Short story author and playwright Stacy Barton continues her series on writing her first novel.
Rewrites Verses Edits
There are two ways to tackle fixing your story…rewrites and edits. Rewrites are when you cut off the second half, start in the middle, and add a whole new ending; edits are when you fix clichés, adjust voice, or otherwise rework the language. Edits, I like, rewrites are something to be “wrastled” to the ground and conquered. My cousin Greg was a wrastler (that’s how you say it in Oklahoma) and I know from watching him that you have to be smart and wiry and strong to win the match.
As a short story author, I write most of my stories in a flash of passion and edit them until they sing. I rarely rewrite. However, after piecing together the second draft of my first novel, I found myself knee deep in a world of massive reconstruction. My new draft needed a slew of new scenes grafted into a spotty collection of rearranged material.
Writing on the Porch
I have a very distinct memory of sitting on the porch in the Florida sun just a few months ago. I was attempting to add new scenes into the holes of my second draft. It was painful. Spilling out onto the page in the thrill of a first draft is one thing, targeting your creativity into a specific hole of something you aren’t sure will survive the effort, is another thing all together.
So there I was, crafting my second draft. I would sit out on the porch and write a scene or a part of a scene – bleed it onto the page – and then get up and walk around the house. After a lap, I would sit down and add some more, try again, finish a scene, then get up and walk into the kitchen. Inside, I would eat some cheese or a pickle or drink sweet tea right out of the jug. It was summer so when I returned to the porch, my legs stuck to the plastic chair. But I kept at it. I kept writing. One scene, one pace around the kitchen at a time.
Finally, one day, it was done. Not done, done. I had just finished the new structure, which meant draft two was complete. It was jerky and bumpy and it needed a good shine, but the basic body was there and most of the scenes I needed had found their way onto the page. After I caught my breath, I could try to make what I had rewritten work. I could edit.
Coming Up Next: Choosing Your Readers Wisely
Stacy Barton is a short story author and playwright who is currently slogging through her first novel. Her debut collection of short stories, Surviving Nashville, was released in 2007. Her stories and poetry have appeared in a variety of literary magazines including Potomac Review, Relief, Ruminate and Stonework and her fifth stage play, an adaptation of Dylan Thomas’ A Child’s Christmas in Wales, premiered in Orlando, Florida in 2006. In addition to short stories, plays, and poetry, Stacy is the author of a children's picture book and an animated short film. She is currently a free-lance scriptwriter for the Disney Company. Visit her at www.stacybarton.com.
Stephen Swanson considers the potential for expanding our definition of worship music and the potential for broadening our view of faith at the same time.
What Does Music Have to Do with Being a Christian?
One of my first interactions with the question of “What is Christian?” came from my parents. Being strong, evangelical parents, they wanted to ensure that my young mind remained focused on the good, the holy, the sacred in the world. However, because of their generation’s experiences in the 1960s and 70s, I believe, they had a more open view of what Christian music might mean. So, rather than merely limiting my and my brothers’ searches for music to the “Christian/Spiritual/Gospel” racks in our local music stores, we had the option of justifying our choices by research and discernment. This forced me to really consider and study and think about what “Christianity” meant and how I could get my new favorite bands into that definition, or at least not obviously outside of that definition.
This process of connecting music and faith within popular music is certainly not limited to parents and their children. Of late, I’ve seen a lot of other voices questioning the identity of Christianity through a musical lens. Of course, we all know the U2/Bono and faith debate. In the past few years, the renewed interest in old-timers like Johnny Cash have also added to this debate. Even the criticism of popular indie music has focused on the diversity of music that can be called Christian, from praise songs, to the Danielson Family, to Pedro the Lion, and onto Sufjan Stevens. This perhaps is epitomized in Andrew Beaujon’sBody Piercing Saved My Life: Inside the Phenomenon of Christian Rock in which this contributing writer to Spin magazine spent a significant amount of time delving into what the phrase “Christian Rock” meant in and of itself and what it meant to the culture more broadly.
