No, that's not a typo. Since Father's Day is approaching, I thought it might be appropriate to discuss fathers. Two of my recently written novels center around the theme of fathers. I didn't really realize that until I started thinking about this post. Since I grew up without a father, it's interesting how God put this topic in my heart in a big way. Both Conundrum and Intended for Harm are hugely about the experience of having or not having a father in one's life. Yet, the truth is, growing up, I hardly ever thought about it. Not having a father around was very normal for me. When I went to my friends' houses, I rarely saw their fathers, who were either away at work or sequestered in a quiet room in the house far from the noisy kids. So fathers, to me, were fairly nebulous, absent figures.
In earlier posts, I talked about how God gave me the assignment to write Conundrum--which is nearly an autobiography about my father's mysterious death in 1961. To me, it's an unsolved mystery, and although I even researched into it and visited my uncle, whom I hadn't seen since I was ten, I learned nothing that could shed light on how he had died. (You'll have to read the book to see how strange the circumstances were.) But throughout the book, my protagonist, Lisa, explores feelings foreign to her--what having a dad must be like, and what she missed out on. By the end of the book, she comes to feel she finally knows much about this man, but in my life, I draw a big blank.
Which leads me to my latest book: Intended for Harm. I had thought all I was doing was telling a modern-day story of Joseph from the Bible. I had planned to explore the effects of merged marriages and favoritism and abandonment. But God kept pulling me to pay attention to something else. And that was the role of Jacob as a father, in light of his mistreatment by his own father, Isaac. And all this comes front and center in the book as Jacob (Jake) cannot fathom the concept of a father God who cares about him.
I spoke to many who had been raised by absent, abusive, or mean fathers. I began to learn that many people, men especially, have a very hard time accepting God as a father because their own father represents a negative figure. When I talked to a good friend about how she could always be so trusting and positive that God loved her so much and cared about her life, she told me she was raised by an amazing father--one who loved, accepted, and encouraged her throughout her childhood. Transferring that concept over to our heavenly Father was no problem for her. Her trust comes naturally. but it doesn't for many of us. All I had was a critical mother who betrayed and emotionally battered me and my children. She was not a father figure, but she was a parental figure, and so I found that much of my insecurity and sense of unworthiness in God's sight came from her mistreatment of me.
If you were raised by a loving father, give thanks. Tell him how much you love him, and realize he is precious. I wish I had a father I could say those things to. You, in essence, have a "father along" as you journey farther along life's path, which is a sweet gift. Now, at this time in my life, I feel the absence of a father more than I did as a child. I do believe I will see my real father in the next world, as I understand he accepted Jesus right before he died of leukemia, which in itself is an amazing story (for a very devout Jew in hospice in a Catholic hospital). I learned a lot through this exploration of fathers and God as Father. I hope that the deep, troubled feelings my characters process as they deal with their fathers or lack thereof will bring encouragement, enlightenment, and gratitude for the best father in the universe--our Creator and Father of the celestial lights.
Happy Father's Day!
Showing posts with label Intended for harm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Intended for harm. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Intention as a Theme
As I begin the upward climb to the big finale of my latest novel, Intended for Harm, I've been dwelling more and more on the themes of the book and how to bring them out in a powerful way. As with all my books, I am prompted to write this particular story because a key idea drives me--whether it be about jealousy, revenge, greed, grief, or betrayal. Intended for Harm, a modern-day story of Jacob and his family, is all about the wounds we receive in life (emotionally) and the lies we come to believe as a result.
Each of my nine main characters--Jake, his first and second wives, his six children--have suffered, much as we all do in life. I always aim for a psychological study of human nature--what are our core needs and what happens when those needs aren't met. With more than 400 pages written so far, I've come to care so much about these wounded, hurting people and have found my title (reflecting my main theme) becoming an interesting concept to ponder.
The title of the book comes from Genesis 50:20: "What you intended for harm, God intended for good, for the saving of life..." This is a little bit of tweaking on my part, but the gist is there. We often look at the hurtful experiences in our lives as harmful, and they are. They hurt. And sometimes the person doling out the hurt does intend our harm. There's no denying that is a reality in our world, in our fallen state.
