I can’t think of a better opportunity for reading than enjoying the submissions to the 2018 Summer Writing Challenge. Of course, there are still three days left, so there are MORE entries coming. But what I’ve learned, it’s good to avoid falling too far behind. If that happens, it’s hard to find the time to read ALL the submissions.

So consider today a “catch up” day in which you can jump in and read those entries that have already been submitted. Then you can stop in tomorrow and Sunday to finish out the submissions.

That’s just one plan, though. All next week, you can read and give your response to the challenge entries. Because, clearly, ones that come in first would have the advantage of being up longer and therefore could garner more plus votes just because of longevity. With the extra week, those submissions that come in later will have a good amount of exposure. In the past, we’ve had a number of winners come from those later entries.

But for today, why not take advantage of the opportunity to see what writers have already submitted. Then on Monday, I’ll tell you what fascinates me so with this challenge.

You’ll find the submissions in the comments of this post: “2018 Spec Faith Summer Writing Challenge.”

And don’t forget: it’s not to late to enter. You have until Sunday at midnight (Pacific time).

One more “don’t forget.” One of the “prizes” of this challenge is for the writers to receive feedback, so please add your opinion. Tell those who have entered what you like about their submission and how they could strengthen it.

This post is a dive into a pool of Biblical ideas that at first may not seem to have much to do with speculative fiction. But it really does–if you read or write speculative fiction that features gods and goddesses, demons and devils, magic and spiritualists. What does the Bible say about these things?

My particular inspiration for this article is a comment my friend Mike Duran made on Facebook (I plan on sharing a link to this article with him). He quoted Dr. Michael Heiser, who in short is saying that demons are the spirits of slain Nephilim referenced in Genesis 6 (and the extra-Biblical book of Enoch). Though I could take the tactic of directly addressing both what Heiser says and why he says it (I believe it has quite a lot to do with his education in ancient Mesopotamian mythology), instead, let me give an overview of what the Bible says about demons–or more broadly, about spirits in opposition to God, whatever we choose to name those spirits. This is something I’ve talked about before, on my own blog, but I’ll do it in a different way here than I’ve done in the past.

Take a favorite Bible translation you have in computer format (or break open your Strong’s Unabridged if you enjoy massive papery tomes) and do a search for the word “gods.” You should be aware up front that not every translation will agree how many times the word appears in the Bible. This has to do not only with some difference in texts, but with the nature of the Hebrew word “Elohim” (אלוהים) which is a plural word mostly used with single verbs, which is usually applied to the God of Israel, but arguably could apply to other gods as well. Christians traditionally have explained this plural/singular as hinting at the Trinity, while Jews talk of a “plural of majesty,” and the folks who educated Dr. Heiser say the term points to a past when the Hebrews were polytheists–of course such scholars say the Hebrews evolved into monotheists over time (they say so because God is fictional in their minds and therefore could not have revealed his unique nature to Moses or to anybody else) and so “Elohim” referred to the “council of the gods” that Hebrews once believed in because some of their Pagan neighbors had similar ideas. (Which Heiser accepts as a true concept, but gives it a Christian twist.)

Don’t get lost in such minutia right now. I want you to notice something else here, broad observations. First, in the Old Testament there are loads of references to gods in the plural who in context are specifically not the God of Israel. And there very few such references in the New Testament. Quite a number of gods are mentioned by name prior to the New Testament, Ba’al and Asherah only being the top two.

If you skim through the references to “gods,” you’ll see that the gods mentioned in the Old Testament are not said to be fictional at any point. Especially at first, they are simply mentioned in terms of gods you shall not worship–worship is reserved for Jehovah alone. A bit later Scripture says that their idols are worthless, unable to speak, to hear, or to move. They are specifically stated not to have been the creators of the universe, in contrast to Jehovah (Jer. 10:11). But never, not once, does the Old Testament plainly state that there really only is one God and all the rest are fictional (the closest it gets is in saying God is the “God of gods” which could imply other gods are or were subservient to him as angels or several other possible interpretations). Yes, you can plainly see that Israel was only to worship one God, that the rest are weak posers in comparison to God (that only Jehovah is responsible for creation, for example), and that idolatry is idiotic. But that isn’t the same as “the gods are fictional.”