“One Love”: A Story of a Little Rasta in Church
A couple of years ago, my wife and I attended a fairly small church in a very urban neighborhood, and we loved to go to the early service that was held in the fellowship hall because it was a bit less formal and the people (a mix of people from the neighborhood, more elder parishioners, and young families) always actively welcomed us in a genuine and interested way that accepted us as people and not just potential donors or volunteers, although they needed plenty of both.
One morning, we were running a touch late, and as we were coming in, the praise band was beginning the first song, but rather than a more accepted praise song, hymn, or an example of the sort of Jesus People songs of which middle-aged ex-hippies are wont to enjoy, I heard familiar off-beat guitar rhythms more associated with islands and beaches than a wintery Northwest Ohio.
“Kicking off” is not really an action that one may ascribe to this group of dedicated musicians, but they did their darnedest to kick off the 1977 Bob Marley hit “One Love” right at that moment. At first, I thought of it as cool and impetuous choice highlighting the difference between this church and many of the more staid, A-Mighty-Fortress-Is-Our-God type church. It certainly communicate that message, but more lay beneath the surface.
Listening to the words, my mind shifted into the discerning gear instituted in my parents’ house and refined in my liberal arts, Christian college. I immediately set aside the obvious differences between the Rastafarian background grounding the song and the Christian context in which it was being performed. I know that this is a false assumption to some degree, but the musicians were clearly not playing the song to communicate their devotion to Jah but rather because it spoke to something in their faith. My goal was to find out what that might consist of.
Stay tuned for Stephen's next blog, where he'll analyze the lyrics of this popular song in the context of faith and worship.
Stephen Swanson teaches as a lecturer of media and critical reading, thinking, and writing courses at Penn State-Erie, The Behrend College. He enjoys word games, his cats, and cooking and knitting with his wife and son. The majority of his “free” time is spent trying to keep up with the dozen or so “must-see” series on television with the help of his DVR. He holds degrees in Communications, Film, and Media and American Culture Studies from Calvin College, Central Michigan University, and Bowling Green State University, respectively. He edited a collection of essays entitled Battleground States: Scholarship in Contemporary America and is working on a book on ethical themes in classic and contemporary film noir.
Travis Griffith begins the story of his walk away from atheism.
The story of how I wound up believing in God borders on the unbelievable.
For 28 years, I hated the God I didn’t even believe in. Now I believe in Him, and in the existence of Christ, though I can’t call myself a Christian because I disagree with some core aspects of the religion.
Relief is a Christian journal that isn’t afraid of non-Christian views, and I am a non-Christian who believes in the power of true Christianity. It’s the perfect combination so I’m devoting this blog series to telling the story of why I was an atheist, and the incredible events that caused me to change my mind.
Even as a child, I was an atheist.
The concept of God never made sense to me, though I did occasionally go to church with my parents or family friends. I remember listening to the pastor (or priest) and feeling like I was going to burst into flames; even as a young child. It’s not that I simply didn’t like church; it’s more like I was absolutely repulsed by the entire idea of God and the Christian story.
One particular church event etched that belief into my mind for good. I was invited by my best friend’s family to an outdoor pizza and movie night on the back lawn of their church. It was a good time, until the pastor came around, individually asking the children to follow him to his office. When it was my turn, I had no idea what to expect and didn’t want to go. I reluctantly followed him down a dark, dingy concrete staircase lit by a single flickering light bulb and turned a corner into his office. He sat me down and simply asked for a quarter (I had a ton of them because the church was selling pop and candy for 25 cents).
“You need to let Christ into your heart,” he said, “and that costs a quarter.”
I remember being entirely confused, and said something like, “So I can either use my quarter to buy laffy taffy or Jesus? I choose the laffy taffy.”
I was only 10, but I knew something was horribly wrong with having to pay to let Christ into my heart. I didn’t even believe in Christ, but knew he was free for anyone who did. Looking back, I realize that it was in that moment that I solidified my belief that organized religion was nothing more than a fear-based way to control humanity, that religion only served to comfort the people weak enough to believe. When I was asked about my belief in God, I’d simply answer, “I believe in me, and I worship my family. I don’t need to believe in anything more than that.”
