speculative Faith), I thought it would be appropriate to shake off the dust and revisit what was going through my mind back then. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, my perspective is still more-or-less the same today, even though my writing trajectory has changed quite a bit. I hope you enjoy this blast from the past, and if you’re looking for an ultra-Gothic supernatural thriller, The Age of Apollyon has more creepy goodness than you can shake a crucifix at!

HOW DARK IS TOO DARK?

originally published on August 15, 2014

I am the author of The Age of Apollyon Trilogy, a series that imagines a world where the devil has physically revealed himself while God remains silent. Satanism becomes the dominant world religion and the protagonist of the story is a practicing Satanist.

You’re probably never going to find these books on the shelves of a Family  Christian Bookstore.

Yet I unashamedly label these books as “Christian fiction” and they are put out by a Christian publisher that releases Amish romances and uplifting devotionals. This was quite a risk on their part but I appreciate their bravery in keeping me on the roster. Of course, the Christian elements of the trilogy are not hard to spot but it is much darker and edgier than what is usually labeled as “Christian fiction.”

When I was writing these books, I was constantly asking myself the question in the title of this article: how dark is too dark? I was writing books about Satan, a Satanic world, Satanic people … but was I going overboard? Was I stepping over the line of necessity into gratuitousness? I wanted the books to be startling and even shocking at times, but the writing process felt like trying to rein in a runaway horse.

It was very hard doing the research for these books. I had to investigate rituals, incantations, terminology, and put myself in the frame of mind that my protagonist existed in — namely, despising God and embracing the darkness. It was mentally and spiritually exhausting and I could feel the darkness pressing on my mind all the time, affecting my mood, pulling me away from the light.

I was very glad when these books were finished.

I set out to write these books with the primary purpose to entertain, but I also wanted to convey a message. So I had to ask myself: what message? God is good, Satan is bad? Real men don’t worship the devil?

As the story took shape, I realized that it wasn’t about the battle between Heaven and Hell; it was about the battle within the human heart, between the root of evil that already exists there against the redemption that is so simple and yet so hard to accept. I wanted to plumb the depths of depravity in order to show how necessary that lifeline is to us fallen creatures.

So plumb I did. In fact, I feel like I kept things pretty tame. It could have been so easy to let the dog off the leash and revel in shock and horror but that would have overridden my purpose. I’ve come across several books in the Christian underground that examine the depraved human soul in order to elucidate the need for a Savior, but sometimes they come across as thinly-disguised horror schlock. I wanted to pattern my books after the Gothic classics that inspired me: The Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Monk, and Dracula. Bram Stoker’s masterpiece was particularly instrumental, because the terrifying darkness that permeated the story was offset by the heroes’ unwavering grasp on the light of Heaven to help them defeat evil. That was the kind of energy that I wanted to flow through my story, though I took sort of a reverse approach to reach the same destination.

But how dark is too dark? Is it permissible to include horrific and explicit elements in a story intended for the Christian market? My answer would be: it depends.

It really comes down to the author’s motivation for including these elements. Are they just trying to stand out and attract secular readers? Are they trying to make Christian fiction more mainstream? Are they a bit twisted in the head and need an outlet for their dark fantasies?

Or are they trying to turn the dark eyes of the world towards the light of redemption? A tiny candle flame burns brilliantly in a dark cave; without total darkness, it is hard to appreciate the relief and comfort that light brings. I believe this is why God allows such evil to exist in the world — to bring to our attention our desperate need for salvation and deliverance from the evil that we perpetuate all by ourselves.

And who says it can’t be the same in the world of fiction? If the darkness is shown to be just that, and not as something intriguing, appealing, or liberating, then there are no limits. But those of us who unleash the darkness have a responsibility to point the way to the light.

There’s enough horror in the world as it is.

Last Saturday, Realm Makers 2019, the organization’s seventh conference, concluded in St. Louis.

You can get more info from my Thursday blog, and more photos from my Friday blog.

Otherwise, your best sources for photos and recaps are at Realm Makers on Facebook and on Instagram. Stop by my Instagram feed and/or my Facebook feed for more photos and moments. We’ve also shared plenty at the Lorehaven page on Facebook.

Meanwhile, however, I want to share a total of one hundred graces. That’s one hundred of God’s gifts I enjoy through Realm Makers.

Today starts with part 1. Then this series will continue here on SpecFaith, or over at my own site portal, EStephenBurnett.com.

