A Call to Pens 2015-2016

Patrick Henry College's A Call to Pens is excited to announce its 2015-2016 short story competition!

Students in the first division, ages twelve to fifteen, will craft stories exploring the theme "Unmerited Compassion. Students in the second division, ages sixteen to eighteen, will pen fiction with the theme "Perseverance Through Failure."

Prizes will be awarded to the top three entries in both divisions.

The deadline is February 8, 2016.

For more information and contest rules, visit our website at phc.edu/acalltopens.php.

Blessings,
Sarah Armstrong
A Call to Pens Coordinator

Winner notifications

Hi everyone!

At long last, the judges' votes have been tallied, and we have our winners! E-mail notifications are going out now; expect an announcement on the blog at the end of the week.

Thank you for sending your stories and making this competition so much fun to judge! Every year the judges and I  enjoy reading your works. May the Lord bless your writing development!

Blessings,

Alicia Constant
A Call to Pens Contest Coordinator

First round of judging is wrapping up...

Hello everyone! Just a quick update-- all the judges' results are filtering in, and I am tabulating results for the first round of judging. Out of over 200 stories received, they have chosen around 40 to move on to the second round. If everything goes according to schedule, hopefully our second round will begin this week! We will be picking our winners, so please stay tuned for more results.

Blessings,

Alicia Constant

Slice and dice: writing with limits

The Call to Pens deadline is very quickly approaching! With only a week left to go, you've written the perfect story. There is only one problem: you're over the word limit. Those angry numbers stare at you and perhaps you wonder how on earth you can sacrifice your wonderful creation to meet a seemingly arbitrary rule. But as an editor and a journalist, I can tell you that it's possible. Often, you can strengthen your writing by cutting out a lot of quite unnecessary words.

How is such slicing and dicing possible, you ask? You must take a surgeon's scalpel to your writing and cut it unmercifully, but for the purpose of healing. If you cut words correctly, your piece will be healthier for the word-surgery.

If you're...

500+ words over: Ask yourself whether you've tried to accomplish too much in one story. A short story should have one well-developed main character; you don't have much space to tell more than one story. Do all the events in the story accomplish your purpose? For the 1,500-word category, you have enough words for only a couple scenes. Each scene should move your character toward a single focused climax. If your hero is fighting dragons and suddenly remembers that he needs toothpaste at the grocery store, take out the grocery store (unless, of course, toothpaste is essential to your character's development). Short stories should start en media res, or in the middle of the action. The beginning of the story is not the time for you to give a vacuous wind-up of the character's past history, friends, and relations.

<200 words over: You'd be surprised how easy it is to trim out some unwanted words without losing content. For example, do a search in your story for the word "that." "She knew that he would come" loses nothing when it's shortened to, "She knew he would come." Try to make every word tell. Take out adjectives and adverbs and replace them with stronger verbs, i.e. "she cried loudly" to "she wailed," or "he ran quickly" to "he sprinted." It will save you words and make your writing stronger.

You can also remove trite, overused words such as "quite," "very," "perhaps," and "suddenly." (Don't warn us the crash is sudden before it happens; crash that car and let us be surprised!) Let's take the 85-word opening paragraph to this blog post as an example:

The Call to Pens deadline is very quickly approaching approaches! With only a week left to go, you've written the perfect story. There is only one problem: But you're over the word limit. Those angry numbers stare at you and perhaps you wonder how on earth you can  to sacrifice your wonderful creation for an to meet a seemingly arbitrary rule. But As an editor and a journalist, I know can tell you that it's possible. Often, you can strengthen your writing by cutting out a lot of quite unnecessary words.

The new version is only 60 words. We've lost 25 words of fat and our writing is healthier for it.

Be a fearless editor, my friends! We are looking forward to reading your creations.

For the judges,

Alicia

The Importance of Story

"Winning entries will thoughtfully reflect a Christian worldview, but not necessarily in an overt manner."

What does this "hint" in the submission guidelines mean? I'd like to take a moment to expand upon Erik's post from last week and talk a bit about what your judges will be looking for when you submit that story by February 1.

Erik talked about the problem with emphasizing a didactic message over the story itself. Is it important to talk about the message that stories convey? Certainly. In fact, I would say it's vital to analyze worldviews in literature and determine whether or not they match up to the Biblical standard.

However, portraying a theme is somewhat like chasing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow: the harder you run at it, the further away it grows. In other words, messages in literature can distract you so much from the story itself that the messages lose their potency.

The beauty of fiction is that it is created to show, not tell. Consider the following photographs:

Image credit: PA Forestry Dept.

Image credit: Flickr

Which image best captures the beauty of a tree? Which one makes you catch your breath in awe at its aesthetic symmetry? Which image would you rather hang in your living room, for your guests to admire? Both are pictures of trees. Both are factually correct. Yet while the image on the top might be fascinating for someone with an interest in botany, the image on the bottom is the one that makes most people stare in wonder.

What's the difference? The image on the top tells everything; it's a diagram. It leaves no mystery, nothing left to be discovered, nothing for the viewer to find under the surface. The image on the bottom is a photograph; it shows you something of beauty and presents something true and pleasing to the eye.

In the same way, your stories should be photographs, not diagrams. It's easy to focus on theme because we give you a theme to write about. But don't lose the aesthetic beauty when you're slamming home a theme because the theme will lose its power.

Last year's coordinator, Crista Richey, talked about how Christian writers should instead seek to create a good story first, instead of sacrificing writing excellence on the altar of theme. She wrote:

This Christian element must be natural to the story; must arise from it, instead of being tacked on to it; must have power and substance in itself, and not rely on Scriptural quotations or witty proverbs to back it up. (After all – if your story relies upon such gimmicks, why should someone read it at all? Wouldn’t it be far better for your readers to consult the original source – the very life-giving Word of God?)

Even Jesus taught in stories, instead of simply repeating the verses of the Law that everyone-- especially the Pharisees-- had heard hundreds of times. When they asked Him, "Who is my neighbor?" Jesus didn't set out a didactic list of people that His followers were obligated to be nice to. Instead He told the story of the Good Samaritan.

So, seek to show instead of tell. See what story you can find that is true, unique, beautiful. Make it the best it can be. And when you seek to tell a true story, a story that reflects the world as it is and should be, then you will have written a uniquely Christian story.

Plotting Change

Image credit: Wikimedia Commons

Sarah Pride, the author of today's post, graduated from Patrick Henry College in 2007 with a degree in Literature and an undeclared minor in History. Her personal mission is to illuminate the world with beauty, goodness and truth, and to help build organizations that do the same. She has written a feature film screenplay and a half-dozen short films, as well as quite a few short stories, and is currently several chapters into the first book of her epic trilogy.

Creativity, so the myth goes, is a mystic force that spurts forth spontaneously. A divine spark possesses the artist and brings him outside himself to see the world with fresh eyes. Once the influence passes, it leaves the artist a forlorn and wild-eyed husk. He is more than a little insane.

This concept appeals because it means that we are not responsible when we do not produce. We were not “inspired.”

The trouble with the theory, of course, is that many authors have produced a great deal, inspired by little more than their need to survive. William Shakespeare, for example, wrote more than three dozen plays and a great deal of poetry. Charles Dickens wrote his novels in monthly installments. Just as any craftsman learns basic facility in his tools and an eye for what is good and bad in his field, so we writers can grasp principles to take control of our creative processes.

Today, I am going to write about the fundamental qualities of conflict and change, the principles that drive your plot. Basically, if nothing changes in our characters or in their environment from the start to the end of a page, we do not have a story at all. We have dead space. Conflict drives that change—either from within our characters or from their surroundings.