So if that’s true, if the gods are real and are genuine rivals to Jehovah (you won’t see much in terms of kindly tolerance of worship of other gods in the Old Testament) what happened to the gods in between the Old and New Testaments? Why are they mentioned so much in the OT and very little in the NT? What did they do, go on vacation or something?

To answer that, do a different search. Two different ones, actually. First, search for “demon.” Again, it depends on what Bible translation you use, but you’ll see that there are either no references to demons in the Hebrew Scriptures (a.k.a. Old Testament) or just a few of them, in contrast to a pile of them in the Greek Scriptures (the NT). Likewise, “devil” will show you quite a lot in from the Greek Scriptures but little from the Hebrew.

When you search for “devil,” translations vary–the King James made them all references to “demons” into “devils”– but you will find references to a singular devil (Devil with a big “D”) in other translations and at least in the KJV references to plural “devils.” But you won’t find many or any of these in the OT, just in the NT.

Hmmm. Could the gods and demons/devils be the same thing, just under different names? That idea would certainly explain where the gods went (they just got renamed), but isn’t satisfactory in other ways. We don’t hear of people being possessed by the gods in the OT, yet, demons do a whole lot of possessing and oppressing people in the NT.

Do yet another search. Search for “spirits” (as opposed to “Spirit” in the singular). You’ll find a pile of references that cross over, finally, both Hebrew and Greek Scriptures. In the OT you will see commands forbidding seeking out spirits and references to unclean spirits and the New Testament essentially has the same references, with different emphasis–again, much more on possession than the Hebrew Scriptures ever mention. But still, it’s pretty evident the terminology is similar.

Now try searching for “Satan.” You’ll find that a few Old Testament references exist, ones that some people claim are totally different than who we think of as being Satan today–they say Satan is the “opposer” who presents himself with the other divine beings/angels/sons of God (depending on your interpretation) in the book of Job. But, however, excuse me, ahem, if we are to take the New Testament as coming from God (and if we don’t, we run into real problems considering ourselves Christians) the NT plainly affirms that Satan is the Devil and is the serpent as well (yeah, that serpent, the one in Genesis 3)–please refer to Revelation 12:9.

OK, so the Devil in the singular is Satan according to the Bible, who is talked about quite a bit in the New Testament, and a little bit in the Old Testament, significantly as the tempter of Adam and Eve.

Also, please notice that Satan (a.k.a. “the Dragon”) is said to have angels fighting with him in Revelation 12:7, just a hair away from where I just quoted. It doesn’t matter that the battle in Revelation takes place after the beginning of time. The passage plainly identifies Satan as having his own angels. Not his own Nephilim or half-angels.

If you don’t find Revelation 12:7-9 noteworthy here, please remember that Christian tradition through the centuries also, with little disagreement, agrees that the Devil = Satan = the serpent of Eden. And that Satan was accompanied by a host of (fallen) angels.

Please notice that if we see Satan in Genesis 3, that means he existed before Genesis 6. So Satan is not a product of the rebellion of that happened at that time. Satan certainly seems to be of the same substance of the demons that possess people, since Luke 22:3 states Satan directly possessed Judas Iscariot. And if the big D-devil (Satan) existed prior to Genesis 6, why is it that the angels that follow him would not exist until after that? Hmmm.

I suppose it’s possible that spirits of dead Nephilim added themselves to the body of demons or affiliated with them in some sort of way, but the Devil and the angels who follow him (a.k.a. demons), who surely existed prior to Genesis 6, are more than enough to explain all demonic activity, without reference to Nephilim.

Now, it is true that we don’t really have specifics as to when or why Satan rebelled and took “his angels” (that’s me quoting the Bible there) with him. The traditional interpretations of Isaiah 14 and Ezekiel 28 referring to Lucifer/Satan have been widely challenged and for once, for reasons that actually make sense (though I think the traditional view of those passages has some value, I agree that people have good reasons to disagree). So we essentially have no solid Biblical information about Satan’s rebellion and the angels he took with him, though it clearly it happened and it clearly happened prior to Genesis 3.

