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

Streptococcus

Well, I haven't written anything new since break ended, because I caught strep and it knocked the wind out of me for three days. Thank God for Penicillin! The little bugger to the right can be fatal, but lucky for me (not so lucky for Jim Henson) I just got the common variety. I'd forgotten how utterly painful it is! So glad it's over. Now I can go back to studying and trying to be productive. Not going to lie, when my fever went down, I enjoyed just watching Invader Zim and eating Red, White and Blue Popsicles!
The semester is finally almost over, and I've never been so glad to see one go. I think the feeling is all around campus, because morale is so low. I'd like to blame it on the nude women walkers downtown, but the truth is, it's just hierarchy and the same old upper echelon bull that plagues most colleges. Well, that's all for now. No Bellamy updates for now!

Update

It's been hard to be in Daniel's shoes this week. When I write, I like to make it personal- mixing in parts of your life, things you've experienced, makes the words more real. This week, April Break, I've been writing about Dan's sixteen-year-old daughter, who has anorexia. On the brink of death, her pain calls Daniel back into the role of father that he had foolishly and selfishly left.

Anorexia is something I've struggled with since I was fifteen. At my lowest weight, my hair fell out, my nails broke, I was always cold, and would often black out from malnourishment. To save energy, my body went on autopilot. I couldnt enjoy my life, my family, my friends. I was dead. Now, things are better, but I'm still haunted by the allure of anorexia, which you have to deal with to understand. I think writing about Gemma's intense struggle for life will be therapuetic
and inspiring. My goal for my writing is to help people, and if just one person can read my manuscript and think, wow, this is something, then I'll be satisfied.

Sorry it's been so long since my last post. I'll try to do better, Kelsey!

A Road Map in my Mind

With two tests down and only one follower (thanks mom!) I find myself so exhausted that a sense of overwhelming (and probably unhealthy) peace has taken the place of anxiety. The problem with this new development becomes- the semester isn't over yet, and things are only going to get harder from here. I'm ready to sleep, to not feel nauseous all the time, for this headache to finally go away- to be able to write. On a lighter note, I had a great, encouraging meeting with my professor today and she was very helpful in helping me plan out the next step in Bellamy's long journey to the truth. I missed my deadline, but I did enough research so that she understood I was doing the work- just not in a form that I could pass in. There's a road map in my mind and it's leading me deep into the abyss of Daniel's life- but I can't go there yet. As soon as I do, all of my other priorities (classes) will go straight to the back burner. I can't afford to do that just yet.