When I was a young boy I devoured stories about Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, Agent X-9, Black Beauty, The Three Musketeers, and other adventurers. These stories filled me with an appreciation for the vast wonders of my world, its possibilities, and for writers who knew how to transcend the ordinary, or at least make the ordinary more vivid and meaningful. They also helped filled the lonely hours every young boy occasionally experiences.
When I read these stories (books) I did not learn things—I experienced things! If I had been interested in learning something I would have read nonfiction, as that is the purpose of nonfiction. When I read fiction I want to “feel something” and not “learn something.” Nonfiction should appeal to your intellect. Fiction should appeal to your emotions, and be written with the proper blend of conflict and emotional excitement.
As a writer of short stories my goal is not to make you think as much as it is to make you feel. My goal is to make you laugh, cry, maybe shiver, get you angry, make you wonder, or maybe make you feel as if you just got hit in the gut with a sharp elbow. My goal is to grab your complete attention for a few minutes and drag you into a world of my creation where you will experience the emotions I have infused within my story and characters. I may not always do that successfully—but it is always my main intent.
One thing I refuse to do is create characters you can watch from a distance while they solve their problems according to biblical principles—whatever that means! That formula ruined Christian fiction for years because its main purpose was to teach the reader a lesson of sorts, so that instead of having an actual story we are treated to a nonfiction piece with dialogue that is passed off as fiction.
This obviously comes across as plastic and usually fails with any reader over the age of twelve. Adult readers do not appreciate being “used” in this manner. There is nothing wrong with possibly learning something from a short story, but if the main purpose of that story is to teach the reader a particular lesson, or somehow help improve his life, then that story is fast on the way to becoming compromised or even ruined.
Consider this: If you do not read a detective novel (or short story) to learn how to become a better detective; if you do not read a western to learn how to become a better cowboy; if you do not read a foreign intrigue novel to learn how to become a better spy— then why would you read a Christian novel (or short story) to learn how to become a better Christian? Where did this nonsensical idea come from?
The proper definition of Christian fiction is: A story Christians can relate to because of the subject matter—period! The stories in this book (hopefully) fit that description. And since that is my only guideline, I am released from the responsibility of creating cardboard characters who nauseatingly do everything just right, or who “come to realize” what they should have done that was right. To illustrate: In one story (The Fear) we have a Christian who in a blind rage of seeking revenge actually kills someone.
Do I approve of this action? No. Do I think Christians should go about killing people who take advantage of them? No. But I wrote a story about one who did. So what? Does the reader learn anything from this story? I doubt it, and do not even consider the question important. My only concern is (1) Did you enjoy reading the story, and (2) did it hold your interest throughout? If you can answer yes to both those questions then the story was a success, as that was its purpose. You had an experience.
“But with that kind of approach you could be sending the wrong message!”
Sorry, but I am not into sending messages. I am into telling stories. If you want a message go check your e-mail.
Most present day Christian fiction falls into three major categories. (1) Romance (prairie, colonial, etc.), (2) allegory (C. S. Lewis spin-offs), and (3) end-time conspiracies (many times with the Antichrist chasing everyone).
The problem with this kind of fiction is that it is foreign to the world you meet when you walk out into the real world each day. It isn’t there!
However, you should be able to relate to the stories in this book as they are filled with people you know and read about every day (and who are in some ways just like you). Nurses, cops, the disillusioned, store clerks, bums on the street who are always asking for spare change, adulterers, cab drivers, a Muslim suicide bomber, gamblers, people who have abortions, drunks, subway riders, arsonists, and even the old man who lives next door. We all know or hear of people like this because they are part of the world in which we live. Their fears, problems, goals, and frustrations are no different from yours. They “feel” just like you do; their emotions are triggered by circumstances familiar to you, so that when they have the urge to get angry, or laugh, or cry, or scream at someone, or shake with fear, or get into an argument—you can relate!
The characters in these stories do not always do the right thing.
But then—neither do you.
Welcome to the real world on the other side of your front
door.