But God is above our petty, sinful nature. He is perfect, omniscient, and leads us for our good. Most of us are familiar with the verse in Romans 8 that says all things work for the good of those who love God. We read in Hebrews 12 how he disciplines us for our good. Good things come from endurance; suffering builds character.
I've been thinking about intention. Human intention versus divine intention. How God never intends harm. He knows the plans he has for us, to give us a future and a hope, for good and not for harm. God intends good things for us, but sometimes, like the Bible says, we direct our own steps and come to harm. Which gets me thinking about my own actions and the intentions behind them. When I speak or act, what exactly are my intentions? Are they to honor and lift up God? Are they to encourage others and help them? Or are they self-serving, stemming from pride, a need for attention, or a desire to push ahead of another?
It was God's intention from the beginning of time to provide a way out of sin and death, and everything he did as time moved forward was meant to realize that intention, culminating at the cross. If we truly believe God intends good for us, shouldn't that shift the way we see trials and disappointments in our lives? If we know, in the long run, that God intends us to become more like his son, so that we can live with him forever in perfect love and gratitude, shouldn't we think a bit before complaining about our life?
I know I have a lot to learn to get to a place of acceptance. I still grumble, worry, experience envy and disappointment. But under it all, I know God is doing a work in me, however painful, and his intention is for my good, not my harm. If I can remember this each day, my path will feel smoother and my trust and appreciation will grow. That is my prayer today for us all.
Each of my nine main characters--Jake, his first and second wives, his six children--have suffered, much as we all do in life. I always aim for a psychological study of human nature--what are our core needs and what happens when those needs aren't met. With more than 400 pages written so far, I've come to care so much about these wounded, hurting people and have found my title (reflecting my main theme) becoming an interesting concept to ponder.
The title of the book comes from Genesis 50:20: "What you intended for harm, God intended for good, for the saving of life..." This is a little bit of tweaking on my part, but the gist is there. We often look at the hurtful experiences in our lives as harmful, and they are. They hurt. And sometimes the person doling out the hurt does intend our harm. There's no denying that is a reality in our world, in our fallen state.
But God is above our petty, sinful nature. He is perfect, omniscient, and leads us for our good. Most of us are familiar with the verse in Romans 8 that says all things work for the good of those who love God. We read in Hebrews 12 how he disciplines us for our good. Good things come from endurance; suffering builds character.
I've been thinking about intention. Human intention versus divine intention. How God never intends harm. He knows the plans he has for us, to give us a future and a hope, for good and not for harm. God intends good things for us, but sometimes, like the Bible says, we direct our own steps and come to harm. Which gets me thinking about my own actions and the intentions behind them. When I speak or act, what exactly are my intentions? Are they to honor and lift up God? Are they to encourage others and help them? Or are they self-serving, stemming from pride, a need for attention, or a desire to push ahead of another?
It was God's intention from the beginning of time to provide a way out of sin and death, and everything he did as time moved forward was meant to realize that intention, culminating at the cross. If we truly believe God intends good for us, shouldn't that shift the way we see trials and disappointments in our lives? If we know, in the long run, that God intends us to become more like his son, so that we can live with him forever in perfect love and gratitude, shouldn't we think a bit before complaining about our life?
I know I have a lot to learn to get to a place of acceptance. I still grumble, worry, experience envy and disappointment. But under it all, I know God is doing a work in me, however painful, and his intention is for my good, not my harm. If I can remember this each day, my path will feel smoother and my trust and appreciation will grow. That is my prayer today for us all.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Not-so-sudden Flash about Sudden Fiction
I've been enjoying this strange, intriguing journey of writing short scenes in my new novel, Intended for Harm, inspired by a book I had read many years ago: Palm in the Hand stories by Japanese Nobel laureate Kawabata. When I began plotting out my novel and knew I had to unveil a family drama over a period of forty years, I saw immediately how to construct it--inspired by Kawabata's intriguing style of creating complete short stories that filled roughly one page.
