Thursday, July 2, 2009

So what is J. S. Bach writing these days?


I have long lamented the lack of time for all the things I would like to do. I once took Betty Edward's Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain onto the hills of Mpumulunga and spent enough time to know that I didn't have the patience. But photography! If I had another lifetime... If I could take pictures like the ones in National Geographic...

I was somewhat disappointed when our daughter did not go into architectural conservation and restoration since it is a field that has long fascinated me. I will be refinishing an antique dresser in the next couple weeks (if it ever stops raining), and a friend has assured me that reupholstering is "easy." There are quilts and calligraphy, wood carving and cabinetry, all skills I would love to pursue, not to mention all the books I haven't read and story ideas I would like to develop. Don't get me started on what I would do on the ice if I had the time and money to skate every day and take multiple lessons per week. If only reincarnation were true, I might have the time to develop a different skill in each lifetime.

A couple years ago it hit me like a speeding semi that God is Creator. Duh. What I mean is that it is part of his basic character. He created me in his image. Why do I assume that all that will end in eternity? God can't change who he is. Surely creativity will go on.

Last night I finished reading Andy Crouch's Culture Making: Recovering our Creative Calling. This evening I plan to start again at the beginning. There is too much meat for one reading. This book belongs on my shelf next to the writing books and Madeleine L'Engle's Walking on Water. It is about culture defining the limits of what is, and is not, possible, and about changing culture through circles of influence that start as small as two or three creative people thinking and acting together. Even the founders of MySpace couldn't guarantee the impact it would have on society. But as they created and their friends caught their enthusiasm and told their friends, the world has changed. As Christians, we want to change the world, but changes always start small with people in community thinking beyond their horizons of possibility. Culture Making maintains that creativity is a ministry as divine as preaching. Crouch tells us to examine whatever we are doing and ask, is this good enough for the New Jerusalem?

Long ago I asked the Lord to make my room in heaven a two-story paneled library with a fireplace, a teapot, and French windows opening onto a garden terrace. One of these days in eternity, I'm going to ask him to freeze over that Crystal Sea in front of his throne and let us do an ice show for his glory to the live music of Michael W. Smith and the heavenly choirs. Maybe my resurrected body will even be able to do a triple Axel. Who needs reincarnation when you have all of eternity to plumb the depths of his gift of creativity?

Friday, June 19, 2009

Handling Feedback--Try It; You'll Like It

The hardest suggestions to take on my writing are the ones that call for major rewrites. Often they mean abandoning favorite passages or whole themes. They take lots of time and may reshape the story in ways I'm not sure I want to go. My first reaction may well be "No way, Jose." Those are the times when I put the manuscript in the proverbial drawer (these days that's a computer file) and sit on it. I come back to it when my emotions are not so raw.

Years ago there was an Alka-seltzer commercial that started out with someone being encouraged to try some new food. "Try it; you'll like it!" Of course, the result was a need for Alka-seltzer. But that isn't always the case. When I first began showing The Wooden Ox to readers, one woman suggested I start on page 9. I had already cut two chapters of "essential" background information about the war, and I was sure I needed all that was left. I tried a rewrite starting on page 7, but the woman was right. When I started on page 9, it wasn't hard to work in the little from the earlier pages that was really essential to the story.

This is when I love the computer most. I don't have to abandon my original material. If the change affects the whole manuscript, I save the draft and make changes in a new one. If it only affects one scene, I take out the scene and save it as "unused [keyword]." Then it is always there to come back to. Starting a new draft on the computer gives me the freedom to experiment, knowing the original is still there if I decide I really do like it better. Most often, I don't. As in starting on page 9, the change really does make a better story.

More often than I like to think, I write excitedly but then stop believing in the story. Readers know it isn't working. I know it isn't working. It sits in my computer file as it sits in the back of my mind. One day I may pull it out and rework it. Or it may just be a bad idea, not strong enough to sustain interest.

So Kersten, this is how I handle my struggles with feedback. I sit on them for a while. Then I save my original and try the changes, taking into account how much the source knows about the industry. The stories we believe in are worth making better. May you grow in your writing and keep faith in your story.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Handling Feedback--Note the Source

"What do you do when you start struggling with feedback you've received?" my friend asked. If I believe in my story, I will use suggestions to make it better.

There are some reader suggestions that I reject outright. I am good at grammar, thanks to my eighth-grade English teacher. When a reader puts in commas that don't need to be there or changes all the condition-contrary-to-fact subjunctives to indicatives, I ignore it. (Although sometimes I am driven to my Writer's Digest Grammar Desk Reference to be sure.)