Note also that one OT passage that contains both the term “devil” (in the KJV) and “gods” and equates them–“devils” (or demons) are “gods!” (Deut 32:17) And note also that one of the few New Testament references to “gods” equates them with demons as well, saying things sacrificed to idols are sacrificed to demons (I Cor. 10:20).

So if we are going to take the Bible seriously, it seems the case is closed on where the gods went–the ancient gods are in fact demons. As to why they acted differently in New Testament times, I’m not sure, but another look at the Old Testament might clear things up a bit.

What exactly is the difference in the Old Testament between worshiping gods other than God and calling up spirits anyway? Doesn’t calling up spirits seems like a different sort of thing–and also, doesn’t it sound like it relates to the New Testament term “unclean spirit” (a.k.a. “demon”)?

But actually, there isn’t much difference between calling up spirits and calling on gods in the OT. Both things are forbidden in Israelite worship, both things are seen as substitutes for seeking God, and both things involve seeking spiritual forces. There is an actual difference in that going to meet the gods at a temple site might (perhaps) be a classier affair than consulting a spiritualist in the dead of night. But really, at the temple of the gods, the ancient Pagans expected to communicate with their gods via priests and priestesses. Whereas a medium might call up someone more “familiar” (heh heh)–a friend or relative. But both the work of the spiritualist and the work of the temple priests were considered “magic” under the Old Testament law, both were forbidden, and both were seen as substituting something else for what properly belongs to Jehovah (see Isaiah 8:19 concerning spiritualists).

And that realization, that the Pagan spiritualists and the Pagan temple worshipers were actually doing essentially the same thing in a different context gives light to why magic is forbidden in the Old Testament. Because as that term was used in the Bible, it always meant seeking spiritual power other than God.

It’s like a form of treason.

The gods of Olympus, by Giulio Romano

This fact is part of the reason why I object relatively little or not at all to stories that contain magic without any specific cause linked to it, like Harry Potter. While I do object to, say, Percy Jackson, in which the gods are characters in the story and the protagonist is a demigod. It’s the inclusion of other gods and Pagan rituals seeking power outside of God that was the dividing line for the Old Testament and is a dividing line for me as well. Not the use of power per se.

So why would the Bible care about that? What’s the big deal about seeking gods (/spirits/demons)?

It’s because the gods are not fictional–oh, specific myths about them are fiction, but there is a genuine spiritual power behind the host of Pagan deities that exist and have existed. They have not gone on vacation, either, though they have interacted with humanity in different ways over time in accordance with our own belief systems.

They seem more than happy to reappear in our culture in the guise of gods yet again–if you haven’t heard, modern Neo-Pagan religions are growing dramatically. And in fact, references to gods in fiction also seem to be growing more and more common.

So what happened to all the gods?

Nothing. They are still around. Following our culture as it changes, willing to act demonic if need be, but looking for opportunities to be worshiped once again…

Last week marked the third anniversary of the small press that has released my last three books, The Crossover Alliance. In fact, my disaster thriller Beast was the first book released under its name. The motto of TCA is “A Different Kind of Fiction,” and their mission has been to put out Christian fiction that most publishers would consider too edgy, especially for the Christian market. TCA isn’t the first press to venture into these waters but it’s the first to go all in without leaning on side imprints for market stability or broader audience reach.

While I’d love to toot my publisher’s horn, I want to focus on this nebulous term “edgy Christian fiction” and what it means today compared to what it meant just a few years ago. When one hears the term “edgy,” it usually means “hip” or “cool” or “trendy.” People often correlate “edgy” with “cutting edge,” the latest, most fashionable thing in this or that industry.

But there is another meaning of “edgy,” one which applies more to creative people and their endeavors. When a book or movie or piece of art is labeled “edgy,” it means something that is on the edge of social acceptability, something far outside the mainstream so as to be on the edge of what people will digest. The word “edgy” is not a friendly word. After all, what has edges? Knives, scalpels, axes. The sharper the edge, the better the cutting tool. Something “edgy” divides and separates into those who dig it and those who don’t. It’s challenging and often uncomfortable, rewarding for some and repulsive to others.

