I’ve started taking up my personal devotions more systematically lately (fortunately I started this just before I lost my meal ticket… er, renter, so I can’t accuse myself of doing it just to curry favor in Heaven. My mind does work this way. Really). I’ve switched from my old NIV Study Bible (great notes) to an English Standard Version Bible.
I like it. I’ve been reading Dynamic Equivalency Bibles for decades now, seduced by the argument that if you really want to convey the sense of the original you’ve pretty much got to rewrite everything. Moving back to a more literal translation, I get a pleasant sense of solidity. Nobody’s telling me what they think the text says. They trust me to be a grownup and be able to read books written for grownups.
My first Bible was King James, and then I got an RSV (the old one, before they went all PC and started fiddling with gender and stuff). The ESV is a direct descendent of the old RSV, and so far I’m pleased and comforted.
The following almost feels as if it’s connected, but I can’t think how.
When I was writing song lyrics in an obscure Christian singing group, there was one thing I never did (actually I never did lots of things, notably make time with girls, but that’s another story). I never claimed that “God wrote this song.”
I saw it way too many times. Some sweet, sincere kid with a guitar would say, “God wrote this song. It just came to me while I was laying in bed, and I got up and wrote it down in fifteen minutes. So I know it came from God.”
Then he/she would play the thing and it would be repetitious and clichéd, and you could always count on the word “strife” being employed in contexts where you’d never use “strife” if you didn’t have a desperate need for a rhyme for “life.”
And I wanted to scream at them, “Don’t you realize what you’re saying here? You’re saying that God’s a lousy lyricist!”
I never did, though. I’m too kind-hearted. And cowardly.
I thought of that today when a book crossed my desk at work. It was a novel written by a man whose shoes I am not worthy to polish. He’s one of those unsung saints the newspapers and magazines will never profile, someone who’s given his life in sacrificial service to Christ and his neighbor, living from hand to mouth and enduring a fair amount of danger along the way.
He wrote a novel.
And it’s lousy.
I want to tell people (I’m telling a few right now) that the fact that you have something to say, and a story to tell, and spiritual insight, doesn’t make you a writer of fiction.
Sincerity won’t do it. I might be very sincere about wanting to build a church, to the glory of God. I might pray over every nail, and work with a heart full of devotion.
But that won’t make it a good church building.
Because I’m not a competent carpenter.
Writing fiction is a craft, just like carpentry. It has its own tools and skills, protocols and shortcuts. Regardless of how good your basic idea is, the nuts and bolts have to be properly tightened, the corners squared.
I’m not telling you to stay away from fiction if you’re not a “professional.” I’m not saying I belong to some priesthood which alone is privileged to touch the holy written word.
I’m just saying if you want to get into the guild, you’ve got to learn your craft. And that will take time and diligence.
right….you’re right. EVERYONE has to pay their dues. But along with learning the craft and doing the work, one has to kill that #$#@ inside voice that says “you can’t do this”…”that’s so stupid”…”nobody is really interested in this junk”… Writers talk about that inspiration from their muse, but rarely mention that tormentor that wrestles them every step of the way.
Hmmm? maybe some should listen…?
oh jeez,…ignore the above. so whiney.
Good point. I think, in most cases, those who really want to do a thing can (I guess American Idol proves me wrong, but I never watch American Idol. And writing’s different from singing, because it doesn’t require a special physical capability). But so many people, especially in the age of the word processor, think their passion is all the qualification they need.
Something for y’all to bounce around:
How much of the lousy (might as well use that word, as it fits so often) fiction you see in the CBA realm is due to someone starting out with the “I’ve got a message, so let’s wrap a story around it” mindset?
A purely subjective guess: About 99%.
life/strife – hmmm. wife?
Judy, maybe there’s a novel in that comment!!
I know all about this. I once took a creative writing class and poured my heart (and message) into a story. I’ll never forget what the teacher said: “A person might go on a tennis court with a ball and racquet and do things that I would not recognize as tennis. That’s what has happened here. This is something, but it’s not storytelling.” That was a long time ago, but it clued me in to the fact that writing is about a lot more than just having a passion or an idea. I’ve since learned a very great deal about writing non-fiction, but I fear the realm of fiction remains fairly opaque to me. What Lars does in his stories feels a lot like magic to me.
It is magic. There are other ways to spin it, but at its base, it’s magic.
Have you seen a cartoon with this caption?
“I’d like to share a song that the Lord gave me a year ago, and even though he gave it to me, any reproduction of this song in any form without my written consent will constitute infringement of copyright law, which grants me the right to sue your pants off. Praise God….”
heh, heh
What I do is magic? Great. Now I’ll be in trouble with certain Fundamentalists, who’ll be boycotting me like J. K. Rowling.
Wait. That might be good for sales…
Good post. I wonder sometimes with folks that get into to something and think that God has “led” them to do something but they have not apparently been “led” to do the work that it takes to get there. I wasn’t able to simply walk into the courtrooms of Virginia and say, “I’d like to start practicing law now.” I had to do three HARD years of law school and pass one of the hardest tests I’ve ever taken.
And how often does it happen that folks who succeed in one area think that because they were successful in that that they can do something completely different? I don’t get it.