I've always loved short stories and admired the craft. Writing a short story is much harder than a novel; you have to boil down everything you mean to say and imply in the fewest words possible. Flannery O'Connor, Raymond Carver, and Alice Munroe are my top favorites; they are able to capture a slice of life in a short scene that tells so much more than is put in words. Implication, to me, is the most powerful and artful way of writing, and so I envisioned my novel as comprising each year as a chapter, with a handful of short scenes that would cover about fifteen minutes of time--my version of a palm in the hand story.
Silly me--I had thought Kawabata was the creator of such an amazing idea. I didn't know that authors like Hemingway, Vonnegut, Kafka, and Chekhov had also written in this manner on occasion. And I didn't even know that the current rages of "flash fiction" and "sudden fiction" were describing this very thing. I looked up these terms and discovered flash fiction is usually for a short piece between 300-1000 words, whereas sudden fiction is over 1000 words. Maybe sudden implies a longer lengthy moment than flash. Not sure who came up with these definitions, but the term "flash fiction" is thought to have been coined by the 1992 anthology of that name.
Of course, my scenes are not exactly sudden fiction, since they are not complete stories in themselves, but I do try to create the sense that each scene is a complete vignette or slice of life in itself. The challenge for me is to come up with an ordinary moment, not a string of key, suspenseful, benchmark moments in the lives of the Abrams family. Rather, I want to take a slice out life, fifteen minutes out of an ordinary day, and reveal the emotional landscape of the characters at that moment. Sure, I am putting in conflict, unspoken needs, hidden fears, unvoiced dreams. But instead of a continuity of time, where one scene generally flows close in time out of the previous, all these scenes are separated by many months. Which creates a huge writing challenge. The tendency for many writers would be to slop up the scenes with massive amounts of back story to catch the reader up to the present moment. but that would weigh down the story and defeat the whole structure. Instead, it takes careful thought to move the reader along through the years at a fast clip, building character arcs and aging characters, yet keeping some sort of flow to the whole thread stitching it together. Needless to say, it's a great challenge but seems to be working.
I would encourage readers to pick up Kawabata's book and read these beautiful tales so full of life, pain, and poignancy. In a hurry-up world, it makes sense that flash fiction has come into vogue, with its many online ezines and other outlets for writers to post their stories. Again, I will reiterate my belief (and maybe some of you are tiring of hearing it)--more isn't necessarily better. In fact, less is almost always more. if you can learn how to be succinct and moving by trimming to to the bare essence of a thought, a moment, a glance, you can produce a powerful effect. Sometimes just a few words can have more force than 1,000. So think, mull, choose carefully. find the best word, the best phrase, the best paragraph to say what you mean. And then say it in less words. Perhaps if all writers wrote one short piece of flash fiction each week, and then polished it to perfection, it would help train us to be better word handlers, and not just throw out the first things that come to mind onto the page--which are almost always dull, cliche, and uninspired.
I've always loved short stories and admired the craft. Writing a short story is much harder than a novel; you have to boil down everything you mean to say and imply in the fewest words possible. Flannery O'Connor, Raymond Carver, and Alice Munroe are my top favorites; they are able to capture a slice of life in a short scene that tells so much more than is put in words. Implication, to me, is the most powerful and artful way of writing, and so I envisioned my novel as comprising each year as a chapter, with a handful of short scenes that would cover about fifteen minutes of time--my version of a palm in the hand story.
Silly me--I had thought Kawabata was the creator of such an amazing idea. I didn't know that authors like Hemingway, Vonnegut, Kafka, and Chekhov had also written in this manner on occasion. And I didn't even know that the current rages of "flash fiction" and "sudden fiction" were describing this very thing. I looked up these terms and discovered flash fiction is usually for a short piece between 300-1000 words, whereas sudden fiction is over 1000 words. Maybe sudden implies a longer lengthy moment than flash. Not sure who came up with these definitions, but the term "flash fiction" is thought to have been coined by the 1992 anthology of that name.
