The Anxiety of a Christian Writer Writing a Non-Christian Book

Daniel's been going through some rough times over the last few days. Poor devil. A female serial killer with a good batting swing can do a lot of damage, even to a trained killer, especially if he's haunted by his sister's untimely murder.

I've been worried since yesterday, thinking about all of the things in my novel that people in my church, my family, and my group of friends wouldn't necessarily be crazy about. It's a story about raw human emotions, the barest form of pain and angst that comes with loss and failure.

I've kept F&%$ out completely. That's a word for shock factor, and I'm hoping the manuscript has enough of that on it's own. Also, "Shit" is out, too. I just don't like the idea of that coming out of Dan or Samuel's mouth. They're hardened investigators, but they aren't sailors. The words they do say are "hell" "damn" and "bastard". But tell me, if you're little sister and her husband had just been murdered, would you have pleasant words to describe the killer at large? Realistically, no. In fact, if anyone touched my little brother I'd have a lot more than words for them. Shank to the ribs, that's all I can say.

And, for when my brother Matt decides that reading is an A-OK idea, and Benjamin learns to read in the first place, I dont want them to have to read something I'm not proud of. So, on that note, there are also no sex scenes in my untitled manuscript. I think they are, on principle, completely and utterly uneccesary to the heart of the story. Sure, maybe there will be insinuations and allusions, but no sex, no way. I'm not a prude. I just want my work to stand on its own two feet without any sort of literary cop out.

If I remove the parts of my novel that make it true to life- the life of a non-Christian cop searching for answers, then I wouldn't be being true to the story I'm writing. I can't do that. I can't betray what I've found, or what's found me. I hope the people in my life can handle that.

Back from the Baltics

The words are finally coming. I've been waiting for a month and it finally paid off. I guess Daniel got tired of windsurfing in the Baltics (thank goodness). The problem is, real life dictates I have little time to actually sit and write. I'm not at a place in my life where I can stay home and write. If I was, I'd be much farther along in the novel.

But that's real life, real difficulties. Every page is a small victory, and I can't take much credit. Daniel is the conduit and God is the inspiration. Now I have to go to work and be an adult. When I get home, I'll have company. Writing will have to wait, Daniel will have to take his turn with impatience. His story will continue... when the real world stops knocking and gives me a moment to think.

Grenada or the Baltics: Daniel's on Vacation

It's okay to be unsure of things when you're writing. Life's a constant adventure on the keyboard, and thank goodness there's a backspace. No matter what you tell yourself as a writer, you're not in control once the inspiration hits and the character comes to life. It's all backseat driving from then on. Sadly, Daniel Bellamy has been taking a break somewhere in the back of my mind, possibly sunning himself on the beaches of Grenada or wind surfing in the Baltics. Either way, he isn't where he's supposed to be. It's not his fault, of course. I made him, breathed life into him, and it's my responsibility to make him work. My lack of motivation has pushed Dan far away from where he needs to be, and I desperately have to get him back. He's the downtrodden hero, the man behind the magic, and he's MIA. Get back into gear, Daniel! I cant go it alone, and neither can you.

Update: Bloody Hands

Murder isn't something people think too much about as a general rule. It represents something too frightening and familiar for most of us to bear-- namely, the potential for violence that all human beings have. What most people avoid I spend days thinking about, trying to piece together a story that reaches back sixty years, full to the brim with homicide and good intentions.
Daniel Bellamy thinks along the same lines I do, we're one person after all, breathing the same air and existing on plains separated by a paper thin barrier. Getting into his head is like opening a door in mine. He's a good man and a good cop, but with enough baggage to sink the Titanic. Sometimes just thinking about sitting down at the computer is too overwhelming. Motivation eludes me and I'm desperate for inspiration. The trouble isn't with connecting to Dan, it's connecting all of the dots of the story.

Exhausted, Daniel placed his gun and holster on the kitchen table and made for the sink. He needed to wash it all from his hands, the blood, the weight of failure. His sister was dead and the killer was out there, always three steps ahead. = Kate