When it comes to suggestions of word choice or sentence structure that I'm not sure I like, I usually make the changes. I figure I am going to be back over this manuscript so many times that if the suggestion doesn't feel natural to me, I can always change it later to something that does, but I'll give it a try.

Then there are what my husband would call No-way,-Jose! suggestions--the ones that make your eyes pop and leave you speechless. You can't react if you ever want honest feedback in the future. I make a mental note even if I don't actually write the change into the manuscript. If another reader comments on that same passage, obviously something has to be done even if not exactly what the reader suggested.

The comments of an editor of the publishing house that has given me a contract on the book carry more weight than those of my neighbor. But even the neighbor's feedback matters because he represents readers. If one reader says the manuscript got slow around chapter 5, others might put the book down at that point and never come back to it (and never tell their friends what a good book it is, never give it as a gift, and never recommend that anyone buy it....) And just because the editor makes a suggestion doesn't mean you are stuck with it. Someone at the publishing house wanted to begin So That's What God is Like with "Once there was a little boy named Temba who lived in South Africa." I called them up and said, "NO WAY, JOSE!" (politely, of course.)

Feedback from a prospective publisher is especially valuable. First, it is seldom given since they are so busy. Second, following their suggestions may make a difference in the response of the next publisher you approach--or even gain you a second look with the first.

Next week we'll look at the major changes I DON'T want to make.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Handling Feedback--Believe in Your Story

A friend taking a writing class recently asked, "What do you do when you start struggling with feedback you've received?" As I get used to a new critique group--people I'm just getting to know, whose writing I am not yet familiar with--it is a question I am looking at as well.

A writer has to balance two concepts: the need to believe in herself and her story, and the fact that if she doesn’t listen, she won’t grow as a writer.

I do my best writing when I feel passionate about something—like the novel my agent is currently trying to place about an African figure skater whose parents have HIV/AIDS. It’s a good book. HIV doesn’t happen in isolation. It interrupts lives with dreams and goals that have nothing to do with this insipid disease. It drags down those who aren’t even infected, and sometimes infects them too. And it can happen to anyone.

“American’s won’t buy a sad book about a girl in Africa,” says one publisher.

“It’s a hopeful book!” I say in return. “It’s really happening. Americans need to know before it is too late.”

The publisher worries that he won’t sell enough books to cover the cost of production, but I believe in my story so I don’t give up. I have never been one to look at current trends and come up with a gimmick that will sell. My agent and I try another publisher. At the same time, I ask myself, “What can I do to make the book so good, they CAN’T say no?”

It is a good book, but I know it could be better. That’s why I ask readers to give me feedback. “I loved it! I think it’s so wonderful you're doing this!” may be encouraging, but it’s not helpful. “It gets kind of slow about chapter 5. I didn’t understand what you meant in this paragraph. What if you made one of the skating coaches American?” Those comments may be less encouraging, but they are more useful.

It’s easy to handle feedback when my response is, “Oh, yeah! Why didn’t I think of that?” It’s a bit harder when I like what I wrote and I don’t want to change it. But then if I refuse to change, why did I show it to the reader in the first place? Was I just hoping for positive strokes--someone to praise my writing and make me feel good about a book the publishers aren’t jumping to invest in? If I believe in myself and my story, I want to make it as good as it can be.

Next week we'll look at the specific ways this writer handles suggestions.

Friday, May 29, 2009

More than Christian Bobbsey Twins

Sometime in the mid 1990s when I attended one of my first writers' conferences, the speaker in the children's track made a statement something like, "Christian children's books are now every bit as well-written as those found in the secular market."

My mouth fell open, and I had to bite my tongue not to ask, "What books are you reading, lady?"

To be fair, modern books for children in the Christian market are better written than the expanded evangelistic tracts that passed for fiction in my childhood. And the series books that filled the children's shelves of Christian bookstores in the 1990s probably were as well written as their secular counterparts. But Nancy Drew and the Bobbsey Twins aren't exactly the highest standards of literature.

In 1999 the Christy Award was set up to honor the best in Christian fiction in a variety of categories. In 2007 the first award for a young adult novel was given to Cathy Gohlke for William Henry is a Fine Name (Moody).

Christian literature for children and young adults has indeed come a long way. This year's Christy finalists include I Have Seen Him in the Watchfires (Moody), Gohlke's sequel to William Henry; The Fruit of My Lipstick (Faithwords) by Shelly Adina; and On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness (Waterbrook) by Andrew Petersen. The Newberry Award given by the American Library Association has been criticized for honoring only one type of book--introspective coming-of-age stories. These titles show that the Christy is at least looking at a broad range of styles.

