Congratulations to our 2017 Winter Writing Challenge winner: Liv K. Fisher.
I’ll be contacting her privately to arrange her gift card from either Amazon or B&N.
Congratulations to our 2017 Winter Writing Challenge winner:
Liv K. Fisher.
I’ll be contacting her privately to arrange her gift card from either Amazon or B&N.
For those interested, voting results are now visible in the poll by percentage (see below, click on view results).
Special thanks to all of you who participated: the entrants for sharing their stories with us, the visitors who commented and gave thumbs-up votes for finalists, and those who voted in the poll to select the winner.
Contests like this are fun. The thing that continues to amaze me is how varied the stories are even though they all begin with the same first sentence. We had such a wide range of speculative genres and of tone and mood. In the end, surprise and humor seemed to win out.
For those who may have missed Liv’s winning entry, here it is again:
By Liv K. Fisher
Kendall didn’t care if the other candidates thought he was power-hungry—nothing could stop him from going after his destiny… even if his destiny was a chicken pot pie.
It was all quite embarrassing, really. Kendall hadn’t *wanted* to enter an eating competition. But his mother had demanded it. Apparently, being a part of the galaxy’s lowest social class meant placing oneself against those of the like.
The wealthy, cyborg judge would watch, amused, as each citizen stuffed their face, and the person who appeared most desperate would win a six-month supply of food. This happened twice every year. Twice, every year, and it was broadcast—live—on television. And Kendall hated it.
In case you missed Monday’s post announcing the finalists, you can find it here. The entries appear in alphabetical order, determined by the last name of the authors.
It’s not too late to vote for this year’s Spec Faith 2017 Winter Writing Challenge winner. However, Sunday, January 29 is the last day. The poll will close at midnight.
In case you missed Monday’s post announcing the 2017 finalists, you can find it here. The entries appear in alphabetical order, determined by the last name of the authors.
The poll where you vote is below the third entry.
Feel free to invite your friends and family to vote for the one they think is best. Of course this is not a “if you like me, you’ll vote for mine” or “for the one I want to see win,” kind of arm-twisting announcement. I haven’t seen anything like that, so that’s awesome. I just don’t want the point of this reminder to be misconstrued. We want to have readers who vote. We want this to be fun for readers and beneficial for writers.
The Ice Child: A Winter Fairy Tale by Evangeline Denmark INTRODUCTION In the novelette, The Ice Child, Sipp, a clockmaker’s apprentice, dreams of opening his own shop, but the people of Martigny believe he’s marked by the devil—all except for […]
INTRODUCTION
In the novelette, The Ice Child, Sipp, a clockmaker’s apprentice, dreams of opening his own shop, but the people of Martigny believe he’s marked by the devil—all except for kind, independent Elise. As Sipp’s hope for the title of master craftsman fades, another destiny calls to him on the winter wind. But will answering that call mean leaving Elise behind forever?
THE ICE CHILD — EXCERPT
Author’s Note
Like many folktales, the story of the ice child can be found in several cultures. The basic version goes something like this: A man returns from a long journey to find his wife has given birth to a child who obviously can’t be his. The wife tells him she felt compelled to eat an icicle, or a frost-covered leaf, fell pregnant, and delivered a baby. Sometime later the husband takes the child with him on a market trip only to return without him, claiming the sun grew hot and the child melted.
I used this snippet of fable as a starting point for Sipp’s story.
18th Century Switzerland
Sipp remembered cold like a childhood home. He feared it would find him again so he wore a scarf and fingerless gloves indoors, just in case the cold did come and turned out to be his mother. But he didn’t look up when the door of the shop opened and the winter wind rushed over the cuckoo clocks and carved horses and cows to stroke his cheek. Faster than a startled hare, Sipp tucked his chin deep into the knitted folds of his scarf and yanked the edge up over his mouth. His cool breath threaded through the yarn, mixing with the ever present scent of stone pine.
Madame swished out of the little parlor in the back where she’d been scratching in a ledger, past Sipp at his workbench, and into the front of the shop. She murmured a welcome to the patron, but the voice that returned the greeting sent a flicker of heat through Sipp, followed by something best described as terror. His carving knife stilled over the tiny wooden bird in his hand and he lifted his eyes.