Mainstream Christian fiction is usually the picture perfect example of a safe product. Yes, there are turbulent emotions and conflicts and struggles, but in terms of unsavory content, you’ll be hard pressed to find a “Gosh darn it!” This sort of writing characterizes the vast majority of Christian fiction and the publishers are very careful to maintain their sanitary image, lest their readers cry foul. This overemphasis on cleanliness makes it an easy target for mockery and derision by those of us on the edge. Sometimes the jabs are deserved, other times not. There is a wide spectrum of reasons why but the whole scenario can be likened to an unknown punk rock band grumbling about playing to empty bars while the sellout mainstream rock band that totally sucks plays to packed arenas. But hey, at least the punk rock band is staying true to themselves and playing from their heart, rather than what a boardroom of corporate suits tells them to play to get on the radio.

The Crossover Alliance

While edgy Christian fiction rarely appears on the bookshelves of the local Christian bookstore (though it is happening more and more), one can look at places like Realm Makers to see the popularity of stories that would be considered far too edgy for the Christian market just five or ten years ago. That’s not to say that the books at these events are bursting with swear words and nudity and sadistic gore, but they’re not windswept prairie romances either. So does this mean that “edgy” is losing its edge? I don’t think so. It means that more people are broadening their understanding of what Christian fiction can encompass.

There are many dangers, of course. Writers can include unsavory content for shock value. Readers can gravitate towards edgy books with a rebellious or sinful heart. Readers and writers can look down on “clean” books and chide them for being literary sissies. The drive toward edginess can overshadow the drive toward glorifying Christ. This is the most popular pitfall that many on the edge fall into. Any book by a Christian author, whether it is labeled as “Christian fiction” or not, should be judged by 1 Cor. 10:31: “Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (NASB). As Christian readers and writers, we are called not just to artistic excellence but most importantly to glorify God by what we read and write. Edgy for the sake of edginess is folly, especially if it leads readers’ imaginations into sin. But if God has impressed a story on our hearts that trudges through some mud into order to illuminate His truth, then we shouldn’t be scared of getting a little dirty.

Why is speculative fiction such an ancient and enduring genre?

It can be argued that the modern concepts of science fiction and fantasy didn’t actually come to exist until a couple of centuries ago. But if we expand the definition of speculative fiction to include myths, legends, and fairy tales, we’re left with a body of work that stretches far into the past. Throughout time, there have always been people who enjoyed creating and hearing stories about things beyond the ordinary realm–heroes, monsters, mystical realms, and so on. This is because all people are designed to desire and seek out wonder.

At a very basic level, we want there to be something more to this universe; something that makes us draw in our breath and feel a rush of exhilaration.

Within the context of the Christian worldview, of course, this makes perfect sense.

This week we feature Kyle Robert Shultz and his novel The Beast of Talesend in Lorehaven Book Clubs. Stop by the flagship book club on Facebook to learn more about this story.

Subscribe to Lorehaven Magazine for free to download our new summer 2018 issue.

In his sermon entitled “The Weight of Glory,” C.S. Lewis used the German term Sehnsucht to label this impulse, and described it as a “desire for our own far-off country…the secret which hurts so much that you take your revenge on it by calling it names like Nostalgia and Romanticism and Adolescence.”

Even confirmed atheist Richard Dawkins once conceded during a debate that “when you consider the beauty of the world…you are naturally overwhelmed with a feeling of awe…of admiration, and you almost feel a desire to worship something.”

Our Creator intended for us to be drawn to Him. And out of all the tales of wonder that have accumulated over the centuries, the Bible stands apart as a book that reveals the true, ultimate source of wonder.

Because we live in a fallen world, however, this natural desire can be either deadened or subverted. Both hardship and greed can stifle the seeds that God has planted in our hearts, as Jesus said in Mark 4:19.