I Have Seen Him in the Watchfires
, like William Henry is a Fine Name, is a "Newberry-type" book. Set during the American Civil War, it paints a powerful picture of tattered relationships and the painful results of hard choices. It is beautifully written with memorable characters and a plot that keeps you turning the pages to the tragic end. Robert is older now and must take his faith beyond salvation to full surrender. This traditional religious metaphor is given new power in the context of the devastation of war.

In contrast, Gillian Chang, protagonist of The Fruit of My Lipstick, is a brainy, twenty-first century student in a posh San Francisco boarding school. Strong voice is one of the first things a mainstream acquisitions editor looks for, and Gillian's voice bubbles over with enthusiasm and modern idioms. Her problems are typical teenage insecurities and the desire for a boyfriend. Readers will soon recognize, even though Gillian does not, that the boy in question is a jerk. Issues of emotional abuse are illustrated, but not explored in the depth expected in a secular novel. The tone stays light and centered on the mystery of who is selling exam answers carried by instant messaging between buyers and seller.


On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness
represents the fantasy genre of YA fiction made so popular by Harry Potter. Andrew Petersen, a gifted singer and song writer, has an incredible imagination. His place names, personal names and invented creatures are creative and highly amusing. He has a good story to tell in which all is not as it seems, but the telling feels disjointed to me. He jumps from one point-of-view character to another. (Some of them are adults, which is strongly discouraged in mainstream writing for children.) The tension of one event is allowed to drop instead of building on it with inevitable results. I am a great lover of fantasy, but in my opinion this talented writer needs to spend more time polishing his craft.

None of these books will be short-listed for the most prestigious secular awards, but they are all miles ahead of the Christian Bobbsey Twins that have dominated Christian juvenile publishing for so many years. We need to request them in our public libraries, get them for our church libraries, and buy them for our grandchildren--anything to convince Christian booksellers and publishers that the market can sustain more than a safe read without explicit sex and crude language.

Watchfires has been classed by some libraries as adult fiction, no doubt because it includes rape and incest, although not graphically described or inappropriate to showing the real horrors of one person being treated as the property of another. The book will be enjoyed as much by adults as by young people. It would unquestionably be my choice for the Christy Award. But the question is, would it be the choice of teens? After all, they are the ones we want to impact with our writing.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

The Value of Children’s Literature for Twenty-first Century Africa


[Someone recently asked me for a copy of this article, originally published in Today in Africa magazine, February 2005. I thought others might be interested in the motivation behind my work reading with African children.]

“A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. ” Jesus used stories to make his point--The Good Samaritan, the Lost Sheep, The Prodigal Son. The story of the Good Samaritan takes six verses in Luke chapter ten. Six verses. And yet you can never look at strangers in quite the same way as you did before you heard it. Story has power.

Think of the role of traditional story telling in African culture. Stories are the way we pass on our values, our thinking about relationships and what is important in life, what kind of behavior is, or is not, acceptable. But story telling is declining in modern Africa. What will we give our children in its place? Television? Will we let their values be formed by MTV, cartoons and American shows with ‘attitude’? Providing our children with good books gives them an opportunity to see that the world has more to offer that the consumer goods and self-serving behaviors they see on the screen.

African children need stories about children like them—children who live in the townships, children going to school with a mixture of culture groups, children caught between the traditional world of their grandparents and modern urban Africa. A story about an adopted Canadian child will show a North American setting, and the value of being chosen and loved may well be missed by an African AIDS orphan in an adopted home.

Not all books for African children should be problem stories about the loss of dignity under apartheid or families torn apart by HIV disease. African children need stories that reflect the joy of the created world around them or that help them to laugh at life and the silly things people do.

Stories ask “what if.” They allow a child to get inside someone else’s skin. What if I lived in Soweto and my best friend had HIV disease? What if I lived in KwaZuluNatal and couldn’t go to school because I didn’t have a uniform? What if I lived in Zimbabwe and my family had a chance to own a piece of land? Or what if I lived in Zimbabwe and my family was being kicked off the land where we had lived for generations?

Story lets us see the world as other people see it. The point-of-view of a white child whose family farm is being broken up for settlement is completely different from the point-of-view of a black child whose family is getting their own land for the first time. What if these two children knew each other? What if they became friends and each had to deal with the pain and joys of the other’s life? That would make a good story.

Stories allow the child to ask ‘what if I did something I have been told not to do?’ In a story, a child can consider the consequences of stealing, of disrespecting elders, of putting his own desires ahead of God’s law. The story characters are stand-ins for the child himself, making bad decisions, taking risks, failing and growing. The reader learns through the story character’s mistakes without engaging in risky behavior himself. But be warned: Agenda driven stories with built-in moral lessons don’t ring true. Children see right through them as adult lies designed to manipulate them. The most effective stories wrestle seriously with questions and allow the child to discover truth rather than have the right answer handed to him.