For example, consider the following exchange:

The queen swept down the hallway, raising her hand to stop a maid who was rushing past clutching an armful of books. “Flo, fetch me a glass of water,” she commanded. The girl bobbed a curtsey. “As you please, Your Highness!”

Dead space. But then, we alter it:

The queen swept down the hallway, brow furrowed. At last, she spotted a maid darting out of the library with an armful of books. “Ah, Flo!” she exclaimed. “The king’s fever is running high. Please fetch him another glass of water.” The girl gasped and bobbed a quick curtsey. “If you please, Your Highness – the vizier told me to bring these books to the Hall of Justice immediately.”

Suddenly, we have conflict. The vizier’s and the queen’s wills in that moment stand in opposition, and someone is going to have to change.

One way to take control of a story, then, is to plot the points of change. Consider how the main protagonist and his world will be different at the end of the story than at the beginning. Once we know our starting and ending points, we can mark out a series of necessary steps between, each sparked by a conflict inside characters, between them, or between them and their environment.

Once we get into this process, we find immediately that we have to know our characters intimately. We have to know the stimuli that will cause them, as individuals, to change in their own unique ways. What spells “love” for one real-life person can mean “hate” for another. So it must be for our characters. But that is a topic for another post.

23 days...

The countdown to the Call to Pens deadline has begun! There's only a little more than 3 weeks left until February 1, and it goes by faster than you think. Entries have begun to filter in, and I'm very excited to see what you all come up with.

Over the next few weeks you can expect several things from us:

1. More frequent guest posts on the blog. We are working with a number of excellent contributors to post on topics from story-theory to literature to how to craft a good tale.

2. More answers to your questions on the Frequently Asked Questions page. That repository is slowly growing, and if you have a question that's not on there, feel free to leave a comment or email us at shortstory@phc.edu.

3. Contest updates. After the deadline has passed, I'll be posting periodic updates on the judging process to let you know how things are going. Be on the lookout for the announcement of the winning stories in April!

Blessings,
Alicia

Announcing: A Call to Pens 2011!

{Photo Credit: sxc.hu}

Pick up your pens, grab your laptops, sharpen your number two pencils and start your coffee grinders.
I'm very excited to announce the fourth annual Patrick Henry College "A Call to Pens" short story competition!

I hope this year's themes will inspire you to strive for literary excellence. The themes are:

The First Division

Theme: An Unexpected Adventure

Age group: 12-15

Word limit: 1,500

The Second Division

Theme: Redemption

Age group: 16-18

Word limit: 2,500

Contest deadline is February 1, 2012.

For more information, contest entry rules, entry forms, etc., please visit the PHC Call to Pens page.

About the blog: Like last year, this blog will continue to be a repository of information on the Christian writer's calling, literary excellence, good books on writing, and tips from the pros (PHC professors and some of our most exceptional student writers). I hope this blog will generate some discussion as we encourage each other in our writing endeavors.

A little about me: My name is Alicia Constant. I'm a junior Classical Liberal Arts Journalism major at Patrick Henry College, and I will be coordinating the contest this year. When I served as a judge last year, I enjoyed reading your works of fiction so much that I decided to get more involved this year.
I'm a journalist at heart-- which means that I mostly deal in non-fiction these days-- but I'm also a poet, a voracious reader, a puttering librarian, and a some-time scribbler. I believe that good stories, whether fiction or non-fiction, communicate truth by challenging and delighting the soul.

I hope this blog is not only your chance to hear from me but also to learn from the colleagues and mentors that have taught me many things about the literary craft. Please leave comments with your suggestions for topics you'd like to see on the blog.

Also, you can contact me at shortstory@phc.edu with any questions about the blog or the competition.


In Christ,

Alicia Constant
2011 Call to Pens Contest Coordinator

the craft and business of writing: essential tools for writing success

The Craft and Business of Writing: Essential Tools for Writing Success, by the Editors of Writer’s Digest books

I recently discovered a real “page-turner” I couldn’t put down—and unfortunately, couldn’t afford. Happily, my school library recently acquired it, and it’s sitting beside me now, as I type this. (And no, it’s not a novel.)

If you’re interested in writing as a career, or even in just publishing a few stories every now and then, this is a book you may definitely want to check out at your library or the nearest bookstore. I haven’t read it front to back, but the portions I have perused are chock-full of sound advice and practical, “here’s how to do it and here’s how not to do it” instruction. I especially appreciate how the editors work to spark your interest through questions, suggestions, and anecdotes, in addition to both positive and negative examples of whatever topic they are addressing. Overall, it gives a good understanding of both business aspects of writing and the building blocks of writing itself.  

Here’s just a bit of what this book offers (quoted from the back):

For more than eighty years, the Writer’s Market series has provided the timeless advice and detailed instruction writers have come to depend on to achieve their goals. The Craft & Business of Writing offers the best of that instruction from award-winning writers such as M.J. Rose, Lee K. Abbott, Alyce Miller, Fred Marchant, Jennifer Cruisie, Megan McCafferty, Gary Provost, Monica Wood, and Deborah Hopkinson.

            In this book, writers, agents, and editors offer their insights into every genre and facet of the publishing industry, so whether you write fiction, nonfiction, children’s books, or poetry—or a little of everything—this essential all-in-one reference includes everything you need to start and maintain your writing career.

To hone your craft and increase your skill as a writer, you’ll find solid advice on how to:

• Craft intricate plots and nuanced characters
• Improve the pace and veracity of your dialogue
• Write in rhyme, or with appropriate meter

To successfully market yourself and sell your work, you’ll learn how to:

• Find and work with an agent
• Negotiate contracts and collaborate with editors
• Test and submit article ideas

No matter what your skill level or area of creative interest, The Craft & Business of Writing is an invaluable addition to your reference library.

Interested? Check it out on Amazon and peruse a few chapters for free!

a writer's resources - part 2

Today our guest blogger is Peter Forbes, an ’09 graduate of Patrick Henry College who is currently writing a novel based upon the movie Come What May. You can check out his blog here to read about his on-going experiences in film and novel-writing--which I would definitely recommend.   :-)

Name: Peter Forbes

Class: '09 Graduate

Hometown: Dinosaur, CO

Major/Degree: Literature

Favorite book: Hard to pick a favorite, but Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis would be worthy of this position.

What encouraged you to start writing fiction in the first place? Fiction got me out of writing "serious" stuff in school. Jot off a story for fun or sweat through an essay? It was an easy choice.

What technical books or resources (essays, articles, lectures, journals, etc.) have most enabled you to improve your writing skills?

Two excellent resources off the top of my head:

An essay called "On Three Ways of Writing for Children" from Of Other Worlds by C. S. Lewis. Lewis describes three (surprise!) kinds of children's literature. Lewis describes how a good children's story should be just as enjoyable to adults as to children. He also gives an interesting side note to the place of morals in a story, any story, and whether or not it is wise to start out with a moral in mind. Because I'm interested in writing children's fiction, this is an invaluable reference, and Lewis is a master.

The book Story Craft by John Erickson. Many homeschoolers know Erickson through his character Hank, from the Hank the Cowdog series. Erickson is also a Christian and a philosopher, and he offers some valuable advice on what an author should do for readers through fiction. Erickson is a contemporary author who writes for the general market. He has loads of insight, and this book distills much of it winsomely.