This was the state of my young belief system when I started seeing spirits in my bedroom at home.
Seeing Spirits
I was torn between the things I’d see with my own eyes, and my rational thought telling me I was making it all up. Magazines would fly off my dresser, floating orbs would hover at my feet in bed, and my inflatable Denver Broncos mascot would swing wildly from the ceiling. It’s when the sounds of footsteps and knocking filled my room at night that I decided to mention my ‘problem’ to my mom.
I think she already knew and was just waiting for me to mention something. She simply asked if I was afraid and if I wanted to move back upstairs. The thought of moving out of the basement had never crossed my mind. I told her that I was happy down there, and if the things I was seeing really were ghosts, they sure weren’t threatening. It’s like they just wanted to let me know they were there, and I was OK with that.
Part of me still didn’t believe in ghosts though, partly because that would mean I’d have to second guess my beliefs about God. The visions increased over the years, though I was still reluctant to fully believe in them. I entered my high school years with an utter hatred of all things religion-related, but with a growing list of unexplained ‘ghostly’ experiences.
It was in high school that I met my future wife. Had she not experienced with me the most frightening night of my life (to that point), I would’ve checked myself into an asylum. Of all the experiences I had as a child, I was never afraid. This night though left me quivering in the fetal position in bed, vowing to never again even consider belief in ghosts… or God.
If I didn’t believe, they couldn’t get to me anymore… right?
Next Post: The Night of Pitchfork Man
Travis Griffith, who recently left behind the corporate marketing world, choosing family and writing in lieu of “a comfortable life” financially, is a former atheist trying to define what leading a spiritual life really means. His children’s book, Your Father Forever, published in 2005 by Illumination Arts Publishing Company, Inc. captures only a fraction of his passion for fatherhood.
Blogger Kristin Noblin offers helpful advice for the holiday season.
Have a Holly, Jolly, Unconventional Christmas
I’ve had a love/hate relationship with Christmas for some time now. Like most kids, I grew up enthralled with the lights, the presents, the intrigue, the magic; yet as I got older, the twinkle of Christmas lights got overshadowed by to-do lists, a frantic schedule in the name of holiday cheer, and TV commercials telling me what my family absolutely must have this holiday season (or clearly I do not love them). Still, I look forward to the baking, the decorations, my favorite Christmas CDs, “Charlie Brown’s Christmas,” and my mom’s strawberry jello salad.
Unfortunately, the gift giving can be rather problematic. I spend a lot of time trying to come up with exactly the right gift for exactly the right person, and every year there seem to be more people to buy for. Between parents and step-parents, siblings and step-siblings, in-laws, nieces and nephews, aunts and uncles, fiancées, grandparents, cousins, the occasional friend, the dog, and oh yes, my husband, I always seem to forget a handful of people when making my initial list, which leads to an inevitable panic when I realize my oversight. Said panic is finally alleviated when, after much stress and scheming, I finally settle on buying the neglected family member yet another Starbucks gift card for the unstated minimum amount deemed acceptable for Christmas gifts.
Once everyone has a gift, I spend several hours wrapping presents and waiting in line at the post office before collapsing into my chair at the Christmas Eve service. Oh right: Jesus. That’s why we do this. Each year, I am left wondering how exactly I managed to spend that much money. I don’t have to look very far—either within the media or within my friends and family—to know I am not alone. We need a new solution.
The Advent Conspiracy
Fortunately, there are alternatives out there, movements that are quickly building momentum. My church in Portland, Imago Dei Community, introduced my husband and me to one such movement, the Advent Conspiracy, during our first year of marriage. The concept is simple: Jesus did not come to earth to promote consumerism and credit card debt. So instead of buying more gifts for your family that they don’t need (and may not even like), be different:
Worship fully.
Spend less.
Give more.
Love all.
In other words, establish a Christmas budget; then, give relationally, give creatively, and give the money you don’t spend away.