Elise Bonnay stood amongst the clocks and toys, wrapped in a fur-trimmed cloak and chapeau. Her cheeks were bitten pink from the cold, and her golden hair tangled as if the wind had taken liberties with her loveliness. She brushed a lock from her face and turned gentian blue eyes on Madame.
“I;m here about my father’s timepiece.”
Madame’s back stiffened, and Sipp braced for the scolding that would come the moment Elise stepped out the door. But to Elise, Madame was all courtesy. “I’m sorry Miss Bonnay, but the clock is not yet finished.”
“Oh no, Madame Nikolas, you mistake my meaning.” Elise’s lips crumpled at the edges, and then her words tumbled out as if they could cover the ticking of the clocks. “I’m afraid we will not be able to pay the remaining sum this week. Georgette has fallen ill, and with Papa still away, I had to use the money I’d saved for his gift to pay the doctor.”
“Calm yourself, Miss Bonnay.” Madame’s voice stopped just short of warmth.
Elise’s gaze darted to Sipp, and in the moment before he looked away, he saw something familiar in her expression. Alarm. He instinctively reached to adjust his scarf.
Madame explained that the clock would be held until the Bonnays could pay for it. Her voice droned on, words fading as a sense of dread invaded the clockmaker’s shop. Sipp risked another peek at Elise’s drawn features, and his fingers tightened on the trinket in his hand. Georgette’s illness must be grave.
With a final not and stammered thanks, Elise left the shop. Before Madame could turn around, Sipp was off his stool and rushing to the back door.
“What’s this, then?” Madame’s voice prickled in Sipp’s ears as he snatched his cloak and pushed into the shadowed alley. He ought to give her an explanation. After all, he did still live here as an apprentice in a tiny room behind the shop, despite his seventeen years and journeyman skills. But the chance to talk to Elise overruled etiquette and would be worth Madame’s rebuke.
Dark ice, brittle and sharp, crusted the pathway behind the market street shops. For a moment, Sipp imagined patters in the frozen surface like stained glass, but he shook off the strange illusion. He pulled his cloak close around his thick work shirt and leather breeches then found his way up the gloomy alley. At the top of the hill, he rounded the chandler’s and emerged into Martigny’s square. He wrinkled his nose, glad his scarf blocked some of the awful tallow scent from Meister Gerber’s wares. When Sipp opened his own shop, he’d so it where the air was sweet and clear.
He spied the hem of Elise’s skirts swishing into the milliner’s and crossed the cobblestones, picking his way around mirrors of ice that tossed back his muffled reflection and piles of snow waiting to catch him should he stumble. He found a spot beneath the eaves of the inn, hidden from view of the clockmaker’s shop by the frozen fountain in the town center.
The townspeople gave him no notice as they hurried in and out of shops decorated with pine garlands and the likeness of the angelic Christkindl—the gift bearer. Once a year, the people of Martigny had no trouble accepting the notion of a strange, spirit child. If only that indulgence extended to their fellow humans of ill-favored birth. A gust skimmed over his shoulders and tugged at his coat. The scent of coming snow stole beneath his scarf to tease his senses.
In a moment, Elise emerged.
AUTHOR BIO
Evangeline writes fiction with hints of whimsy, glimmers of fantasy, and strokes of the supernatural. Her debut novel CURIO was an RT Reviews Top Pick for February 2016, and USA Today’s HEA blog called the world-building “two levels of genius.” A Young Adult Steampunk Fantasy with shades of The Wild, Wild West and The Wizard of Oz, CURIO sets coming of age and first love against a backdrop of steam-propelled greed and societal repression. Hypable included CURIO on its list of 10 Books that Celebrate Girl Power.
Evangeline lives in Colorado in a house stuffed full of animals and creative people that would surely go to ruin were it not for the watchful eye of a cattle dog named Willie.
Christian literary agent Chip MacGregor loves Christian fiction, but thinks these genres are dying. Or rather, these genres are transitioning to something new: “a handful of houses” that sell “clean” and “values”-based stories such as romance and end-times thrillers.1
Some people would effectively say it’s about time, because we don’t need more Christian fiction, we need more Christians writing fiction.2
Others, myself included, would like to reclaim and redeem the “Christian fiction” label.