Sometimes, a dismissal of all things that transcend the physical world can manifest in a dislike for such elements in a fictional context. I’m not saying that everyone has to like speculative fiction, but I have noticed that people who utterly despise all forms of it often lead unhappy lives. Also, even if it is not snuffed out, the longing for wonder can be misdirected toward darker, harmful things. Stories that delve too deeply into the shadows without any flicker of light can be unhealthy to the reader’s soul.

“Kyle Robert Shultz creates an enchanting story world grounded in familiarity yet saturated with fairy-tale qualities. Add a distinctly British ambience and this story is primed to delight.” — Lorehaven Magazine

Nick Beasley, the main character of my novel The Beast of Talesend and its sequels, is someone who has given up on wonder because of the pain and abandonment he experienced in his childhood. Though he lives in world where fairy tales are true history and magic is hidden in plain sight, he chooses to find rationalistic explanations for everything. Lord Whitlock, the story’s villain, is obsessed with harnessing dark forces to increase his own power. Each of them embodies a way in which the desire for wonder can be derailed.

Nick’s journey toward believing in fairy tales (meant to mirror a path to salvation), and his victory over a darkness that threatens to take everything from him, is of deep personal significance to me. Writing the book was an act of reclaiming wonder and hope in my life after tragedy nearly crushed it. Not long after I developed the basic story concept that would one day become The Beast of Talesend, my uncle Don suddenly passed away in a car accident. We were very close, and the loss was devastating. I never actually turned away from my Christian faith during this time, but for a year after the tragedy, I couldn’t bring myself to write anything.

However, with God’s help, I eventually reached the point where I could create stories again—and Don had a profound influence on the book I chose to write. Nick is the kind of person my uncle always sought to reach with the Gospel. He had a heart for those who had distanced themselves from God but sorely needed Him. Don kept wonder alive in my life in so many ways while he was here. Writing fantastical, uplifting stories is one of the ways in which I try to honor his legacy.

Tales of wonder make us happy, and not just because they’re “escapism.” The best of these stories bring us closer to the One who placed Sehnsucht in our hearts—even, ironically, in some cases when they’re written by people who don’t believe in God. One of the most “Christian” quotes I know of in the speculative genre comes from Doctor Who’s River Song, as penned by atheist Steven Moffat:

“Goodness is not goodness that seeks advantage. Good is good in the final hour, in the deepest pit, without hope, without witness, without reward. Virtue is only virtue in extremis.”

As Christian fans of the speculative genre, we have a unique opportunity to guide the way from the signposts of fictional wonder to the truth of the One whose name is Wonderful (Isaiah 9:6). Fairy tales may not be real—not in this world, at least—but He is. And thanks to Him, our story never has to end.

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“Kyle Robert Shultz creates an enchanting story world grounded in familiarity yet saturated with fairy-tale qualities. Add a distinctly British ambience and this story is primed to delight.”
— Lorehaven Magazine

Explore Kyle Robert Shultz’s novel The Beast of Talesend in the Lorehaven Library.

Read our full review exclusively from the spring 2018 issue of Lorehaven Magazine!

As I announced last week, it’s time for our summer writing challenge!

Summer, when you just might have time to do what you love. For those back 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 we have for the last several years, Spec Faith’s 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 B&N. 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:

1. 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.

1. Readers will give a + (NO MINUSES, PLEASE!) to the ones they like the most (unlimited number of pluses), and, if they wish, they may give a comment to the various entries, telling what particularly grabbed their attention.

By the way, I encourage such responses—it’s always helpful for entrants to know what they did right and what they could have done to improve.

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

2. 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 pluses). 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:

If only Bran could stop the king, but he was too powerful, too sure he was right.

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

• You must include the given first line without changing it.

• Your word count does not include this first line.

• You will have between now and midnight (Pacific time) this coming Sunday, July 29, to post your challenge entries in the comments section.

• You may reply to entries and give pluses, this week and next. To have your pluses counted to determine the top three entries, mark your favorite entries before Sunday, August 5.

• Voting begins Monday, August 6.

Feel free to invite your friends to participate, either as writers or readers. The more entries and the more feedback, the better the challenge.

However, please note, the 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.