Which works of literature have most encouraged you, inspired you, and/or taught you how to write? (Please briefly describe 3-6 such books, individually, demonstrating how/why/what you learned from them and why you would recommend reading it.)

A Voyage to Arcturus by David Lindsay--

A Voyage to Arcturus by David Lindsay is a sci-fi/fantasy written in 1920, though it's really a story about a man's journey through many different philosophies. It's not a "Christian" book, but C. S. Lewis appreciated it so much that it was an influence on his own work. The main character, Maskull, must journey to find what is true. It's a bit of a dense read and must be evaluated critically, but definitely worthwhile. It showed me how to intertwine philosophy effectively into a fantasy.

Phantastes by George MacDonald--

George MacDonald's Phantastes is similar to Arcturus in many ways: it's a fantasy about a man who goes on a journey through strange lands, and C. S. Lewis cites it as a major factor in his own life (especially in his conversion to Christianity). Phantastes is filled to the brim with near dreams and images of other worlds, accompanied by themes that are universally true. George MacDonald is a prime example of an author who can take the things that seem "normal" and defamiliarize them so that they are fresh and new.

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevesky--

Fyodor Dostoevesky left a profound impression on me with his Crime and Punishment. The story is riveting, and the psychology he explores in his main character is dead-on insightful. It's a powerful work of guilt, repentance, and redemption. Perhaps what I left the novel with most is the idea of a story structure that may be capable of reflecting more truth than almost any other kind of story structure. Mankind is guilty and must repent and be forgiven to be redeemed. I think there is a huge potential for stories written in the vein of Crime and Punishment.

Earthboy Jacobus by Doug TenNapel

Graphic novels (basically big comic books) are gaining traction and readership today, and because they marry the visual, visceral element of a film with the intimacy of a book, the kind of emotional impact they can have is hard to underestimate. Doug TenNapel is one of my favorite writers/artists in the genre, and his book Earthboy Jacobus is a great example of a graphic novel. It's a fantastical story about the life of a man with mysterious powers that parallels much of the Book of Jonah. TenNapel's Christian faith is evident in much of his work, and his creativity has inspired me to write graphic novels myself.

Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis--

"All joy . . . emphasizes our pilgrim status; always reminds, beckons, awakens desire. Our best havings are wantings." - C. S. Lewis

Till We Have Faces has marks of a man who longed for heaven intensely, and through his book, readers were given a taste of that longing for themselves. If I can do to that in my own work, I'll have achieved more than I could have hoped for.

thoughts on story craft and hank the cowdog

"When I took this job as Head of Ranch Security, I knew that I was only flesh and blood, four legs, a tail, a couple of ears, a pretty nice kind of nose that the women really go for, two bushels of hair and another half-bushel of Mexican sandburs. You add that all up and you don't get Superman, just me, good old easy-going Hank who works hard, tries to do his job, and gets very little cooperation from anyone else around here." – The Original Adventures of Hank the Cowdog

“Only the Maker of galaxies would have thought to give mankind such a marvelous gift as a dog.” – John R. Erickson, Story Craft

One of the most helpful books on Christian writing I’ve ever read is Story Craft by John R. Erickson. Ever heard of the Hank the Cowdog series? Same author. Never heard of Hank? Now that’s a tragedy. You can learn more about Hank at the author’s website, and a little bit more about him right here.

The Hank books center on the adventures (or misadventures) of Hank and his buddy Drover, two dogs who live on a ranch with their (human) family and constantly get themselves into hilarious scrapes. Any one who has ever owned or loved a dog will cherish these books. They are funny, memorable, and “true to the essence of dog.” They are also very nourishing to the soul, and deeply Christian at their core – even though the salvation message is never mentioned, and Hank is certainly no preacher.

In Story Craft, Erickson describes his approach to writing, shares his thoughts on the vocation of writing (especially in relation to faith and contemporary culture), and offers practical advice to younger writers. He is very resistant toward pop culture—more specifically, toward its rejection of structure, moral order, and art as nourishment. Stories are to strengthen the soul as bread or water strengthens the body; they are not to poison the reader with despair, chaos, and emptiness. Story Craft reminds us that the best stories are ones that uphold the structure of a universe created by all-wise and all-wonderful God, a God who is the source of all that is good and pure and strong, and yes, a God who is the source of all beauty, joy and laughter. (Who else could have thought up a dog?)

As Dr. Gene Veith reminds us in the introduction to Story Craft, “The purpose of every vocation…is to love and serve our neighbors. […] A writer is supposed to love and serve his readers.” [xi] But Erickson is also resistant toward mediocre, didactic, “Christian” literature that confuses the role of storytelling with the role of preaching. Both might deal with the “structure of the universe” and ultimately point to the same conclusion, but they must travel separate routes:

But Hank never talks about Jesus, some might object, as if dogs were objects of salvation. Mr. Erickson’s vocation is not one of preaching. The Christianity in these stories is not on the surface. It is deeper down. The very structure and the craft of his storytelling: the nature, and human nature, and animal nature that he writes about; and the moral truths that even his dogs have to deal with are in accord with the reality that God created. Consequently, as he points out in this book, though his stories do not have a religious content, they have a religious effect. [xiii]

That isn’t to say that good stories can’t have religious content. But when it comes to storytelling, it is much more effective to show truth than to simply insert moral truths into the mouth of a talking head and leave it at that. A story that is “sentimental and dull, with characters who speak in soft tones and smile all the time,” is a bad story—even if it exhorts the audience “to think on the things that are true, honest, just, pure, lovely, virtuous, and worthy of praise.” [101] These things are the very “things” that make good stories so nourishing and worthwhile, and yet good storytelling requires an approach that is different from good preaching. Showing – not telling – is the key here. The Hank books set a good example:

[x] The animals, as in the time-honored fables that go back to Aesop, remind us of people, including ourselves. Hank’s constant temptation to eat the chickens illuminates our own temptations. Hank’s pride is completely counterbalanced by his shortcomings. When we laugh at Hank’s blustery ego, we are missing the point if we aren’t also laughing at ourselves…[1]

101. “Hank wants to be a good dog, but he’s involved in a constant struggle with his nature: a short attention span, food lust, and an exalted opinion of his role as Head of Ranch Security. He’s a sinner. Sometimes he rises to heroism but he doesn’t stay there long. That describes every dog I’ve known. It also has some very funny parallels with the human condition.”[2]

This is a topic we’ve touched on before, and it is important. But Story Craft covers plenty of other ground as well. If you find yourself in need of good solid advice on writing, consult Story Craft. I trust you have heard some of these rules before: Good writing is clear, not obscure; active, not passive; deals with the specific rather than the general. Moreover, good writers “learn by writing.” They revise and polish. They discipline themselves to perfect their craft. But they also have something to say, and this requires that “Before we write, we should live.”

If you want to write, you must have something to write about. And if you want to write about “life,” you must first experience it. It doesn’t do to hide in the attic, you know (my lifelong temptation) – how will you ever find material for stories? You have to go out there and get it. Keep your eyes open, wherever you are, and observe; get involved in life; interact with people; contemplate God’s creation; pursue knowledge; seek God’s face.

That ought to spark something!

Story Craft is a book I highly recommend. I have only touched on a few of its topics, but there’s much, much more that Erickson has to offer. The book is divided into three parts: 1) “One Writer’s Journey”; 2) “Faith, Culture, and the Craft of Writing”; and 3) “The Top Twenty: If I Were Teaching a Class on Writing.” Interested? Check out his website here. And if you have the time and opportunity, I’d definitely encourage you to buy or borrow a copy of Story Craft sometime. Definitely a worthwhile resource for a serious Christian writer.