But I also wouldn’t mind seeing the current “Christian fiction” industry die and be reborn.
Already I’m sure skeptical readers are roused.
How would rebirth help? Won’t the same problems just come back all over again?
Even if we fantasy fans stage some revolution, won’t we just have badly written fantasy that ignores the real world, and that refuses to show real people cussing and killing and whatnot?
Isn’t the problem with Christian fiction, well, because it’s too Christian in the first place?
Not so.
All complaints about Christian fiction are because the fiction isn’t Christian enough.
I started to write “most,” then settled on “all.” Because I think this is true without exception.
Why? Consider: if a Christian story shows only sentimentalized or “clean” reality, that is not a problem of being “too Christian.” The story’s issue is that it is not Christian enough. Real Christianity deals with our non-sentimental reality in which God is the infinite supreme Center of the universe, and all spiritually dead humans must reckon with this fact.
If a story is poorly made, implicitly deceiving readers that “this is what reality is or ought to be,” the problem isn’t too much Christianity. The problem is that it’s not Christian enough.
If fiction emphasizes “values,” as if morality is gospel truth, that’s not Christian enough.
Christians are called to truth, including the truth that people often swear. If we don’t like that reality, or never want to see hints of it in our stories ever, that’s not very Christian. I see much pushback against this legalism (though most of it seems based on the question-begging objection why can’t we? rather than why should we?). But the notion is still around. Conservative columnist Cal Thomas recently noted of an Oscar-nominated film:
After counting more than a dozen uses of the f-word in the first 15 minutes [of a movie], I ejected it from my DVD player. Screenwriters actually think average people talk like this.3
This is naïve. If you spend any time with average Christians or conservatives, of course they don’t talk like this. If you hang with average non-Christian people, to say nothing of most screenwriters, they almost assuredly do. Ignoring this truth is not very Christian.
Truth: Reality is messy and beautiful and ugly. People can feed the hungry and love their children on their way to Hell, while professing Christians may be hateful or racist.
This truth is a Christian truth. Stories that deny this truth aren’t very Christian.
Truth: Our excellent God ought to inspire us to enjoy and make excellent stories.
This truth is also a Christian truth. Stories that deny this truth aren’t very Christian.
Another truth is that if society really keeps going with this whole “men and women are interchangeable” notion, you could logically get a sex dystopia. Christian publishers and secular publishers would avoid such a novel, not because it’s “not Christian enough,” but because it’s too Christian. And at present, both sets of readers—secular or mainstream evangelical—don’t want to explore those Christian ideas because they’re too scary.
Many of the most lackluster Christian stories I’ve seen or read don’t really seem to want the Christian fiction label either.
They don’t star strong Christian characters. They star secular or backslidden characters.
They don’t offer strong Christian readers a “simulation” of people and realities. They feign to teach nonbelievers, or else backslidden Christians, how to recover faith basics.4
Of course, these stories are still meant only for Christians. We just like to pretend the story is made to evangelize, because we think this is the highest purpose of a supportable story.
Deeply Christian stories would own our depths, own the cultures, and even own the abject anime-level strangeness of worshiping a miracle-working carpenter who died long ago.
So if lesser-Christian stories are dying, good. Let the straw burn away.5
In the ashes, we may find a glorious, blazing creature that may take us to far better stories.
But you don’t fix Christian fiction by eliminating it entirely, or basing the stories around non-Christian figures, or making it more “secular,” or sticking with basic Christian themes.
You can only fix Christian fiction by making it more Christian.
I suspect that if a project like this was launched, its managers would make a concerted effort to screen out anyone with religious beliefs, for the purposes of conflict avoidance but more importantly for the simple fact that the human heart naturally shuns God.
I recently watched a six-part miniseries called Ascension on Netflix. It was originally broadcast on the SyFy Channel in 2014 but like most SyFy shows, I watched it go by (can’t wait for season two of The Expanse, though). Ascension tells the story of a massive rocket ship that presumably took off from Earth in the 1960s as part of a secret NASA program that would send a group of incredibly attractive Americans on a one-hundred-year voyage to a nearby star system to colonize a new planet. I don’t want to give too much away, but suffice it to say that things are not what they seem and we uncover many nefarious plots and deceptions.
