The Most Important Book You’ll Ever Write

In case you missed the rave reviews (here and here), allow me to mention that the UPCI held the Pentecostal Writers Institute (PWI) two weeks ago. Besides that free plug, I bring this up to share a curious observation. I was only able to attend one afternoon of workshops: a challenge to engage in Christian fiction by our very own Kent d Curry and then a challenge to produce Christian scholarly writing by UGST graduate Chris Anderson. If you can’t tell from the topics, there was a juxtaposition between the two challenges, but surprisingly not in a contradictory way.

Fiction vs. Nonfiction
With this blog, I’ve primarily focused on how Apostolics could craft quality fiction—you know, the kind you could stack up beside a Tolstoy or O’Connor work. My opinion was that we have enough doctrine work—we’ve written tons to ourselves to clarify our beliefs, which is great. But with that seemingly covered, my hope has been that we’ll move toward fiction.

And it’s true—we have written lots of nonfiction to ourselves. But here’s where it gets interesting. In his session, Anderson suggested that nonfiction (but specifically academic writing) is vital, but the twist is that we need to establish a voice outside of our own ranks. For too long we’ve allowed other religious groups to define us simply because we don’t have a presence in the larger religious world’s writing and publishing circles.

So suddenly I began to rethink my “we’ve topped off our nonfiction writing” approach. I’m not about to start writing an academic tome on doctrine, but I hope someone out there is.

The bottom line from both the Curry and Anderson sessions is that we must get out there and engage the larger writing world. We need quality writing outside of our own Apostolic circle.

But What to Write?
The most important book you’ll ever write is the book God has inspired you to craft. This is my fundamental belief. But I don’t think it’s from lack of inspiration that writers sometimes pause and consider their market/audience. In this blog we’ve explored our Apostolic identity, improving our craft, handling potentially offensive themes, and much more. Today I question what types of books we need to be writing.

It’s easy for me to assume everyone’s just like me. But maybe not. Maybe our greatest need is not an Apostolic Flannery O’Connor. Maybe we need an Apostolic philosopher/theologian/scholar/writer. I don’t know. Perhaps that’s why God draws and uses people of all interests and walks of life to be writers.

But, again, what is our most pressing need right now? As Apostolic writers, what should we be pursuing? I don’t know that taking a poll where everybody votes on favorite types of books is the best option. But I do really question what we writers need to be pursuing right now.

The Market
What is most important? Should we even ask this question or just write what’s in our hearts? Occasionally there’s the moment where inspiration comes and the story pours onto the page faster than you can type. But then there are moments where it’s sheer work. Either way, consideration of our audience and the market is important.

In a Nutshell
By listening to the two PWI sessions, my simple thought is that we need to step back and take a look. What is our most pressing need as writers? Where are we as a young Apostolic writing union, and in which direction should we focus?

As for me and my laptop, we’ll keep plugging away at Southern fiction inch by inch. Meanwhile, I hope to join you in an open forum to discuss which type of writing we should be pursuing and our general direction as a special focus group.

Link of the Week
Selection from Flannery O’Connor’s Mystery and Manners

Currently Reading
Selections from The Canterbury Tales

Another Free Downloadable Book

Remember this?

Well now fantasy/comic book writer Neil Gaiman has this to share from his blog:

It's worth drawing people's attention to the fact that the free online reading copy of American Gods is now in its last six days online (it ends 31 March 08). I learned this from an email from Harper Collins, which also told me the latest batch of statistics.

For American Gods:

68,000 unique visitors to the book pages of American Gods

3,000,000 book pages viewed in aggregate

And that the weekly book sales of American Gods have apparently gone up by 300%, rather than tumbling into the abyss. (Which is -- the rise, not the tumble -- what I thought would happen. Or at least, what I devoutly hoped would happen.)

The book is up at This URL, if you're interested, or want to pass it along to a friend.

+++++
Absorb the numbers. Sales skyrocket once they start giving it away on the internet. Though to be fair, we have no idea what the 300% growth is measured against. (Were sales nonexistent or healthy..? No way to know.)

Gaiman is an exception to many rules, w/a hardcore following who will buy whatever he writes. (Though frankly, American Gods isn't an especially shining example of excellence, but is a long meandering slog.)

Still, expect more authors to imitate this trend.

Resilience

I'm currently freelancing for a living. My freelancing income is coming from both writing and editing (for magazines, curriculum, corporate media), so I’ve been thinking a lot about both.

For instance, in April I’m going to a books festival replete with big name authors and intimate classrooms, but I realize any author interviews I can score—even with Pulitzer Prize-winner Michael Chabon—will not garner near the acclaim or attention or money as an interview with the director of some lame movie thriller. This matters because it’s how I make my living. Yet it’s also my primary calling from Christ.

At the recent Pentecostal Writer’s Institute (March 12-14, 2008), I was able to interact with many writers with the same calling, but what is said and how we act diverge. In seems there’s a distinct lack of faith in the importance of this calling to write and edit.

Society, Pentecost, Us
While our overall society relies (almost exclusively) on visual cues, our Apostolic culture still relies (almost completely) on oral cues, so that those of us called to write squirm in an ill-defined no man's land between them both. As I told my PWI classes, what’s the response going to be if you tell your pastor, “I can’t make choir (or prayer meeting or a SFC fundraiser) anymore—I’m going to write.”? Even with encouragement, the rewards appear limited. It’s easier to participate in other, more prominent (oral) callings, even if it’s not your primary calling. I saw it in the wake of PWI—a conference of writers, who seemed to believe this was more hobby than holy mission.

Because writing is hard, time-consuming work, because books have lost their central space in society, because of the instant satisfaction of a quality oral presentation, because there are so few writing examples within our ranks, it’s easy to doubt the importance of this calling. We can’t allow ourselves to do that. We didn't choose to do this. God did.

Faith in History
We must trust the written word. It has lasted. It will last. Just because it’s lost its central space in society doesn’t mean it’s lost its historical importance. We forget how transient most other callings are, yet the best writing remains in a way music, speaking styles, acting, films, and painting rarely do.

Writing is the triumph of the inner life, which the visual ignores and for which the oral offers prescriptions instead of illuminations. It is writing that offers the one quality everyone in modern society and too many Apostolic services seem so terrified of—silence. Yet, an infinite God offers an infinity of experiences and has even (ahem) mentioned ministering in such a still, small manner.

Keep writing. Make the sacrifices. Accept the strange looks and even ridicule. Enjoy the joyful loneliness. It matters. And if God gave you the calling, then it will be worth pursuing whether or not you ever get rich and famous, because that’s not why a calling is given.

Just don’t believe that other callings are superior just because they are more prominent. “How shall they hear without a preacher?” is what we’re told, yet someone had to write it before they could quote it.