---

[1] Gene Veith in the introduction to Story Craft: Reflections on Faith, Culture & Writing From the Author of Hank the Cowdog by John R. Erickson (Perryton: Maverick Books, Inc, 2009), x.

[2] Interview with John R. Erickson by Susan Olasky, World Magazine, December 2, 2006, pp. 26-7 (quoted in Story Craft).

writing as an act of worship

Well, we’ve reached the (approximate) midpoint. In a couple months the judges will have made their final decisions, and the contest will come to a close – but before that happens, I want to give you a chance to have your own questions about writing (and its connection to Christianity) answered. Are there any topics or questions you would like us to explore on this blog during the remaining half of the competition? Post them in the comment section, and we’ll be happy to explore these issues further.

So far, we’ve covered a few larger themes on this blog: writing as a vocation, dealing with writer’s block, writing Christian fiction, and so on. Today’s topic is similar. A friend and fellow PHC student, Alicia Constant, explores writing as a specifically spiritual calling. While we’ve touched on this before, Alicia draws out new facets to consider, and I definitely think you’ll enjoy them. :-)

Alicia’s article, “Writing as an Act of Worship,” is the second post in a series on her blog, A Beautiful Ordinary.

Writing as an Act of Worship

By Alicia Constant

What is writing? In its strictest sense, writing expresses meaning through symbols that represent language. Writing is communication and creation, expression of ideas in some form more permanent than the spoken word.

Good writing, on the other hand, is much more difficult to define. Critics have haggled over definitions and opinions for centuries, probably since the dawn of written language. And, aside from the mechanical quality of the writing, what about the ideas behind it? Must good writing, by necessity, reflect the good, the true, and the beautiful? Or can masterfully crafted writing that communicates the antitheses of God’s truth still be considered “good”?

Either way, the ability to create with language is a reflection of God’s image. Though He could have created the world some other way, He chose to use language: “Let there be light.” (Genesis 1:3) God reveals Himself to us through His written word, which, aside from its perfect, divinely inspired nature, is also a work of intense literary beauty. As I was reading Job 38 this morning, I was struck by the powerful imagery of the language that God uses: the waters become “hard like stone” at His command, the seas “burst out from the womb” and are clothed with clouds and darkness. In his book God at Work, Dr. Gene Edward Veith describes our creative works as “an imitation of God’s work, a participation in God’s creation and His creativity…. these are what God does, and yet God gives them as tasks to human beings.” (God at Work, p. 62)

Our attempts to wield the written word are finite, and, of course, can never measure up to His perfection. We are created beings; thus, our ability to create is limited by both our lack of knowledge and our fallen nature. He has made everything, and without Him, nothing was made (John 1). Our most original creations are dim reflections of His artistry. Nevertheless, He gave us the ability to create for a purpose.
The main point I’m trying to communicate is this: Writing is a deeply spiritual calling. It’s not something to take lightly or treat selfishly. As writers, we should use the tool of language to create something beautiful.
Ultimately, our purpose returns to glorifying and worshiping the Divine Author, Jesus Christ. None of the glory we attain from our “works of literary excellence” should belong to us. Psalm 115:1 says, “Not to us, LORD, not to us, but to Your name be the glory, because of Your love and faithfulness.” What we write as Christians ultimately reflects on Christ. Our goal should be to know Him more, and as we grow in that knowledge, to help others see Him more clearly.

How can we accomplish this goal to the best of our ability? In other words, what makes writing good? I’ll leave you with this quote from C.S. Lewis: “There is but one good; that is God. Everything else is good when it looks to Him and bad when it turns from Him.”

Questions to consider:

a. How seriously do you take your calling as a writer? If you took it more seriously, what would that change, if anything?

b. What do you believe are the qualities of good writing?

c. How can you make your writing an act of worship to God?

thoughts on "story"

Last week in her article, Dr. Libby raised a point that bears repeating. As Christian writers determined to “do all for the glory of God,” we may be tempted to “get our point across” by explicitly stating the moral of our story or by quoting a plethora of Bible verses in our story. Of course it is imperative to live uprightly and to constantly nourish one’s soul through Scripture—but a story must first of all be a story, not a thinly-disguised piece of didactic advice or moral instruction.

This doesn’t mean your stories can’t be Christian (even explicitly), or that your work cannot plumb the depths of ethics and theology in detail.[1] It does mean that this Christian element must be natural to the story; must arise from it, instead of being tacked on to it; must have power and substance in itself, and not rely on Scriptural quotations or witty proverbs to back it up.[2] (After all – if your story relies upon such gimmicks, why should someone read it at all? Wouldn’t it be far better for your readers to consult the original source – the very life-giving Word of God?)

And in all honesty, I think this is very freeing. It allows you to explore the fantastic realms of your imagination without first setting an agenda for yourself – which is one of the quickest ways to kill off the spirit of a story. Anyway, if this Christian element “bubbles out” of the story itself, as Lewis suggested, it is far more likely to plumb the depths of Christian thought than a purely didactic story. It is also more likely to have a lasting (and positive) impression or influence upon your readers.

But that’s enough of my jabber. Below are concrete examples of what I am talking about. Neither of them reference God or are explicitly didactic, but they are inherently Christian, quite relevant to our day to day thought and conduct, and deeply moving.

From The Princess and the Goblin (by George MacDonald)

Context: The two protagonists, Princess Irene and the miner boy Curdie, are attempting to escape out of the mountain where the goblins had imprisoned Curdie. Irene was able to find and rescue Curdie because she followed a magical thread which led her into the mountain and is now leading her out again.

“I told you already,” answered Irene; --“by keeping my finger upon my grandmother’s thread, as I am doing now.”

“You don’t mean you’ve got the thread there?”

“Of course I do. I have told you so ten times already. I have hardly – except when I was removing the stones – taken my finger off it. There!” she added, guiding Curdie’s hand to the thread; “you feel it yourself—don’t you?”

“I feel nothing at all,” replied Curdie.

“Then what can be the matter with your finger? I feel it perfectly. To be sure it is very thin, and in the sunlight looks just like the thread of a spider, though there are many of them twisted together to make it—but for all that I can’t think why you shouldn’t feel it as well as I do.”

Curdie was too polite to say he did not believe there was any thread there at all. […The thread leads them out of the mountain.]

“Now, Curdie!” she cried, “won’t you believe what I told you about my grandmother and her thread?”

For she had felt all the time that Curdie was not believing what she told him.

“There! – don’t you see it shining on before us?” she added.

“I don’t see anything,” persisted Curdie.

“Then you must believe without seeing,” said the princess, “for you can’t deny it has brought us out of the mountain.”

Moral: One might sum up the “moral” in a few phrases: faith is what is unseen; faith is reasonable, founded on evidence; faith increases sight and disbelief instills blindness.

From The Silver Chair (by C. S. Lewis)

Context: After entering the magical world of Narnia for the first time, Jill Pole is separated from her companion (Eustace Scrubb) and, becoming extremely thirsty, encounters an enormous lion (Aslan) beside the stream where she stops to drink. Scrubb knows Aslan, but Jill does not.

            “Are you not thirsty?” said the Lion.

            “I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill.

            “Then drink,” said the Lion.

            “May I—could I—would you mind going away while I do?” said Jill.

            The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.

            “Will you promise not to—do anything to me if I do come?” said Jill.

            “I make no promise,” said the Lion.

            Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.

            “Do you eat girls?” she said.

            “I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the Lion. It didn’t say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.