There are only about six hundred people on board the ship, all selected for their skills and intelligence as well as their breeding potential (homosexuals were intentionally left out). Everything is very calculated and precise, because there is no help if something goes wrong. The ship is humanity’s best hope for survival, a chance for a brighter future on another world. Everything that is on and off the ship is quite deliberate.
It is for this reason that I was struck by one conspicuous absence: the total lack of religion on board the ship. No mention is made of religion of any kind, and there are no clerics or chapels or shrines or holy texts. The passengers on board the ship are not very diverse in the global sense of the word: they are all English-speaking Americans and largely white, which would make sense given the social attitudes of the 1960s. It would have been a bit odd (though politically correct) if the writers included a token Muslim or Buddhist among the expected ranks of Christians, but the writers avoided the issue altogether and abolished religion from this giant leap for mankind.
This got me wondering…What if such an endeavor actually took place? How would religion, specifically Christianity, fit in? Of course, God does not “fit in” with our lives; we fit in with Him, but the unbelieving world doesn’t know that, and I doubt it would make any special effort to include Him in its grand plans. I suspect that if a project like this was launched, its managers would make a concerted effort to screen out anyone with religious beliefs, for the purposes of conflict avoidance but more importantly for the simple fact that the human heart naturally shuns God.
But what if religion is included, either deliberately or by accident, since in any gathering of hundreds of people, you are certain to find several believers of numerous faiths? What would Christianity look like, a mere speck among the stars, only a few devoted believers keeping the flame burning? Would the unbelieving passengers be drawn to it or be driven from it? Spending your entire life encased in a metal tube, hurtling through the void of space at incomprehensible speeds must surely make one tremble at their own frailty and mortality. It is in times of despair and hopelessness that we are drawn closest to God, and while it may be a temptation to marvel at mankind’s achievement in sending a spore of itself to another world to sprout and grow, the infinite possibilities of disaster and instant death must weigh heavily on every mind and heart. I suspect that God’s grace would find fertile soil in those hearts and a starship chapel would be packed every Sunday.
I highly doubt that humanity will ever escape this rock but since we are the temple of the Holy Spirit, we carry God’s love with us wherever we go, even if it’s to the stars. And I would trust that no matter how hard men work to exclude Him and filter Him out, His light would still shine.
We had three entries that received a high number of thumbs up, and a number of others in double digits. Clearly there was a lot to like in these submissions. I hope the writing challenge has encouraged and inspired writers to continue developing their storytelling skills.
As always, we’ve selected the top three, based on visitor responses over these past two weeks. So here, in alphabetical order by last name, are your 2017 Spec Faith Winter Writing Challenge finalists:
Laura VanArendonk Baugh
Liv K. Fisher
Jenelle Schmidt.
All that’s left is to select the winner, and that’s in your hands. Choose from these finalists and vote in the poll at the end of this post for one entry you think is best.
The entry receiving the most votes will be the winner, and the author will receive a $25 e-gift card from either Amazon or B&N. (In case of a tie, I’ll draw for the winner).
Voting will last until midnight (Pacific time), Sunday, January 29.
And now the finalists’ entries:
By Laura VanArendonk Baugh
Kendall didn’t care if the other candidates thought he was power-hungry—nothing could stop him from going after his destiny. Not the sleet pounding his eyes, not the wind loosening his nail-tearing grip on the rock face, and certainly not the wails of the loser dangling one-armed below him.
Trey was deadweight from the start, in Kendall’s opinion – he’d told the others – and if he fell, the team would only be stronger for having been weeded. They’d been told the challenges couldn’t be completed without teamwork, but Kendall didn’t believe that. So far he’d completed each physical challenge alone, and while the sorting puzzle initially stumped him, once he’d seen how Liz organized the others, he’d managed to work a good bit on his own. They’d insisted he help them, but what if one of them made a critical mistake? Working alone, he shared neither risk nor credit.
He knew the looks the other teams gave him – not grateful, not exactly, but faintly pleased. Like they were glad he worked alone. Just showed how they underestimated him.
He would beat them all in the end.
Trey shrieked, swinging over the chasm, scraping for toeholds.
“Kendall!” Liz ordered through the sleet. “Help him!”