Let me begin by saying: Altered Carbon is magnificent!

The story is beautifully melancholy, but for all its darkness, not without hope. It is well-told and gorgeously photographed. The visuals are stunning. The music and sound design are on-point. The characters are fully actualized in their backstories and personalities, and are wonderfully realized by the actors who play them. Allow me a bit of cliche superfluity as I say that Altered Carbon is an artistic television triumph.

So, what’s the problem?

Well, not to be generalized as a conservative prude, the problem, or the question, really, is, “what’s with all the nudity?” Indeed, one cannot look in any meaningful way at the story, the construction of the show, or its messaging without talking about the nudity.

Look, I get it: the show is about, at least in some sense, the body. It asks of the audience, what happens when our lives, lived inside these shells of ours, transcend what we know of as mortality? What happens when we can shed our flesh like a snake sheds its skin? How far can we go before we lose our souls?

To that end, the viewer is practically assaulted with nudity–but not just any nudity. The men are handsome; the women beautiful. We are treated to the visual pleasures of a world in which people are given the ability to be, or have, anything they want. It is sexual exploitation extrapolated to its logical, if far-fetched, conclusion.

Or at least, on the surface that conclusion is far-fetched. It seems to me that one of the messages of the nudity prevalent throughout Altered Carbon is that, perhaps, this exploitative attitude we revile in the Upper Class living in their high rises above the clouds isn’t actually all that far off from where we are now. It invites us to enjoy the view, and then uses that enjoyment to drive home the point that we’re already driving off the cliff, and didn’t even know it.

It’s clever, really, but given so many of the other themes present in the series, also a touch ironic. Perhaps even hypocritical (though, as with the nudity, I suppose one could be pedantic enough to suggest that even the hypocrisy is itself part of the point).

Let’s pause here for a minute, and talk about the multi-faceted moral of this story. The thematic elements of Altered Carbon seem to be one part Prometheus, three parts Nietzsche. It’s a lesson in what happens when we fly too close to the sun. It also packs the wallop of “God Is Dead,” and the one-two punch of Nietzche’s second most famous quote: “Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster… for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.”

The villains of the piece, at least the three main villains, are really the tragic heroes of their own stories. The husband and wife who wanted to truly be together forever, but who, in one character’s words, “ruined each other.” Who wanted to become gods, but became demons. The loving sister whose passion and dependency twisted until she became the very evil that brought her and her brother so close to begin with.

“Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster.” This is the lesson of Reileen’s story. Be watchful that you do not become that which you wish to destroy. To really drive the point home, the series even presents to us a virus which causes people to do exactly that. “The enemy was us,” says one such character, before succumbing to her wounds. Indeed, if one had to choose, from among the several themes present in the series, it is this one and, let’s face it, it ain’t subtle.

Perhaps this is why the filmmakers’ choice to expose exploitation by becoming exploiters themselves is so… disappointing. Certainly, theirs is a minor exploitation when compared to the blood- and sex-fueled indulgence of the central villains… but it is exploitation, all the same.

The point is well-made. We are becoming commodities, and we are losing our ability to feel. Gratuitous sex and violence is cauterizing an important part of who we are as a people–that place in our souls where we keep our empathy and compassion. We are losing our ability to be shocked as media and current events up the ante more and more each passing year.

Yet, with enough nudity to callous all but the most hormonal of prepubescent boys, and scene after scene of pummelling, brutal ultraviolence, one must wonder whether Altered Carbon is a part of the problem. If, perhaps, in exposing the sins of a world that more and more commonly sees others as disposable, as existing merely for its own pleasure, the series merely succeeds in adding another such sin to the world’s grievous catalogue.

And that’s too bad, really, but it does nicely illustrate the point: Stare too long into the abyss, and it looks back.

Beware, Storyteller, that when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become one.

The irony up front of this article is while it will be published Thursday morning during the Realm Makers Conference, I’m writing it before that, before going to the conference. So while this article coincides with the 6th year of RM, it can’t say anything meaningful about this year’s event. Except that it will be in St. Louis, as the first Realm Makers was. And I can also say that I’ve been to all six Realm Makers and will be at this one as well (God willing).