            “I daren’t come and drink,” said Jill.

            “Then you will die of thirst,” said the Lion.

            “O dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.”

            “There is no other stream,” said the Lion.

Moral: There is only one way to be saved, and that is through Christ. God is not “safe,” but we must trust Him.  

Now, which did you find more interesting: the excerpts from the novels, or my interpretations of them? Which would you rather spend time thinking about? Which would you rather “have more” of?

The excerpts, surely! That’s what I thought. :-)

---

[1] Lewis certainly did! Think of The Screwtape Letters—better yet, if you haven’t read it, pick up a copy from the library or a nearby bookshop. It will both astound you and enrich your soul.

[2] Of course, there’s an exception to everything: while your story should have its own power and “substance” instead of relying on Bible verses, it isn’t always “bad”or un-literary to quote such verses. You’ll find verses and allusions to Scripture heavily sprinkled throughout many of the best and most beautiful works of literature ever written. The catch is that you must tell your own story, and not rely upon other quotes to give it depth. Use Scripture as a supplement if you like, but tell your own story.

"writing good stories"

Hello, all. Here is Dr. Libby's article, as promised. :-) Let me know what you guys think!

Enjoy!

Writing Good Stories

By Dr. Bonnie Libby

First of all, know the fundamentals of good narrative practice.  That is, know what goes in to telling a good story, one that will capture the interest of readers with unexpected plot turns, full and interesting character development, enough vivid description to set the tone of the story and lend it a note of reality, and dialogue that fits the characters and advances both the plot and “feel” of the story.

Modern author George Saunders proposes a theory about novel writers, and I think we can apply this to writers of short stories, too.  In his introduction to the Modern Library edition of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Saunders proposes a narrative theory about Mark Twain’s novel that uses the metaphor of a PeopleMover (you know, those moving beltways at the airport that make you feel like you are walking really fast).  Saunders writes:

Imagine the novelist as a person standing at one end of a PeopleMover, with a shovel, in front of a big pile of dirt.  The Pile of dirt represents The Thing This Writer Loves to Do, and Does Naturally.  The writer started writing so that he or she could endlessly and effortlessly do this thing and nothing else—be funny, say, or verbally brilliant, or write lush nature vignettes, or detailed descriptions of the interiors of rich people’s houses—and then be declared Wonderful, and buy a nicer car.  But all writers soon find that their Dirt is not enough.  Yes, their readership stands at the far end of the PeopleMover, eagerly awaiting this Dirt, but if the writer simply dumps shovelful after shovelful of Dirt onto the PeopleMover, the PeopleMover grinds to a halt, and the readership walks away to see a movie.[1]

You can tell that Saunders is a humorist himself, and that he admires Twain’s humor (his “Dirt”) and appreciates as much of it as he can get.  However, Saunders knows that Twain’s readers need something more—they need a story, a narrative with causes and effects, events that are surprising but not random.  A good story is what moves things along and allows the writer to “shovel out” that which he most likes to write, be it humor, description, or even, as some of you may want to write, Big Important Ideas.

You may be tempted to start with a theme based on the prompts for A Call to Pens, which is all well and good, but remember to keep your story first.  Human beings like stories because that form reflects life itself, the reality in which we live.  Certainly we each experience our share of “twists and turns” for which we may not see an immediate reason, but nevertheless the human story—history—is one of causes and effects, with a beginning and an ending, both for individuals and for humanity on earth.  There is purpose in our existence, plain and simple.  Much modern literature denies this purpose, denying the causality of life, and therefore killing good narrative.  We as Christians have a chance to redeem narrative, to restore stories to their honored place as truth-bearers: “The narratives we encounter in epic poems, in plays, and in novels are anything but fanciful alternatives to real life.  The fact is that we never get away from stories.  In and out of literature, stories tell us who we are and what we might become.”[2] 

We may categorize life into abstractions like Love, Hate, War, Peace, and even Faith and Redemption, but until we relate stories that demonstrate those abstractions, that show them being lived out, we do not access the reality behind them.  The Bible itself is a narrative—a true one—that shows us God’s ways and character.  We may consider God’s patient lovingkindness, but until we read of His care for the complaining Israelites wandering forty years in the desert, we don’t understand it fully.  We may think we know about His grace, but until we read the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ excruciating death on the cross, we cannot grasp it.

These are all true stories.  What about fictional stories?  Well, they must have the same elements:

--Realistic characters with human flaws but also potential for nobility or love or kindness.  Think of stories you like and the kinds of characters they contain: Elizabeth Bennett with her good sense but her tendency to misread people, or Huckleberry Finn with his funny disdain of civilization but his well-meaning heart and growing moral consciousness. This is not to say that all characters must be human; readers love Bilbo Baggins with his initial timidity but increasing response to the call of adventure.

--A plot that moves along and involves some kind of important conflict, either interpersonal or with an external force or, most likely, within an individual.  The best stories contain more than one kind of conflict.  Think of Sydney Carton embroiled in the bloody French Revolution, but also waging a war within himself against drunken apathy but that ultimately results in sacrifice.

--Causes and effects.  The Count of Monte Cristo becomes a wealthy man not through randomness, but rather a combination of determination, hard work, and, yes, a bit of luck in happening upon the old priest in prison, but why was Edmond Dantes in prison?  Because some bad men frame him out of jealousy.  And why were they jealous?  Because Edmond has the love of a beautiful woman and a promising naval career.  You get the idea--events in the plot don’t just happen.  Authors have a world full of human actions and reactions to draw from; in real life, one person’s success very often does elicit both adulation and jealousy from others, and wicked deeds naturally cause the desire for revenge, unless something else intervenes, something like love or grace in the form of human relationships.  There is room for coincidence in a fictional narrative, just as there is in life, but most major events must be related causally.

--Story structure.  Most stories follow the usual pattern of beginning, middle, and end or, more technically, rising action, climax, and falling action.  But consider playing with the order of events using flashbacks or flashforwards.  Create suspense by jumping to another scene right when the first scene is  building up to a climax.  Tell a story within a story, where the narrator listens to another character narrate a story, then return to the “present.”  This could take up the whole story or just be an episode.  Play around with narrative point of view: tell the same episode from the perspective of two different characters, alternate narrators throughout the story . . . you get the idea!

--All the rest.  Of course, don’t forget vivid and fresh description, realistic yet interesting dialogue, scenes made memorable by facial gestures, body language, and all the other ways that humans communicate with one another.  It’s the little touches, sometimes, that make a good story great. Stories are meant to be concrete, alive with detail.  But if your plot is weak, uninteresting, or untrue, no amount of embellishment will save the story. 

And the truth we want to relate as writers is so important that working hard on the form it takes is worth all the effort.  C. S. Lewis began his immensely popular series The Chronicles of Narnia not with a moral that he worked to relate to his readers, but with a picture.  He says:

Some people seem to think that I began by asking myself how I could say something about Christianity to children; then fixed on the fairy tale as an instrument; then collected information about child-psychology and decided what age-group I’d write for; then drew up a list of basic Christian truths and hammered out ‘allegories’ to embody them.  This is all pure moonshine.  I couldn’t write in that way at all.  Everything began with images; a faun  carrying an umbrella, a queen on a sledge, a magnificent lion.  At first there wasn’t even anything Christian about them; that element pushed itself in of its own accord.  It was part of the bubbling.[3]

So take Lewis’s advice: don’t begin with a moral and try to build your story around it.  Tell a good story, and the moral will come out.  Write characters and events that interest you, that capture your imagination; chances are you will find some readers who share your preferences.  Keep that PeopleMover of plot moving along, while you merrily dish out striking images or humor or dramatic dialogue or whatever you like.  Avoid the clichés of “Christianese” by using realistic language and events.  Tell a story you would like to hear, not one that you think your audience should hear.  Pay attention to details, but remember to have fun!