She hung about twelve feet above Kendall, clinging like lichen. Ordering him, as if she were in charge. Kendall’s frustration and disdain burst free again. “We can’t lose the time!”
“Kendall, go back for him!”
A fist-sized stone broke loose in his hand but his toehold saved him. He observed the stone and realized, I could end this argument. Without Trey, there’d be less deadweight.
He twisted to judge the necessary arc. Trey’s eyes stretched in comprehending horror.
A scrape of stone interrupted Kendall as Liz half-climbed, half-slid down the face – directly above him, against all protocol. “What are you doing?!”
Her eyes sparked against his. “Weeding.”
She kicked into Kendall’s face, tearing him free from his climb.
– – – – –
By Liv K. Fisher
Kendall didn’t care if the other candidates thought he was power-hungry—nothing could stop him from going after his destiny… even if his destiny was a chicken pot pie.
It was all quite embarrassing, really. Kendall hadn’t *wanted* to enter an eating competition. But his mother had demanded it. Apparently, being a part of the galaxy’s lowest social class meant placing oneself against those of the like.
The wealthy, cyborg judge would watch, amused, as each citizen stuffed their face, and the person who appeared most desperate would win a six-month supply of food. This happened twice every year. Twice, every year, and it was broadcast—live—on television. And Kendall hated it.
– – – – –
By Jenelle Schmidt
Kendall didn’t care if the other candidates thought he was power-hungry—nothing could stop him from going after his destiny. He wasn’t sure what his destiny was, but it was certain it would never happen if he was not chosen as the apprentice of the Royal Wizard Oolumph. He didn’t particularly like Wizard Oolumph. The man had been staying at the inn for the past few days and was generally impatient and disagreeable, but Kendall could think of no better way to be available for destiny to find him. Surely destiny could not miss a wizard’s apprentice! Not like it could if he remained a lowly stable-boy for the local inn.
The morning of the audition was cold. Foggy breath steamed about the candidates’ faces as they waited in line. The audition swept past in a blur that Kendall could barely remember once it was over.
It felt like hours before the announcement was made.
Kendall’s spirits sank as the name was announced. It wasn’t his. Kendall could not bear to watch the winner. Disheartened, he shuffled back to the stables behind the inn. He would be sure to find a sympathetic ear in his friend and fellow stable-boy, Bernard. However, upon arriving at the stable, Kendall could not find Bernard anywhere.
“Ah, you’re back,” the innkeeper said, seeing Kendall’s face poke around the doorway.
“Where’s Bernard?” Kendall asked glumly.
“Ah, young Bernard,” the innkeeper ran a calloused hand through his hair. “That was something else. While you were off at the auditions, Sir Andrew rode through in a great hurry. He needed a page for an important mission he is undertaking for King Sebastian. Was willing to pay good money to buy an apprentice’s time. Bernard was the only one around, and though I hated the thought of potentially losing both of you, I couldn’t deny the boy his destiny.”
– – – – –
Be sure to share this post and poll with your friends and family, your Google+ circles and your Pinterest people, your Facebook friends and Twitter followers. The more voters, the better.
I encourage you to help all the writers by giving some feedback (besides the thumbs). That way, even those who don’t make the top three can benefit from their participation. Thanks in advance.
Tomorrow, Sunday, January 22, is the last day to give feedback and thumbs votes for the Writing Challenge entries you believe are the best in this year’s Winter Challenge. (Thumbs posted after midnight will not be counted).
If you haven’t done so yet, read the fourteen entries and then leave a comment or click on the thumbs-up option to register your choices for the best works. The top three will then reach the finalist list and be included in a poll on Monday.
Some of the entries came in at the end of last week, so be sure to take time to look at the second page as well. It would be a shame if an entry didn’t make the finals simply because fewer readers stopped by the second week.
All that said, I think the entries are top notch. Whichever ones end up in the finals, other good ones will be left out. It’s a sad reality of contests.
Consequently, I encourage you to help all the writers by giving some feedback (besides the thumbs). That way, even those who don’t make the top three can benefit from their participation. Thanks in advance.
We read because we imagine. Our Creator gifted us with fantastic, weird, and curious minds. We wonder as we travel through realms onto scenes that steal our breath, make us swoon, rally us to fight, convince us again that there are Truths—and souls—worth dying for.
