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10 - 20 - 2004
Writing and Ministry…
(1 comment)
I wasn’t going to write until we got back from our family trip west, but this morning I was reading Michael Card’s Scribbling in the Sand and want to comment on a quote by Harold Best in that book: ‘Don’t hide behind ministry as a way of highlighting or even sacramentalizing what you are doing. To an authentic Christian, ministry is simply another word for living a life of constant worship and witness’
A long time ago an author told me that he considered his Christian novel writing ‘his ministry’. I was young and inexperienced and it sounded very holy and good and spiritual to me. But there was something behind his words that startled me a bit. It was as if he were saying that there are two kinds of Christian novelists in the world; those who write because they, well, just write, and those who write because it’s a ministry. And he was making it perfectly clear to me that those who write as a ministry are more spiritual and holy than those who just write because they write. He was also letting me know thyat he was firmly in that former camp.
Best’s quote continues: ‘So, don’t separate ministry out as if it brings special luster or mystique to the ordinary acts of service.”
Yes, writing novels is my ministry, but cooking dinner is my ministry, and so is doing laundry and writing thank you cards and singing in church and having coffee with a friend at Starbucks and writing emails and teaching my fiction class at the university and writing my (so-called) secular mystery short stories and even writing in this blog. These are ministry. My whole life is ministry. Everything I do is, or should be acts of worship to God.
Posted 2004-11-01
I just wanted to respond to your blog on writing as a ministry. Every time someone says to me, "What a ministry you have!" I have to admit I get a little uncomfortable. I write because I write. Like I do anything else. I know in my heart that anything we do, when done to God, is ministry. But why should a novelist be singled out as a minister any more than the gas man or the lady running the drive-thru at Wendy's? Truth is, we shouldn't.
thanks! lisa --
www.lisasamson.com
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2004-10-20
Short shorts…
(1 comment)
On the first of November I will formally begin my next novel. So, what am I doing now with my days? Well, I’m not sitting on the couch eating bon bons and watching soap operas. I’m devoting the writing part of my day to short stories. I like reading and writing short stories, and lately have been writing quite a few. A month ago I had one of my mystery shorts accepted for inclusion in an anthology of mystery stories by the Crime Writers of Canada. More about that later…
But here’s the little known fact – writing short stories isn’t easier than writing a novel. When I write my novels, I normally don’t outline anything. When I try to, when I’m in panic mode and feel I’ve got to know what’s going to happen, I usually work myself into a worried frenzy and then have to go back and redo it anyway. No, my way of writing novels is just to start writing. And then let the characters tell me what they want to say or do.
But somehow, I thought, writing short stories should be different. But they’re not. I have to start writing and then let the story take me where it will. The one I’m finishing up today began with a line – one line flitted into my thinking and I wrote it down:
‘Rose’s mother died by climbing to the top of the lighthouse and throwing herself off.’
That’s all I had. And the only way I was going to get more was to begin writing.
Just a quick note: On Friday my husband and I fly out to see our seven month old granddaughter. (We’ll also be seeing her parents!) So, nothing will be posted here until after Halloween.
Which reminds me…
I live in the Canadian Maritimes, and in all of my days of Halloweening, have never seen such house decorations as I have seen since moving here. Yesterday on my daily walk, I walked past little white ghosts strung up in trees, little plastic pumpkins that light up at night around door frames. I saw stuffed scarecrow people (I don’t know what that’s all about) sitting on porches, and window decorations.
When we moved here ten years ago, our son was with us. We saw these scarecrow people and decided that maybe instead of stuffing clothes with straw and putting them on a chair on your front porch, we could each do four hour shifts of dressing up in plaid flannel shirts and sitting on a lawn chair on the front lawn.
I’m off – we leave on Friday and my computer goes into the shop on Thursday to get a ‘refit’ and ‘repair’. I’ll keep you posted.