Even when a story is made up—fiction—it can be true in other ways. My own novel, The Wooden Ox, is a made-up story about a family kidnapped by rebels during the Mozambican civil war of the 1980s. But everything in it happened to someone during those years, and the principle that God can be trusted even when you are tempted to doubt is true in the real world. Reading such stories aloud and talking about them as a group is a way of discussing issues without accusing anyone and making them feel defensive.

Not all books are fiction. There are stories of the lives of great men and women; there are stories of how the nations came to be; there are stories of how things work, both in nature and mechanics. These are called non-fiction. A lover of books is a lover of learning. The earlier we expose children to good books, the greater will be their love of learning. Laurence Darmani, author of four volumes of Stories from Africa, points out that children become readers when they see that the important adults in their lives, whether parents or others, value reading.

The development of African children’s literature has practical values. African children are growing up in a modern world where those who can’t read will be left behind. Reading is a skill that takes practice. The more you read, the more comfortable reading becomes and the better able you are to take on advanced study and jobs that require facility with written words and instructions. More interesting books that children want to read can result in better reading skills and greater success in confronting the challenges of the twenty-first century.

Democracy depends on informed citizens who can read the newspapers comfortably, getting multiple sides to issues and forming opinions about events that are happening outside their local community. Reading habits are formed in childhood. A strong literature for children will help to shape a strong democracy.

Good readers learn to use language effectively. Words communicate ideas that are much bigger than the letters on a page. The Nelson Mandelas and Martin Luther King, Juniors of the next generation--those who know how to make us see possibilities with the words they choose--will impact the way others think and feel, and change our world.

Books don’t require batteries or expensive equipment. Once children acquire the basic skills of reading, they don’t need the presence of a teacher for learning to go on. Books can bring learning to the most remote location.

Public libraries are a good way of sharing limited resources. Reading rooms can be effective if lending books is not practical in the local culture. The first children’s reading room in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, had 40,000 uses it’s first year.

Why spend our limited resources on books for children? Childhood is the time when character and habits are formed. Now is the time to create readers who will be life-long learners. The stories that are planted in their minds in the early years will shape the way they think of themselves and their world for a lifetime. They will bare fruit in time to come. “Train a child in the way he should go,” King Solomon said, “and when he is old he will not turn from it. ” When we invest in good books for children, we invest in the future of our communities.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Gaining Perspective

My husband had his gall bladder removed this week. He spent an evening in emergency a couple weeks ago in Madison, Wisconsin, halfway between home and board meetings in Chicago. Gall bladder symptoms look a lot like heart attack and within two minutes of walking into a local clinic they had him in an ambulance, dissolving nitroglycerin under his tongue.

He had had a similar attack the previous night after I served him waffles and sausage for breakfast, grilled brat-worst for lunch and pot roast with Yorkshire pudding and gravy for supper to welcome him home from his latest overseas trip. (This is the man who collects countries-in-which-he-has-eaten-pizza. Current count? 78) He got up long after jet-lag should have knocked him out and sat in front of a TV ball game I had recorded while he was gone. He would have liked to throw up and be done with it. I got up and made him mint and rosemary tea.

"I'll be fine," he said. "There's nothing you can do. Go back to bed."

I brought him a cup of tea and didn't mention our friend reading in bed while her husband died of congestive heart failure in front of the TV minutes after assuring her he was fine.

Eventually the emergency room doctors in Madison determined Steve was not having a heart attack, or other life-threatening problems and sent him on his way with instructions to see his family doctor. Due to my commitments in Indianapolis, he lived on oatmeal, un-buttered pancakes, grilled chicken and dry toast for a week before that could happen. They brought him a lovely vegetable platter at my $60-a-plate awards dinner.

Last Sunday I participated in the Race for a Cure with my daughter, grandchildren and a group of friends. For us it was less a race and more an amble among the strollers, wagons and 50,000 other people raising money to fight breast cancer. All around me were little groups with names like "Treasure Chests" or "Angie's Angels". They walked in celebration of a survivor (wearing a special pink T-shirt) or in memory of a loved one gone. Each of those 50,000 people had a story to tell. My cousin's daughter is fighting breast cancer right now. Her grandmother is a survivor.

Our pastor friend, Don Gerig, is blogging his journey with a brain tumor. A colleague from Africa recently retired to Australia only to find she has advanced pancreatic cancer. It all puts gall bladder surgery in perspective. In the future Steve may have to be a little more careful about the quantity of pizza he consumes.