There are books that invite us to do this again and again.
And then there are books that don’t.
You can help us celebrate novels that make people want to read them until they’re worn out.
That’s what the Realm Awards are about. Realm Makers exists to celebrate art that is excellent, speculative, and the handiwork of people of faith. Often, the world sees “Christian” and “art” connected to “shoddy” and “craftsmanship.” At Realm Makers we want to turn that on its head. We believe in skill, in doing what we do unto Christ to the very best of our ability.
And that’s why we want to celebrate remarkable fiction.
The Realm Award is our Book of the Year. Right now—until Jan. 22, Sunday night at 11:59:59—speculative novels released in 2016 can still be entered. If you’ve written one that you believe deserves a shot, enter. If you’ve read one that you’re confident others will love, contact the author and encourage them to enter.
(And don’t let me hear you saying you don’t want to bother the author by being a fan. I don’t know a single author who isn’t thrilled to hear that their words affected someone. It’s true.)
The Parable Award is a celebration of excellence in cover design. Since we began the award in 2013, image quality on speculative fiction books in the family-friendly market has been improving. We hope that, by raising awareness of what makes a quality book cover and by celebrating excellence, authors and designers will continue to strive toward that standard. These covers are rated on execution, typography, and general effect. Same deadline, so enter quickly.
Whether the books are written for a faith-based readership or for the general market, believers are called to write and design (and play music) skillfully. Celebrate the authors and artists who do that well!
Christian fiction as we know it is going to almost completely go away.
He describes more: Christian fiction’s hardcore fanbase is aging, decreasing sales of their favorite genres, such as “Amish romance.” And other readers “have discovered there are quality issues with CBA mystery, suspense and thriller genres.” So here’s what’s next:
[Christian Booksellers Association] fiction is going to morph into “clean romance” and “values fiction” and “apocalyptic biblical thrillers” aimed specifically at a shrinking group of hard-core conservative evangelical readers in their 50’s. There are only a handful of houses still acquiring Christian fiction these days, and some of them are shifting to doing high-quality literary or women’s stories for a broader people of faith, or a slim list of suspense novels, rather than clearly religious stories aimed only at the faithful.
But don’t hold hope readers will switch to “New Adult, Fantasy, or Spec Fiction,” he says.
That’s where I come in. I’m not a publication professional but a semi-professional fan of fantasy. When I was a teen, I read Christian fiction. Now that I’m a grown-up, I still enjoy Christian fiction. And “secular” or general-market fiction. It’s not too much to ask for both.
This is my challenge whenever “young creatives,”1 as MacGregor says, debate whether Christians ought chiefly to enjoy (or write) “Christian fiction,” or “general-market fiction.”
Some say: “We need Christian fiction to give clean, wholesome alternatives to the world.”
Others insist: “No, we don’t more ‘Christian fiction.’ All that does is create a bubble. Instead we mainly need Christians-writing-fiction to avoid content limits and reach the real world.”
I question the divide itself. We need both Christian fiction and general-market fiction. For different reasons. But maybe not for the reasons fans and critics would believe.
Let’s explore quick definitions, then pros and cons for both “classifications” of story.
When I say “Christian fiction,” I mean “stories made by Biblical Christians2 that explore biblical themes, usually made for other Biblical Christians to understand and enjoy.”
When I say “general-market fiction” or “secular fiction,” I mean “stories made by anyone3 that explore simulations of people in reality, usually made for anyone to enjoy.”
1. Scripture supports Christians pursuing both kinds of stories.
Scripture is full of examples showing Christians doing two kinds of work in the world:
Overt “ministry” work, such as pastoring and missionary-ing and teaching. This fulfills the Great Commission of making disciples in Jesus’s name.4 We join a kingdom of redeemed people whom Jesus will give a renewed creation forever.
Subtler “ministry” work, such as creating and engineering and science. This fulfills God’s earlier commission to humans, the Cultural Mandate,5 to imitate His creative work in the world. We build the kingdom by reminding people what kinds of things God wanted us to do that glorify him forever, though today we’re limited by sin.