Posted 9:55 pm ast 2004-09-19
Kentville, NS, has some amazing "pumpkin people." Kinda like the scarecrows, but with pumpkins for heads. It's fun to drive by the display at one end of town and see all the work done at the same time every year. (I wouldn't have the patience for that.) BTW, I outline when I'm in the middle of the novel and come to a lazy moment, where I want to accomplish something and yet I don't want to do anything I consider work. The outlining or any other analysis counts as writing time and usually gets me more interested in the story. (Sometimes confused, too.)
I stink at writing short stories - everything becomes so complicated in my head, and my storytelling so wordy, that I must call it a novel!
Becca
2004 - 10 - 11
All things mystery…
Today is Thanksgiving day here in Canada. My husband and I are enjoying a quiet morning. He is sitting on the couch reading In A Dry Season by Peter Robinson, and I’m here on the other side of the couch writing this. Dar Williams is singing to us via CD, and outside the trees are ten shades of red and orange. It’s windy and looks cold. It’s nice to be inside. Soon, we shall join friends for Thanksgiving dinner on this very Canadian celebration of harvest.
We got back late last night from Toronto and the Bouchercon mystery conference. This huge mystery convention was named for Anthony Boucher (1911 – 1968) a reviewer and writer for the San Francisco Chronicle and a great supporter of all things mystery. Every serious mystery fan knows about Bouchercon. This was my first time at Bouchercon, and was so pleased that my husband, a HUGE fan of the genre, was also able to come.
The four day conference packed with panels and opportunities to sign books and meet other authors and to have serious discussions about who is more damaged Matt Scudder or Spenser and not have people think you’re nuts for wondering about this.
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One of the great things about mystery conferences are all the free books you get to take home. Publishers use it as a chance to give away their latest releases. Because Rik and I were both registered, we each got a bag of books (all different from each other) and then because Rik simply cannot stand to be somewhere without volunteering, he offered to pack up the ‘extra’ books – the duplicates that no one wanted - the last day, and ended up with another bagful.
And then there were all the books we bought: Ian Rankin, Peter Robinson and SJ Rozan to name just a few. Just about the only book I wanted and didn’t end up buying was Every Secret Thing by Laura Lippman. Since that is a book I want to read I shall purchase it locally.
A warm Thanksgiving to all of you...
2004 - 09 - 06
Corner Gas – one good reason why it’s nice to be Canadian…
(1 comment)
Last night my husband and I watched the season premiere of Corner Gas, a very Canadian sit-com. It sort of reminds me of a rural Canadian Seinfeld. It’s not really about anything. It’s just got these quirky characters walking around and interacting with each other. Last night’s episode had Hank, the young – well, I don’t know how you’d describe him – fellow trying to make a point that Canadians have embraced the metric system for everything except when indicating how tall (or short as the case may be) they are.
The episode also had café owner Lacey asking people if she was a prettier female than Brent was handsome as a male. (See, I can’t even get the words to make sense!) In the same episode, Davis, the RCMP officer was shooting crows with his gun, and then, of course, there is Oscar and Emma, Brent’s parents. It’s a great little show.
I don’t know if it’s broadcast on any U.S. cable or satellite stations, but it’s worth tuning into. I understand that it’s been nominated for an international Emmy. I’ll be rooting for it.
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If you want to see what this is all about, and visit the fictitious town of Dog River, Saskatchewan, go to their website, Cornergas.com. If you’ve got time on your hands there are all sorts of nifty little games you can play there.
Now, packing for Bouchercon…
Posted 10:04 am ast 2004-09-11
I love Corner Gas! I totally agree with Lacey's theory of adaptation. ;)
Go Canada!
Becca :)
2004-10-5
Religion and Murder and Incest...