The first Realm Makers was a small event, but I met some amazing people there. Jeff Gerke, Brian Davis, and Kathy Tyers were only the better-known ones. I also met a lot of people I had already been working with on various projects, like Grace Bridges and Kat Heckenbach.  And of course, Becky and Scott Minor–and Ben Wolf.

Through the years I’ve met other people, so many I can’t remember now which Realm Makers I was at when I met them.  I’d start dropping names (Kerry Nietz  and E. Stephen Burnett would be at the top of any such list), but I know I will forget people whom I don’t wish to forget, so maybe it’s better I don’t launch into a massive list after all.

But there’s this weird aspect of meeting people in person at Realm Makers you know from online (which would of course apply to similar conferences as well)–some people are nicer to spend time with than you would ever imagine, some people are actually not as nice as you thought, and some people live up to what you thought was true. This experience is especially poignant at Realm Makers for me, because unlike a number of other attendees, RM is the only writer’s conference of any kind that I’ve ever attended.

Personally, by sheer coincidence, the years of the conferences have coincided with some of the worst years of my life. I imagine I was not always as easy to get along with as what I think of as being my normal, baseline self. It’s nice to be returning to that baseline, so hopefully I can more good impressions than I may have done in the past. (Though I have been making friends each year, I would not say I always acted as well as I should have. If there’s any individual reading this I’ve ever offended at a previous conference–please accept my sincere apologies.)

Professionally, Realm Makers has been a huge part of my life as an author and now a publisher. I’ve done a lot of joint writing projects and a great many of the writers I work with on anthologies and other projects I’ve met at Realm Makers. That includes Lelia Rose Foreman’s Writing Speculative Fiction books and many of the Mythic Orbits story authors, and the Medieval Mars and Victorian Venus books  and Kristin Stieffel’s Tales of the Phoenix book (in that same story universe as MM and VV). All these collaborative projects became possible at least in part as a result of going to this conference for six years in a row.

How I spend my time at the conference has shifted over the years. I’m more interested in mentoring others and hearing pitches for their works, and more interested in networking with other authors and just spending time together, than I am interested in keynote speakers or the educational content of the conference itself. Not that there’s anything wrong with that content–it’s taught me some valuable things. I’ve just found the networking and the planning of new projects to be more personally valuable to me than any content that has been taught.

Will I keep going to this conference, over and over for years to come? I don’t honestly know. I think so, but perhaps over time this will no longer be my one-and-only conference. Perhaps I may attend something with a different approach as to content or audience–or a regional conference.

But even if I also go elsewhere in the future, I’m definitely a Realm Makers alumnus. The conference has shaped my life as a writer and a publisher in a number of ways.

So thank you, Becky, Scott, and Ben. And all others, a host of you, who have contributed to this conference in a meaningful way. I really have appreciated your efforts.

For the general public reading here, what are your thoughts on the Realm Makers Conference? If you’ve attended, what are your favorite aspects? Favorite memories? If you haven’t, do you plan to in the future? Why or why not?

Chances are if you went looking for outdoorsy-reader-me as a kid, you would have found me perched in a tree limb with a book in hand. Or walking around the house with my nose in a book. Or sprawled out reading on the back of my oh-so-patient horse, an elderly fellow named Sylvester who we jokingly referred to as “the English Gentleman.”

I read and read and read and drank in heroic stories as if they were water and I was dying of thirst, and somewhere along the way, I fell in love with the characters within. The hobbits who chose to stand up. The Apprentice Pig-Keepers who dreamed of being heroes. The shieldmaidens who stood between those they loved and certain death.

At face value, the character I loved had little in common. Some were male. Some were female. Some were warriors. Some were gardeners (and body-guards). Some were computer geniuses. Some were just ordinary kids thrown into the wildest and craziest sorts of adventures.

This week we feature Gillian Bronte Adams and her novel Orphan’s Song in Lorehaven Book Clubs. Stop by the flagship book club on Facebook to learn more about this story.

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But all of them had strengths and skills all their own.