For Christian stories the divide is not exact. I would not always file “Christian fiction” under “Great Commission work” and “secular fiction” under “Cultural Mandate work.” A Christian could mix and match. But overall, Christian fiction ought to aid in the disciple-making Jesus encourages—not simply by repeating Gospel message basics or trying to get the reader saved, but by exploring reality as Jesus reveals it. And overall, Christians writing stories in the “secular” world ought to do much the same, though not for overt disciple-making.
To paraphrase the apostle Paul,6 therefore, the general-market Christian author cannot say to the Christian-market author, “I have no need of you.” And vice-versa.
2. Either kind of story has built-in content limits.
We get it, yes: mainstream Christian fiction doesn’t allow swear words or sex scenes.
And increasingly, mainstream secular fiction doesn’t allow in-depth Christian ideas.
So pick your poison. Both have limits. There is no such thing as a libertarian-free-will, content-limitless mass-media popular culture venue for Christian-made stories.
Sure, your usual CBA-friendly novel doesn’t give a flying fig for F-bombs. But in theory, you could pick up a Christian science fiction novel that naturally explores the concept of a sex dystopia, in which all social distinctions between men and women have been erased, until one handsome It, along with a beautiful Other-It, learn of this binary and lead a Revolution against the Government. You won’t find this novel in the CBA now, but someday you could.
So either genre you feel called to explore depends on your mission goals at that moment.
3. Both kinds of stories glorify God in the real world.
What glorifies God more: words or music? Sermons or fellowship? Sunsets or prayer?
Both of these glorify God in different ways. But depending on your needs or mission goals, you may need one or the other. You wouldn’t watch a sunset if a friend needs prayer. And if you’re hearing the Bible preached in a local church, it wouldn’t do to text with a friend.
And yet, whole books of the Bible—such as the Psalms—skillfully combined praise of God in both “earthly” means, such as art and nature, and “spiritual” means, such as the Law.
God doesn’t divide “the real world” into “church” and “reality.” He’s started the Church to help repair human souls in the real world. The Church exists for the world. But you can’t get to “saving the world” without going through the organized Church, subcultures and all.
Two mission fields
Occasionally at conferences, I meet authors who seem a bit defensive about their calling.
Maybe they think that if they say, “I like (or write) Christian stories,” you’ll assume they’re quaint and legalistic, naïve, possibly over-sheltered Precious Moments-collecting dweebs.
Or maybe they think that if they say, “I like (or write) stories in the general market,” you’ll assume they’re pagan, heretical, church-spurning compromisers who sell out the Gospel.
Neither set of assumptions is true. I say: Is it too much to ask for both?
If we learn to enjoy both, we may end up learning from each other. One way or another, together we are building the Kingdom of humans and stories that will last for eternity. And in God’s renewal of creation, all stories will be both Christian and “general market” stories.
What is with this term? “Creative” is an adjective. Let’s keep it that way. Or else, use Tolkien’s term “subcreator” to ground the noun more firmly in the concept that human creativity reflects God’s. But “creatives” sounds pretentious and annoyingly “millennial.” ↩
By Biblical Christians, I refer to a particular understanding of Gospel faith that has been common to orthodox Christian belief for nearly 2,000 years. These beliefs are drawn from Scripture and are often repeated in many confessions shared by thousands of denominations: for example, that all of reality is centered on the person and work of Jesus the God-Man, and human beings can only be saved from sin and death through His work for eternity. I follow a “must not contradict” approach to a professing Christian author’s stories that are called either “Christian fiction” or “Christians writing fiction.” That is, stories may not affirm every one of these beliefs. But they must not explicitly contradict this view of reality without subjecting to challenge the author’s professed faith. ↩
The term anyone comes with its own qualifiers. A story is usually intended first for a particular group of people, sorted by language, fandom, genre, interest (or willingness) to participate in certain story content, or familiarity with source material or genre or series. Even “general market” fiction isn’t really intended for everyone. Some stories simply manage to reach out to more types of people than others. This is why I gently refute people who say things like “we don’t need more ‘Christian fiction,’ we just need more Christians writing fiction.” Nope. Evangelicals need not be the only people group in history to be denied their own subculture. ↩
What is the purpose of a good book? Is it solely to provide entertainment, or to entertain with a deeper purpose?