Realm Makers 2019: One hundred graces, 1–25

1. Our venue, this year and last year: the Sheraton Westport Chalet in St. Louis, Missouri. Such an accessible, professional yet charming hotel. It had plenty of space for the Realm Makers conference at this stage. Now we’re bigger, and next year, we’re going to Atlantic City, New Jersey. I look forward to that, but I shall miss this venue—my favorite Realm Makers meeting spot yet.
2. So many amazing friends. Even if I got cynical and gave up writing forever, I might attend conferences just to re-gather with them!
3. The Realm Makers Bookstore. This operation has just gotten better: better novels, better accessibility, and better ability to reach new fans to share these amazing stories.
4. Great faculty. They seem to rotate with each conference, and each year, they’re sharing great ideas about biblical truth and fantastic creativity.
5. This year’s keynote speaker, bestselling novelist Brent Weeks, basically preached. And this despite himself. His keynote was winsome, organized, and deeply Christian, right down to his testimony of coming to Christ as a young adult. His concluding address brought in challenges from his writing life, including even his pressure to perform and realization that he had to care for his family first.
6. Terry Brooks. Total class act. Took to this conference like a duck to water. Both him and his amazing wife, Judine.
7. Scott and Becky Minor. They have taken the chance on this “little conference” and God is blessing their risk. And they’ve done this while doing their best to pursue integrity and fidelity to the gospel, while managing the challenges of running a Christian conference in a professionally creative world. It’s been a joy for me to work with them more with Realm Makers Bookstore this year.
8. The Realm Makers costume banquet. This here is how you do God-exalting cosplay. (I nearly typed that as a rather cheesy evangelical-Freudian slip, gosplay.) It’s fandom, it’s fun, it’s creative, and it’s all based in fellowship and inclusion.
9. Even the great restaurants near this venue provide inexpensive, convenient, and spacious places for gathering with friends.
10. I’ll get into those friends by name, but I love meeting brand-new conference attenders each year!
11. This year, members not only had the usual genre-stickers on their badges, to show what kinds of stories they write. Conference organizers also made a special label, TALKABLE, to indicate whether new or introverted persons could safely approach you to introduce themselves. Yes, I applied this label. Yes, people approached me. (And yes, I once thought I was “introverted.” What a notion.)
12. Amazing books. Just everywhere: indie-published, self-published, traditionally published.
13. The music. This year, someone made sure that epic film soundtracks played over the bookstore area audio during the mingling before the costume banquet. Also, several people played Hans Zimmer excellence on the hotel piano.
14. Also, musician novelist Keith A. Robinson enjoyed playing several familiar fandom themes on his ocarina.
15. Keith A. Robinson. What a great guy; I enjoyed getting to know him better. (He’s coming to SpecFaith this Friday.)
16. The panel discussion about PG-13 content and speculative fiction. I could (and may) write a whole article just based on this discussion, and not just because I was on the panel—along with moderator Randy Streu, C. W. Briar, Robert Liparulo, Brent Weeks, and Terry Brooks.
17. I had several deeper discussions with people who had experienced some recent and drastic life trauma. Nevertheless, they managed to make it to the conference. Please pray for these dear, faithful, creative persons.
18. I got to hear some updates about exciting upcoming (non-fantastical fiction) projects from Tyndale House Publishers.
19. This year’s new addition, the hospitality suite (sponsored by Laura VanArendonk Baugh), was amazing.
20. Enclave Publishing is on the move, and I also got to hear some updates about what they’re planning for next year.
21. Kerry Nietz and Steve Rzasa, two original Enclave authors and first-rate science-fiction crafters. I’m happy to count them both as friends and colleagues in this expanding mission to share, and create, excellent fantastical stories for the glory of God.
22. Also, Kerry and I got to geek out over the Star Trek: Picard trailer, then share this geekiness with Steve Rzasa, novelist Joshua A. Johnston, and several other “Realmies.”
23. Marian Jacobs, Lorehaven columnist and friend, was amazing. So was her wind-up-automaton costume, months in the making.
24. Havok magazine publisher Andrew Winch makes a great Captain America. Then, during the costume banquet, you should have seen how he photo-bombed the costume contest with a swift Cap-dash across stage and a perfectly timed, “On your left.”
25. Yes, I pitched a few fiction projects. And yes, the pitching went well. I enjoyed not only recommending my own work but hearing about these other publishers’ work! Time will tell whether any of my own fiction (not oft discussed here) will find a wider audience.

Onward to the next 25, either here on Speculative Faith or to be continued on my own site!