(2 comments)
I've spent the morning shuffling through book boxes, pulling out copies of my books I want to take, packing up newsletters and business cards and my writerhall pens, my sign-up sheets and 'signed by author' stickers... On Thursday a.m. very early - very, very early, I board Air Canada's flight to Toronto where I'll be participating in the world's biggest mystery conference, Bouchercon. My husband is coming with me as 'fan' and 'spouse' of a mystery writer. I'll be on one panel, God Help us: Religion and Murder, Do They Mix?
I get asked that all the time with raised eyebrows, You're a Christian, and you write murder mysteries? A long time ago now, probably 20 years ago, a minister in a church I was attending was presenting a series of Sunday messages on the Ten Commandments. When he got to , 'Thou shalt not kill,' he said that the reading of mysteries was a direct violation of this commandment. No child of God should read murder mysteries, he told us. Well, I sat there with my hands on my lap suddenly wondering how many times an errant Ruth Rendell or Agatha Christie had been on my coffee table, opened and spine down, when he and his wife had visited.
I grew up reading mysteries. I loved Nancy Drew and Agatha Christie, and the Hardy Boys. But now, I was being told that this was something I was doing in direct violation of the commands of God.
So, I stopped reading mysteries. For about two weeks. Then I was back, this time reading them furtively, making sure they were well-hidden when the pastor visited.
I don't when it happened that I started writing them, and how it became okay. But somehow it did. When I started my career as a novelist I determined that I would write about how life really was. Did any of you see TD Jakes on Oprah the other day? He said that incest, particularly among fathers and daughters was an epidemic, and rampant within churches. Murders happen. Incest happens. Abuse happens. Stuff happens. People need to be healed. These are the stories I tell.
Posted 10:02 am ast 2004-09-11
With regards to your 10/5 blog entry, I'm writing a murder mystery that
features a Jim Jones type of character. I understand a lot of fiction is
entertainment, but as Christian writers, we want to convey something deeper. I
wonder if even one of the more than 900 people who died in the massacre in Guyana
would have seen the danger in Jones' teachings if they had read a book like
the one I'm writing. I wonder if any vulnerable soul read your novel Chat
Room, and was moved to get into fellowship at a local church, lessening the
opportunity for them to fall prey to internet predators.
Murder does happen, and we can all learn from a well-crafted
story--murder mystery, romance, whatever! I say, do like Jesus did--tell stories to
change hearts. I don't think He would have minded a good mystery.
Your Terri Addison mysteries inspire me. Both are by my bedside as I
write.
Write on, Sister,
Claudia
http//ragamuffindiva.blogspot.com
Posted 9:55 pm ast 2004-09-05
To that pastor, and all who come up with such ridiculous statements, I say, "Poppycock." If I went by their rules, reading the Bible would be a sin because it contains tales of murder, incest, adultery, rape, etc.
I think the honesty we see in the Word of God makes His love and faithfulness that much clearer and wonderful. We can trust Him, even when mankind disappoints and betrays.
Becca
2004 - 10 - 4
Sign Painting...
Saturday night I dreamed that all the road signs were blank. My husband and I were driving through our town and all of them were empty, void, no words. All those ubiquitous green rectangles? Empty. Because it was a dream, the obvious questions weren’t asked, like, ‘what happened to the words?’
Instead, in the dream, I turned to my husband and said, ‘It’s a good thing we know where we’re going then.’
‘Yep, it’s a good thing,’ was his answer, ‘With all the signs like this.’
I woke up thinking there must be some profound nugget of truth that I should be gleaning from this. Either that or was it too much Chinese food the night before.
Yesterday morning, still thinking about the dream, wondered about a world with no signs. Imagine no road signs, no detour markers, no maps, no street signs.
Signs tell people where they are, the correct route to take, and how many miles it takes until you get there. it occurred to me, while I was sitting in church yesterday morning, that’s that what I do. I’m a writer. I paint words on signs.
Jesus, through his parables, through his stories, was essentially a sign painter. Thinking about it, I realize I have no higher calling than to tell stories, to be a sign painter.
These are my thoughts today as I begin a writing week.
posted 2:06 ast
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