---

[1] George Saunders, introduction to the Modern Library edition of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (New York: Random House, 2001), x.

[2] Susan V. Gallagher and Roger Lundin, Literature Through the Eyes of Faith (New York: HarperCollins for Christian College Coalition, 1989), 30.

[3] C.S. Lewis, “Sometimes Fairy Stories May Say Best What’s to Be Said,” in On Stories and Other Essays on Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1966, 1982), 46.

a question for you

I hope you all enjoyed Dr. Hake’s essay last week! If you didn’t get a chance to read it, I would definitely recommend looking it over. It’s tightly packed with invaluable insight you won’t want to miss, and quite readable. It might seem a bit long, but I promise you it’s worth it.

Anyway, I think it’s time for me to answer a couple of questions posted on the blog several days ago. Celerina asked:  

Can you please elaborate on the contest guidelines requiring self-editing? What sort of helps would I be allowed to receive from my parents or friends that would not violate this guideline?

It’s a somewhat tricky question, because there’s often a fine line between what is acceptable and what is not. In some circumstances you just have to use your discretion. It is fine for a friend or parent to proofread your manuscript for technical mistakes (typos, glaring inconsistencies, etc.). But the story itself has to be your own: no one can write it for you. No one else can decide your plot, invent your characters, or structure your story. Friends and parents can give minor suggestions here and there, but try to keep their advice to a minimum.

SoulsforChrist7 asked:

Miss Richey,

I wanted to ask a question about one of the hints.

“2. Edit and revise several times before you submit. Clarity of style and grammatical excellence are both a “must.””

I just don’t quite understand this. If these things are “musts” then why have many of the winning entries of past years not shown this. I just don’t understand. If you don’t really judge by this what do you judge by? Thanks so much for organizing this contest, I always enjoy it.

Lulu

Ouch. Hmm…that’s definitely worth looking into. Thank you for raising the point! To clarify, though, let me say that clarity of style and grammatical excellence are “musts” in that they are highly preferred, and they definitely do matter to the judges. However, the stories are judged for other qualities as well – originality, strength of theme, realism of presentation, and so forth. If some winning entries have not always exhibited grammatical excellence in the past, then they must have excelled over other entries significantly in some other area. However, winning entries are almost always more grammatically accurate than other entries: a few typos won’t wreck your chances, but consistent violation of the basic rules of grammar will do so.

And finally, several people have inquired whether historical fiction is an appropriate genre for this contest. This answer is: Yes. :-) You may write in any genre you choose. 

And now, I have a question for you. Consider the following quote:

"Poorly written novels - no matter how pious and edifying the behavior of the characters - are not good in themselves and therefore not really edifying." - Flannery O'Connor, Mystery and Manners

Do you agree? Disagree? Can you think of any specific books that might fall under O’Connor’s condemnation here? (I can.) We’ll touch on this next week, but in the meantime, what do you guys think?

why study literature?

Welcome to December! I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving. :-)

Today’s essay was kindly contributed by Dr. Steve Hake, a Professor of Literature here at Patrick Henry College. The topic is “Why Study Literature?” Now as creative writers, you might think the answer obvious. Literature is fun. It allows us to express ourselves. It permits us to share what we think, feel, and believe, with other people. Not only that, but it allows us to understand – not only with the mind, but also with the heart – what other people think, feel, and believe. Dr. Hake not only deals with these topics (and others) but also connects them to the Christian faith on a profound level. I have found this essay very helpful as a reader of fiction, but also as a creator of literature; it has clarified and profoundly enriched my own understanding of my vocation as a Christian writer, and I think you will find it intriguing for the same reason.

Here are a few highlights from the text that should pique your interest:

1)      Literature interprets life. “It doesn't simply reflect life—it focuses it.  It's a mirror, but a special kind of mirror.  It's a mirror in which we can see ourselves even more clearly, more vividly than in an ordinary mirror.”

2)      Literature asks and attempts to answer the big questions: A) Where have we come from? B) Where are we going? C) What is the meaning of our existence?

3)      Literature can cause us to “awake.” “It can help us to really listen and hear, smell, taste and touch…It can teach us to savor our experience, to take in, reflect on and appreciate the beauty around us.”

4)      Literature “can deepen our thinking by helping us to become not only more aware of our own values and worldview, but also those of others throughout the world and throughout history…We can explore…the implications of various values and worldviews…Literature gives us truth digested.”

5)      Literature is instructive, but it is also fun and delightful.

6)      Christianity is a profoundly literary religion, and Christians should be more interested in literature than anyone else.

Enjoy!

Why Study Literature?

Steve R. Hake, Ph.D.   Professor of English Literature, Patrick Henry College

            When there are so many things to study today, why study literature?

            Traditionally, at least two answers have been given to this question. 

            One is that literature is fun.  It's delightful.  One of the basic pur­poses of literature has always been to entertain, and anything that is genuinely entertaining has value.  The other answer is that literature teaches us many things.  It not only delights, it instructs.  Those two answers are as old, or older than the Roman poet Horace.  Let us first look more closely at the second of these two answers and see what literature teaches us.

What is literature?

            Let us begin by asking the question, "What is literature?"  First of all, what is literature all about?  What is its subject?  Its subject is nothing less than human life, human experience.  Every poem, play or story deals with some aspect of human life and experience.  It has some­times been said that literature is like a mirror that reflects life for us.  What, by contrast, is the subject of linguistics?   Language.  In linguistics, we look at language itself, but in literature, we use lang­uage to look at life.   Literature, as one of the humanities, thus parts company with the sciences.  The sciences, like linguistics, all specialize (and analyze), looking only at one aspect of reality, whereas the humanities generalize (and synthesize), looking at the whole of life. 

            How then, does literature deal with life?  Does it deal with life in a concrete or an abstract way?  In a concrete way. We can say that literature presents human experience; it doesn't discuss it.  It shows; it doesn't tell.  It appeals to our senses and to our feelings as well as to our minds.  It enables us to see, hear and feel characters in ac­tion.  In a sense, it recreates experience.  Philosophy also takes human life or experience as its subject, but it deals with life in a theoretical rather than a concrete way.  To cite just one example, a philosopher might write a book explaining to us the defects of the philosophy called  “utilitarianism"; but Charles Dickens, as a writer, wrote a novel, Hard Times, in which he exposed concretely, through a story, the problems with utilitarianism.  He enables us, in this way, not only to understand the problems with our minds, but also to see and hear them with our senses and feel them with our hearts as well. 

            We have said that literature reflects life.  How then is a novel about a twenty-four hour period (such as James Joyce's Ulysses) different from a book that merely records everything that happened in twenty four hours?  Or how is a movie different from someone with a movie camera who simply walks around at random for two or three hours and shoots whatever he sees?  Don't both "reflect" life?  But literature doesn't simply record life—it interprets it.  It doesn't simply reflect life—it focuses it.  It's a mirror, but a special kind of mirror.  It's a mirror in which we can see ourselves even more clearly, more vividly than in an ordinary mirror.  Through a process sometimes called "artistic selection” the writer or poet or movie maker simplifies experience, yet at the same time he clarifies and deepens it.  He selects that which is most important, most basic.  In other words, he tries to make sense out of life.  He reflects on the meaning of life.  So there is implicit in every poem or play or story a "worldview," a set of values.  Literature (as well as philosophy) asks and answers the "big questions":  1) Where have we come from?  2) Where are we going?  3) What is the meaning of our existence?  Literature not only asks these questions in a searching and eloquent way, but also provides us with a wide variety of possible answers. 