Of course, my scenes are not exactly sudden fiction, since they are not complete stories in themselves, but I do try to create the sense that each scene is a complete vignette or slice of life in itself. The challenge for me is to come up with an ordinary moment, not a string of key, suspenseful, benchmark moments in the lives of the Abrams family. Rather, I want to take a slice out life, fifteen minutes out of an ordinary day, and reveal the emotional landscape of the characters at that moment. Sure, I am putting in conflict, unspoken needs, hidden fears, unvoiced dreams. But instead of a continuity of time, where one scene generally flows close in time out of the previous, all these scenes are separated by many months. Which creates a huge writing challenge. The tendency for many writers would be to slop up the scenes with massive amounts of back story to catch the reader up to the present moment. but that would weigh down the story and defeat the whole structure. Instead, it takes careful thought to move the reader along through the years at a fast clip, building character arcs and aging characters, yet keeping some sort of flow to the whole thread stitching it together. Needless to say, it's a great challenge but seems to be working.
I would encourage readers to pick up Kawabata's book and read these beautiful tales so full of life, pain, and poignancy. In a hurry-up world, it makes sense that flash fiction has come into vogue, with its many online ezines and other outlets for writers to post their stories. Again, I will reiterate my belief (and maybe some of you are tiring of hearing it)--more isn't necessarily better. In fact, less is almost always more. if you can learn how to be succinct and moving by trimming to to the bare essence of a thought, a moment, a glance, you can produce a powerful effect. Sometimes just a few words can have more force than 1,000. So think, mull, choose carefully. find the best word, the best phrase, the best paragraph to say what you mean. And then say it in less words. Perhaps if all writers wrote one short piece of flash fiction each week, and then polished it to perfection, it would help train us to be better word handlers, and not just throw out the first things that come to mind onto the page--which are almost always dull, cliche, and uninspired.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Intended for Harm
Intended for Harm. That's the title and theme of my new novel. I'm now about fifty thousand words into it, but have only just begun this family saga. As always, I learn a lot as a book progresses. It's as if while I write, its secrets begin to spill out. Not just characters' secrets, but the subtext that probably comes from my subconscious. We are told to write what we are passionate about, and to create characters that have something to say or that portray something important.
I was given a huge burst of inspired creativity one afternoon as I sat on my deck overlooking the redwoods and the creek. I knew one of my characters--Leah--seemed a lot like water, and I started seeing images and qualities of water and how that metaphor fit her personality and behavior. It struck me at that moments that Jacob, too, had an "earth" quality--wood. Years ago I studied a bit about five elements acupuncture, and thought how treatment of illness was related to how balanced or imbalanced someone's elements were in relation to their health. There is a fascinating correlation to the natural elements, seasons, and cycles, and health. You can have too much metal or not enough fire. Suddenly, all nine of my characters could be associated with an element, and that element grew into a metaphor and symbolism for that character. Since I'm first a poet and love language and metaphor, this eye-opening idea flowed into pages of notes and now that I'm deep into the story, I've been discovering how these characters are entwined with their element.
People often ask writers how much of themselves they put into their characters and story. Apart from my mostly autobiographical novel Conundrum, I usually don't consciously put myself or those I know in my books. But of course, I draw from the hurt, frustration, and disappointment I've experienced in life. I've had dreams dashed, been betrayed by family, lost hope. I found it odd that Romantic Times, in giving Someone to Blame a glowing review, said the book was well-researched, which I suppose referred to to the topic of suicide and grief. I had another reviewer say I must have experienced this type of loss to have written it so well. But I haven't. I've known friends and family who have attempted and committed suicide, but I didn't research it, nor did I really think about those people. I think that an author who has experienced many different pains in life can pull from those experiences and morph them into different stories.
My high school English teacher told me all those decades ago that if you are a good actor and can immerse yourself in the role of your characters, you can be a terrific novelist. I think that's true. When I write in a character's point of view, I just let go of myself and become the character--feel and think the way they do. Although some friends have trouble doing this due to feeling tainted or spiritually attacked (regarding dark characters), I don't. I find it fascinating to delve into the psyche or mindset of a character, understand their motivations, fears, desperate needs. I always know I am not them, and the reason I am doing this is to create a moving, believable story.
So, those are my thoughts this day as I work on my novel. I'd love to hear what goes through your mind as you write and create memorable characters.