Can a book that doesn’t include any obvious messages or themes still be a good story? Does it have value, or is its value based on what truths it displays?
Good and Bad Are Opinions
When it comes to reading books, everything is subjective. It’s not like plumbing, where there’s a clear right and wrong way to hook up the pipes. The value people assign to books is based on their personal preferences, not on a single guiding principle about what makes a book good or bad. (Foregoing a complicated discussion about the ins and outs of writing rules and story structure. I’m talking about different types of stories.)
Some readers love a historical romance.
Others prefer a swashbuckling adventure or a stimulating science fiction tale.
Some want a story that weaves meaningful themes into the narrative, while others only care about the thrill of the story itself.
Does that make one inherently better than another?
Of course not.
Books That Entertain
Some books are nothing more than fun, adventurous stories without any apparent themes or messages hidden in the story.
That’s fine. Not every book needs to say something profound about life or offer a look at a challenging issue.
Some people might think these books lack value because they’re shallow or they don’t deal with important issues.
Not true. That’s like saying a tootsie roll isn’t food. It is, but we give it a different value than, say, a mouth-watering plate of turkey and mashed “po-tay-toes.”
We don’t expect candy to have the same benefits as a healthy meal, but that doesn’t discount your tootsie rolls. (There’s always a place for chocolate, right?)
Same with books.
Books That Entertain with a Deeper Purpose
Stormlight Archive
If you dig deep enough, I think most books fall into this category. Even if it’s not obvious on the surface, they strive to reveal some deeper truth or tackle a specific topic.
Mercy and law contrasted (Les Miserables)
Half a million things, from storytelling purposes to religion to truth to convictions to loyalty (Stormlight Archive series)
Returning to the candy and food analogy, books that merely entertain us are like tootsie rolls—enjoyable while they last, but fleeting and lacking any long-term benefit.
Books that weave a compelling theme into an exciting story are like a slice of filet mignon—delicious and nourishing at the same time. Those are the books we enjoy in the moment but that stay with us long after we’ve read the last page.
I’m not discounting the “candy” books. They have their place. But the “steak” books are the ones truly worth reading.
What About Preachy Books?
By Source, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8997910
Sometimes, people think that when a book deals with a specific topic in a pointed way, it becomes preachy. Nay-nay, I say. Consider a couple examples.
THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE WARDROBE
On the surface, this is a fun children’s fantasy story. Talking animals, a world found inside a wardrobe, a quest to save the enchanted world from the evil witch.
That’s all great, but the story doesn’t stop there. It goes much deeper, dealing with themes of love, redemption, and sacrifice.
THE HUNGER GAMES
This wildly popular series is one of the best examples of combining a gripping story with profound themes. The stories revolve around the Games, the rebellion of the districts, and the love triangle among Katniss, Peeta, and Gale.
But beneath the action, the themes flow like a strong undercurrent, refusing to be ignored:
What are the effects of violence?
Where do we draw lines of morality?
What are the consequences of tyrannical rule?
Would you call those books preachy? I don’t think so. If a book stresses a key theme in an overbearing way, instead of in a way that naturally flows from the story, that’s preaching—and a recipe for irritated readers.
But a strong message doesn’t make a book preachy by default.
All Books Have Value
In this case, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Everyone has different tastes, and that’s fine. Personally, I think all books have value to some extent, but the ones that probe the deep questions have more meat on the bone, so to speak.
What do you think gives a book value? Which type of book do you prefer to read?
*This post appeared in original form on zacharytotah.com, March 25, 2015.*
Evangeline writes fiction with hints of whimsy, glimmers of fantasy, and strokes of the supernatural. Her debut novel CURIO was an RT Reviews Top Pick for February 2016, and USA Today’s HEA blog called the world-building “two levels of genius.” A Young Adult Steampunk Fantasy with shades of The Wild, Wild West and The Wizard of Oz, CURIO sets coming of age and first love against a backdrop of steam-propelled greed and societal repression. Hypable included CURIO on its 
But I also wouldn’t mind seeing the current “Christian fiction” industry die and be reborn.
We get it, yes: mainstream Christian fiction doesn’t allow swear words or sex scenes.
What glorifies God more: words or music? Sermons or fellowship? Sunsets or prayer?