            How then does literature differ from history?  The controlling purpose of history is to record or reconstruct human life.  The controlling pur­pose of literature is to simplify, clarify, deepen and focus, e.g. to interpret human life.  So Byron in Don Juan speaks of past heroes who "shone not on the poet's page, and so have been forgotten."  Poetry makes the deeds of past heroes more clear and vivid and so more memorable.  It has been said that journalism (history) tells you what happened yesterday, whereas literature tells you what always happens, e. g. what is most characteristic of human nature in its deepest reaches.  We might summarize this part of our discussion with the following table: 

	Universal	Particular
Abstract	Philosophy	Social Sciences? Physical Sciences!
Concrete	Literature	History

Note also the relationship of the three basic “sisters” of the humanities to the trivium.  History corresponds most closely to “grammar” insofar as it is primarily concerned with the basic facts of a circumstance.  Philosophy corresponds most closely to “logic” insofar as it is primarily concerned with connections and meaning within and between circumstances.  Literature most closely resembles “rhetoric” insofar as it is primarily concerned with the powerful communication of the meaning of a circumstance. 

            So what is literature?  So far we have said that literature is an interpretive presentation of human experience.  But our definition is not quite complete. 

            How is literature related to art, to beauty?  Let us first ask the question, "What is a work of art?"  If I took a famous novel and tore out a few pages at random, are those few torn pages a work of art?  If I took a canvas, blindfolded myself and threw paint at it, would the resulting "painting” be a work of art?  If not, why not?  The essence of all art and beauty is form or order.  Art, by definition, is not the product of chance, but of intelligent creativity.[1]  In a painting art takes a visual form.  In a poem, story or play art takes a verbal form.  Any work of art contains the following aspects of artistic form (among others):  pattern or design, unity, theme or centrality, balance, contrast, recurrence, variation, intricacy or complexity, and progression.  So the writer or poet as an artist asks himself not only what he wants to say, but also how he wants to say it.  Beauty of form is just as important in literature as truth of content.   Artistic form is the powder that drives the bullet of content or truth into our hearts where it can explode with great force.  So then, we can define literature as an interpretive presentation of human experience in an artistic form (Ryken 13-14).[2] 

What, then, can we learn from literature?

        Let us now go back to the question we asked earlier (What can we learn from literature?) and attempt an answer based on our definition.  First of all, because literature is concrete and appeals to our senses, literature can help wake up our senses.  It can help us to really look at and see the things around us.  It can help us to really listen and hear, smell, taste and touch.  In Robert Frost’s, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," the poet takes a few moments to appreciate the quiet beauty of a wooded field slowly filling with snow.  My wife once mentioned to a friend as they sat outdoors that the clouds were particularly beautiful that day.  Her friend looked up and said, "Just clouds"--her senses were sleeping.  My wife's family, as she grew up, would often take a few minutes during a rainstorm to simply sit and listen to the sound of the falling rain.  Literature can encourage us in the midst of our frantic twentieth century lives to slow down.  It can teach us to savor our experience, to take in, reflect on and appreciate the beauty around us.  God has given us both our senses and a beautiful world full of  “all things richly to enjoy.”  Christ said He came that we might have life, and have it to the full. 

            Has literature woken up your senses?  Surely this honors God and has great value! 

            Since literature appeals to our feelings as well as our senses, it can enrich our emotional life.  Lyric poetry in particular celebrates such great lyric subjects as love and friendship.  The emotional high points in our lives are thus captured and explored.  But also our feelings at low points such as separation and death can find relief through expres­sion in literature.  The Psalms, the Song of Solomon, Lamentations and the book of Job are all excellent examples of this.  My former classmate and long-time professor of Old Testament, Tremper Longman, has co-authored a book with Dan Allender, The Cry of the Soul, exploring the emotional depth and honesty of Biblical poetry (Navpress).  Literature can make our senses more alert, our feelings more sensitive.

Building Blocks

            Literature can deepen our thoughts as well.  Because literature interprets, simplifies and focuses our experience it helps us realize what is most important, most basic, in that experience. These most basic aspects of our experience are called literary archetypes.  These archetypes might be thought of as the basic building blocks of all meaningful human experience.  Our experience can be broken down into a wide variety of different aspects, such as the supernatural, human charac­ters, human relationships, clothing, the human body, food, etc.  In all these different aspects there is both an ideal and an un-ideal dimension.  There are archetypes in each of these different areas.  Some examples might include archetypes of an ideal landscape like a garden, grove or park or an ideal building such as a rustic cottage with a bright hearth, as well as archetypes of an un-ideal landscape such as a sinister or dark forest or an un-ideal building such as a prison or dungeon.  The Bible, it should not surprise us, is widely recognized as the great treasure-trove of literary archetypes.  God Himself focuses life for us most clearly in His Word.   Literature can thus deepen and make more vivid our experience by sensitizing us to what is most important and precious in it (Ryken 85-89). 

Ultimate Context

            In addition to alerting us to the basic building blocks of human experience, literature also shows us the ultimate context of our experience.  It does this by concretely embodying a worldview or set of values.   We have said that literature asks and answers the big questions.   These might also be called the worldview questions:  What is prime reality--the really real?  Who is man?  What happens to man at death?  What is the basis of morality?  What is the meaning of human history? (Sire 18)  Each one of us as a human being has a set of values on which we base all our decisions.  In Taiwan, people would often knock on my door in the evening and ask if I could teach them English.  I would tell them that I worked in the day and so liked to spend my evenings with my family.  They would say, "But you're not doing anything and could earn more money!"  I would say, "I'm sorry, but spending time with my family is even more important to me than making extra money."  The person would often walk away shaking his head thinking, "What a strange fellow!"  But my response was based on my values, and this is true of all of us.  The person asking me the question divided human activity into watching television and making money.  Since I was not watching television, I must be available to make money.  Each one of us has a worldview.  We may never have thought too much about it, but still we have one.  We have all assumed certain answers to the worldview ques­tions above and these assumptions control the way we look at life and our experience.  They form what we could call the ultimate context of our experience, the parameters or outside edges of it.  Literature can deepen our thinking by helping us to become not only more aware of our own values and worldview, but also those of others throughout the world and throughout history. Because literature embodies these things in a concrete and vivid way, we can see values and worldviews in action.  We can see what happens when we adopt a certain set of values or look at life in a certain way.  We can explore, almost experimentally, the implications of various values and worldviews.  Literature can thus be thought of as a laboratory in which you can put human experience in a test tube and examine it from different angles.  Literature gives us truth digested.  This is exceedingly valuable.  Literature gives us an excellent opportunity to examine our own ultimate assumptions about life and to compare them with those of others.

A Brief Worldview History

            Historically in the West the earliest major worldview was that of the Greeks and Romans in which a host of personal yet finite gods were dominated by an impersonal, infinite Fate.  This was a man­-centered worldview in which man was "the measure of all things."  This was completely superseded by Christian theism in which an infinite-personal God created us and all things.  This worldview is of course definitely God-centered and remained the dominant view for many centuries.  In the l700's it was gradually replaced by a worldview called Deism in which God could be said to be shrinking and becoming more remote.  This in turn gave way to what is still the dominant worldview in the West (and indeed in much of the rest of the modern world):  naturalism.  In this worldview, God has completely dis­appeared ("died" as Nietzsche said) and we are left with only finite-personal man in an impersonal, material universe.  This worldview is of course definitely man-centered.  This in turn led in the minds of many thoughtful people to despair and the negation of all worldviews:  nihilism.   As Dostoevsky said, "If God is dead, everything is per­mitted." 