I was given a huge burst of inspired creativity one afternoon as I sat on my deck overlooking the redwoods and the creek. I knew one of my characters--Leah--seemed a lot like water, and I started seeing images and qualities of water and how that metaphor fit her personality and behavior. It struck me at that moments that Jacob, too, had an "earth" quality--wood. Years ago I studied a bit about five elements acupuncture, and thought how treatment of illness was related to how balanced or imbalanced someone's elements were in relation to their health. There is a fascinating correlation to the natural elements, seasons, and cycles, and health. You can have too much metal or not enough fire. Suddenly, all nine of my characters could be associated with an element, and that element grew into a metaphor and symbolism for that character. Since I'm first a poet and love language and metaphor, this eye-opening idea flowed into pages of notes and now that I'm deep into the story, I've been discovering how these characters are entwined with their element.
People often ask writers how much of themselves they put into their characters and story. Apart from my mostly autobiographical novel Conundrum, I usually don't consciously put myself or those I know in my books. But of course, I draw from the hurt, frustration, and disappointment I've experienced in life. I've had dreams dashed, been betrayed by family, lost hope. I found it odd that Romantic Times, in giving Someone to Blame a glowing review, said the book was well-researched, which I suppose referred to to the topic of suicide and grief. I had another reviewer say I must have experienced this type of loss to have written it so well. But I haven't. I've known friends and family who have attempted and committed suicide, but I didn't research it, nor did I really think about those people. I think that an author who has experienced many different pains in life can pull from those experiences and morph them into different stories.
My high school English teacher told me all those decades ago that if you are a good actor and can immerse yourself in the role of your characters, you can be a terrific novelist. I think that's true. When I write in a character's point of view, I just let go of myself and become the character--feel and think the way they do. Although some friends have trouble doing this due to feeling tainted or spiritually attacked (regarding dark characters), I don't. I find it fascinating to delve into the psyche or mindset of a character, understand their motivations, fears, desperate needs. I always know I am not them, and the reason I am doing this is to create a moving, believable story.
So, those are my thoughts this day as I work on my novel. I'd love to hear what goes through your mind as you write and create memorable characters.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
The Heart of the Story
I've been pondering lately about what makes a fantastic story, and also thinking a lot about the things Donald Maass discusses in his book The Fire in the Fiction. Because I want very much to reach my readers' hearts with powerful stories that will make them rethink their lives and values, I spend a lot of time considering the themes of the books I write, especially while in the planning stage.
I'm working on a new book entitled Intended for Harm, a modern-day interpretation of the story of Jacob and Joseph. I've always related to Joseph (read my blog entry on playing dominoes in jail with Joseph), since he too suffered a horrible family betrayal and also was so mistreated by so many people when all he wanted was to do good and please God.
So as I began plotting my new novel and all the pieces started falling into place, I kept asking myself: "Just what is the heart of this story?" "What am I really wanting the reader to think about and take away with them when they finish reading this book?" As I prayed about this, I kept getting tugged away from Joseph--who I thought all along this book would center on. God kept bringing me back to Jacob. "What about him?" I kept asking.
As with all my novels, I like to take as much time as needed to let ideas and themes grow organically in my mind and heart. I do not push myself to hurry and get a plot figured out or characters summed up easily. I mull over my ideas and characters sometimes for months until there is clarity of purpose. It feels as if I get given all the ingredients for a great soup, but I just don't have any idea of what I'm really making or what aftertaste will linger until I actually let the pot simmer for a long time and then taste it.
I finally got to the "aha" moment in developing this book when I realized it was about Jacob I was meant to explore. Here was a young man despised by his father. His father preferred his twin brother, and he made no attempt to hide it. Jacob hung out with his mother, and was a more sensitive son. But I saw in my Jacob a man who runs away from his past steeped in confusion and lacking peace. For, men who have abusive or absent fathers consistently struggle with believing in a God who could truly love and accept them for who they are.
This became a huge revelation to me as I discussed my book idea with others. God connected me with people who had the same story of the husband or father or brother. I began to see this almost-epidemic situation of men who could not and did not believe God loved them because of being unable to relate to a loving father figure (and often these men have mothers who are overbearing and judgmental).