Honor. Courage. Hope. Love. Indomitable spirit. Intense Loyalty. Sacrifice.

Those were the qualities they exemplified, and so those were the qualities that I—even as a kid—knew that I wanted to have too.

Maybe my Hogwarts letter wasn’t going to show up. Maybe the next wardrobe I opened wouldn’t whisk me to a magical land with talking animals (although that didn’t stop me from trying despite the sad lack of wardrobes in my daily life—closets proved an unexciting substitution). Maybe I wouldn’t show up at summer camp and discover that I was fated to be a hero and fight monsters.

But I could try to be just as brave and fierce and courageous and hopeful in my daily life as my favorite heroes were and maybe that made me just a little bit like them.

Some days, I didn’t feel brave. Some days, I didn’t feel hopeful. Some days, I didn’t feel like sacrificing. And it wasn’t until I got older, that I realized that the same was true of my favorite characters.

Not one of them was perfect.

They were all complex characters with a blend of strengths and weaknesses that ultimately made them seem real and relatable. After all, perfect people don’t exist. So perfect characters shouldn’t either.

Take Sam Gamgee for example. Incredibly loyal. Positively adorable with his down-to-earth nature. Always ready with a sold dose of good hobbit sense. He is willing to sacrifice himself for Frodo every step of the way as he walks to Mordor (See … it can be done, Boromir!) and braves the fires of Mount Doom. This kind of friendship is something that we can all strive to imitate.

And yet, Sam’s attitude toward Gollum (reasonable or not) can be painful to read in the books and especially painful to watch in the movies. Dear, kind, loyal Sam allows his protectiveness toward Frodo to lead him to despise Gollum. He insists on calling him names like “Slinker” and “Stinker,” and it could be argued that Sam’s actions hinder any potential redemption arc for Smeagol.

And yet, I can so relate to Sam’s weaknesses even as I can admire his strength. Because in Sam’s place, I might have done the same.

Nowadays, I don’t just get to read stories about imperfect (but wonderful) characters, I get to write them too. Developing characters is one of my favorite parts of writing because it’s through characters that the connection between readers and a story truly takes place.

“A classic medieval fantasy setting populated with archetypes that somehow feel fresh and vigorous.”
—Lorehaven Magazine

So when I started writing Orphan’s Song, the first book of The Songkeeper Chronicles, I knew that the characters within would not be perfect, but I hoped that they would be inspiring even in their imperfection.

So Birdie, who begins the story as an orphaned drudge at an inn before she is launched on her wild adventure and wrestles with fear and identity, inspires me to be courageous and to know who I am and whose I am.

Ky Huntyr, who has a stubborn streak as wide as a river and starts off the story as a street-wise thief dodging soldiers to stay alive, inspires me to keep pressing on. Kind of like Captain America standing up after he’s been knocked down again and again. “I could do this all day.” What I wouldn’t give to have that kind of indomitable spirit!

But he also reminds me to be willing to bend and acknowledge that maybe I’m not 100 percent right 100 percent of the time. (Crazy thought, right?)

And Amos McElhenny, the wild-haired, brash-tongued peddler, inspires me to love fiercely and be completely me, no matter how “boggswoggling” odd that might be. Because strength needn’t always be hard and love is not weakness. (But also, Amos’s mishaps remind me that maybe I shouldn’t go around calling people “beswoggled fools.” Unless they really deserve it.)

Joking aside, at the end of the day, imperfect characters are inspiring because they remind us of grace. They model for us how to fall and how to rise again and how to keep on keeping on even as they face the good and bad consequences of their choices. And as they struggle with choices—and sometimes make choices that have negative effects on themselves or on their worlds—I know that I am inspired by their struggle as much as by their victories, because I understand that struggle too.

Who are some characters that have inspired you the most over the years?

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“A classic medieval fantasy setting populated with archetypes that somehow feel fresh and vigorous.”
— Lorehaven Magazine

Explore Gillian Bronte Adams’s novel Orphan’s Song in the Lorehaven Library.

Read our full review exclusively from the spring 2018 issue of Lorehaven Magazine!