            Much of the twentieth century can be thought of as a (vain) attempt to transcend, in a variety of ways, the despair of nihilistic naturalism. One of the major efforts in this direction has been existentialism as represented by such writers as Sartre and Camus.  The heart of existentialism is an attempt to create values out of nothing, as it were, in an absurd universe.  Many in the West have also turned to the East for answers and adopted eastern pantheistic monism as their worldview.  In this worldview (lying behind Hinduism and Buddhism) ultimate reality is seen as an infinite-impersonal God (the Cosmos) into which we are absorbed like a drop of water into a river.  The biggest stumbling block for many in the West, though, that prevents them from adopting this worldview whole-heartedly is that it says that neither personality nor individuality are ultimate in the universe. 

            Finally, there are many in the West today who are turning to a relatively new worldview.  This has been called the new consciousness­, or new age, but is actually very similar to ancient animism, a belief in the existence of many powerful spiritual forces in the world.  All of these worldviews are variations on the basic non-Christian worldview in which man is at the center and thinks he does not need God.  Another way to view this is through the seven eras of literary history.  In Western Lit I we cover the first three:  Classical (classical worldview), Medieval and Renaissance (Christian theism).  These three eras can also be thought of as “pre-modern” as they all assume the reality of a supernatural world.  In Western Lit II we cover the last four:  Neo-classical (Deism), Romantic (moving towards Naturalism), Nineteenth Century Realism and Naturalism (Naturalism and Nihilism) and The Twentieth Century (Nihilism, Existentialism, Eastern Pantheistic Monism, New Age).  The first three of these correspond roughly with what we call “Modernism” (no longer believe in God or the supernatural, but still believe in truth, reason, and man’s ability to save himself—the Enlightenment mentality).  The last ushers in the full-blown postmodernism that is so much with us today (an irrational, usually despairing but sometimes “playful” relativism in which we construct our own realities). 

            So literature, then, vividly embodies and portrays these various worldviews.  It enables us to see and feel them and to under­stand their implications.  We can feel the despair of the nihilist in reading Kafka.  We can see life with God at the center in Gerard Manley Hopkins.  We can become more aware of our own values and worldview and compare them with other major alternatives.  We can also very clearly see how true is the Biblical claim that only God’s way leads to life while all other ways lead to death.[3] 

Shape Over Time

But literature does more than show us the basic building blocks and the ultimate context of human experience.  It also shows us what we could call the shape of experience over time.  This has been called the monomyth or "one story" of all literature (Ryken 77-81).  It seems very simple; yet dwelling on its implications both for life and for literature is very fruitful:  

Romance

(The story of summer)

Tragedy                                                  Comedy

                                  (The story of fall)                                (The story of spring)                                                                    (The story of spring

Anti-Romance

(The story of winter)

    

     This basic pattern, from the ideal to the un-ideal and then back to the ideal, is repeated each day (dawn, noon, evening, night), each year and in ever bigger ways in our lives (birth, maturity, old age, death) and in history (creation, fall, redemption).  This is also the most basic pattern in lit­erature.  This is the shape that the human imagination gives to experience over time.  It also alerts us to what has been called the deepest theme in all literature, the "paradise lost" theme.  There seems to be a very deep conviction buried in each human breast that we have lost something very precious and there is a correspondingly great desire to somehow regain it.  This we see again and again in literature as it answers to something very deep in our own experience.  This is a remarkable example of how a deep study of literature, as of philosophy and all the humanities, points us toward God and the Bible as meeting our greatest needs.  Truly God has not left himself without a witness![4] 

Christians Should Be More Interested in Literature Than Anyone Else

            As Christians we should have a special interest in literature. 

            Christianity is a profoundly literary religion.  We might not realize this, being in the middle of it, but consider the following:

            The greatest of all literary classics are found in the Bible.  This is widely recognized by prominent literary critics even if they are not Christians themselves.  This makes sense.  God is the great Artist and has revealed His truth in a variety of beautiful literary forms.  Christianity has also inspired a rich abundance of literary and artistic effort, from Dante’s Divine Comedy to Milton’s Paradise Lost, from Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel to Handel’s Messiah. 

            We usually think of Christ as a great Teacher, the Great Physician, but seldom as a great Poet, yet he was the greatest of all poets.   His teaching effectively used a profusion of figures of speech and literary devices.  The essence of the poet’s gift is his ability to make connections between the natural world and the spiritual world, or the outer world and the inner.  Christ did this constantly, in describing His followers as salt and light, for example.  This is at least one reason why the common people heard Him gladly.  His teaching had the qualities of great literature, it was vivid, clear, interesting and memorable. 

            Christ’s use of parables alone is enough to convince us as Christians of the power of literature to teach.  Jesus clearly believed this and demonstrated it throughout His public ministry. 

            Finally, insofar as many parts of the Bible are specifically literary in nature, a literary approach to them is both valid and very helpful.  Approaching the psalms as poetry, for example,  aids both in understanding and appreciating them. 

Literature Invites us to Look at Life

            So literature can help us live thoughtfully, deliberately.  It can help us examine our lives.  What is the alternative?  To live mindlessly as so many do today!  It is to live like a vegetable or a stick or a stone.  Is the study of literature useful?  Yes!  All the outward "busy­ness" of our daily lives loses meaning if we never look at the foundation under all that busyness.   Literature helps us do this.  We can learn how to make money in a business course.  We can learn of the wonders of the human body in a biology course.  All of these are valu­able studies.  But only literature gives us a concrete and vivid look at our lives themselves and what is most basic and ultimate in them.  Are you interested in literature?  I hope at least you are interested in life!  I hope you haven't already given up all hope and settled for a mindless life:  a life in which your senses, feelings and thoughts are all deadened or dying, and you are simply caught up in a whirl of meaningless activity.  If you haven't, literature has a lot to offer you.

The Best Literature Should Be Most Exciting to Read

Let us, finally, go all the way back to the beginning.  We have spent a long time looking at what literature can teach us.   It can wake up our senses, enrich our feelings, and deepen our thoughts by showing us the basic building blocks, ultimate context and shape in time of human experience.  But that was just one reason to study it.  The other was that it's fun.  It's delightful.   Is it?  Television, movies, videos, comic books and pop music are all very closely related to litera­ture and are all very popular.  But what about "great" literature, the "classics"?  I hope that in studying them you can experience even greater delight, have even more fun and find them actually even much more exciting.  Studying literature is like going on a journey, an adventure.  You can find both exquisite beauty and profound truth.   Literature can change your life.  Look beneath the rush and many pressures of your everyday life at its foundations. 

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[1] Of course many nihilistic artists today deny this, yet in their very act of denial they contradict themselves.  Art can never really be nihilistic.  It depends for its very life on both meaning and form. 

[2]  A friend of mine observed parallels between this definition and John 1, in which Christ as the Word reveals the Father.  I don’t want to push this, but I mention it for you to think about. 

[3]  This entire discussion of worldviews is heavily indebted to James Sire. 

[4]  Triumphs of the Imagination  (Leland Ryken) and The Universe Next Door (James Sire) have together aided me greatly in finding my bearings as a Christian in the world of the literary imagination.