My Jacob, then, wrestles with God--not in the way the biblical Jacob did, but in the way that is too prevalent today--wrestling with the concept and acceptance of a God who loves them. Especially when things go wrong in life, when dreams fail and tragedy strikes, this ugly lie of the enemy powerfully sinks deep into the heart of men who fear judgment and who feel they can never measure up. Despite knowing what the Bible says, despite realizing their feelings are completely unscriptural. Those things don't matter. What is experienced in the heart forms the truth of their perception. I know now it is time to dig in and write the book. I know exactly what story God wants me to tell.
I had this image yesterday appear in my mind--of the earth's fiery molten core. How the outer landscape of the surface of our planet has been molded and shaped by the activity of the core's heat. Our stories on the outside, on the surface of our plots, show a landscape of life. there are valleys and mountains, deserts and prolific forests. Yet, what creates all the diverse terrain is the hot core, a place that burns so hot it would melt everything in proximity.
That is how I see a powerful book, one that has fire in the fiction. The deep core of our stories must burn with heat, with passion to tell something important. That is--if it's important to you to tell those kinds of stories, the life-changing kinds. From the great burning unquenchable fire springs forth all the elements of a beautiful story--what we read on the surface. But when a writer truly taps into that fire and lets it be the force the molds and forms the landscape of her story, it will be a powerful one indeed.
I'm working on a new book entitled Intended for Harm, a modern-day interpretation of the story of Jacob and Joseph. I've always related to Joseph (read my blog entry on playing dominoes in jail with Joseph), since he too suffered a horrible family betrayal and also was so mistreated by so many people when all he wanted was to do good and please God.
So as I began plotting my new novel and all the pieces started falling into place, I kept asking myself: "Just what is the heart of this story?" "What am I really wanting the reader to think about and take away with them when they finish reading this book?" As I prayed about this, I kept getting tugged away from Joseph--who I thought all along this book would center on. God kept bringing me back to Jacob. "What about him?" I kept asking.
As with all my novels, I like to take as much time as needed to let ideas and themes grow organically in my mind and heart. I do not push myself to hurry and get a plot figured out or characters summed up easily. I mull over my ideas and characters sometimes for months until there is clarity of purpose. It feels as if I get given all the ingredients for a great soup, but I just don't have any idea of what I'm really making or what aftertaste will linger until I actually let the pot simmer for a long time and then taste it.
I finally got to the "aha" moment in developing this book when I realized it was about Jacob I was meant to explore. Here was a young man despised by his father. His father preferred his twin brother, and he made no attempt to hide it. Jacob hung out with his mother, and was a more sensitive son. But I saw in my Jacob a man who runs away from his past steeped in confusion and lacking peace. For, men who have abusive or absent fathers consistently struggle with believing in a God who could truly love and accept them for who they are.
This became a huge revelation to me as I discussed my book idea with others. God connected me with people who had the same story of the husband or father or brother. I began to see this almost-epidemic situation of men who could not and did not believe God loved them because of being unable to relate to a loving father figure (and often these men have mothers who are overbearing and judgmental).
My Jacob, then, wrestles with God--not in the way the biblical Jacob did, but in the way that is too prevalent today--wrestling with the concept and acceptance of a God who loves them. Especially when things go wrong in life, when dreams fail and tragedy strikes, this ugly lie of the enemy powerfully sinks deep into the heart of men who fear judgment and who feel they can never measure up. Despite knowing what the Bible says, despite realizing their feelings are completely unscriptural. Those things don't matter. What is experienced in the heart forms the truth of their perception. I know now it is time to dig in and write the book. I know exactly what story God wants me to tell.
I had this image yesterday appear in my mind--of the earth's fiery molten core. How the outer landscape of the surface of our planet has been molded and shaped by the activity of the core's heat. Our stories on the outside, on the surface of our plots, show a landscape of life. there are valleys and mountains, deserts and prolific forests. Yet, what creates all the diverse terrain is the hot core, a place that burns so hot it would melt everything in proximity.
That is how I see a powerful book, one that has fire in the fiction. The deep core of our stories must burn with heat, with passion to tell something important. That is--if it's important to you to tell those kinds of stories, the life-changing kinds. From the great burning unquenchable fire springs forth all the elements of a beautiful story--what we read on the surface. But when a writer truly taps into that fire and lets it be the force the molds and forms the landscape of her story, it will be a powerful one indeed.
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