Suddenly, I could breathe again.
My husband and I enthusiastically embraced this idea and immediately had a difficult time implementing it since all of our family lived out of state. And we overspent our budget. We vowed to do better the next year, and we did—somewhat. But we found it harder to cut back than we anticipated: we didn’t want to give the people most important to us the impression we don’t care by giving them a popsicle stick birdhouse when they bought us a really nice gift. When I added up the receipts, we were over budget. Again. Fail.
This year, we have resolved once again to take another step forward. We are now in Seattle—closer to both our families and within driving distance of mine—making it easier to give relationally. My husband and I are also in a very different spot financially than we were a year ago, as he is a full-time student and I am unemployed. At the same time, we are away from our church. We are not immersed in a community committed to rethinking Christmas, and we are not surrounded by the Advent Conspiracy events our church put in place (like the do-it-yourself gift day).
Even still, I am tired of giving our consumeristic society a stake in how I celebrate the birth of Christ. We have barely passed Thanksgiving. Already I find the holiday commercials increasingly grating, insincere, and self-serving, particularly as many people across the nation wonder how they will pay their mortgage next month. I am still committed to selecting the right gift for the right person: choosing to unconventionally celebrate Christmas underscores the need to make each gift highly personal and highly suited to the person receiving it. This Christmas, I want to live within my means, expand who I consider to be my neighbor, and realign my values with those of Christ. This focus requires me to let go of what others may or may not think of me and live in a way that worships Jesus and loves those around me.
The Next Step: Gift Giving Alternatives
For those of you who, like me, want and need to do something different for Christmas this year, I encourage you to check out the following ideas and resources:
Consider creating a system (perhaps a variation on drawing names) if you, too, have an extremely long list of folks for which to buy gifts. My siblings and I implemented this idea earlier this fall to limit the gift-giving frenzy.
Instead of buying something new, give something that is reused—something that you already own or something from a thrift store.
Bake, play, talk, and spend time with the people you care about. Sometimes the best gift you can give is consistent time with you.
Provide a much-needed service—like free yard work or childcare.
Refer to the “Unconventional Christmas Shoppers” Facebook group (www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=7525086262&ref=mf) for lists of organizations which sell products that are fair-traded and benefit the poor worldwide.
May we all worship Jesus more fully this Christmas season.
Kristin Mulhern Noblin is a graduate of Wheaton College and has been previously published in Relief and in Rick McKinley's This Beautiful Mess. A veteran middle school English teacher and a worthy Scrabble opponent, she hates tomatoes and will never own a cat. Since recently moving to Seattle, she and her husband have frequent adventures learning to navigate the city. She enjoys good coffee, watching football, and dancing with her husband. When not getting lost in Seattle, she is busy standing for truth, beauty, freedom, and love.
Short story author and playwright Stacy Barton continues her series on writing her first novel.
Last time we talked about how I managed to create my first draft and the delight I felt over actually birthing a piece as long as 23,000 words – a huge accomplishment for a short story author like me! But I believe I also mentioned that while I had created some intriguing characters, a curious setting and some interesting conflicts, my novel wasn’t working.
So I thought what any writer thinks when faced with failure, “What was I thinking!” Of course it wasn’t really failure, it was simply the next step in the process, but try telling that to the writer who’s just bled thousands of words on the page!
At first I couldn’t even figure out what was wrong with my story, let alone how to tackle its problems. I had critiques from others and ideas myself, but they rolled around inside my head like bumper cars at a ten-year-old birthday. So my first draft sat in a digital drawer for months until I had the insight and the courage to begin again.
Focusing the Second Draft
I had a few false starts, but I really began in earnest once I determined that the focus of my second draft needed to be structure. In the first draft, I had told my story in two parts; in Part One my protagonist, Lily, was a ten-year-old girl and in Part Two she was a seventeen-year-old young woman. This might work in a jumbo epic piece, but it was too much for my little novella. I needed to choose ONE story to tell; I had to choose whether to follow the young Lily or the old Lily in my second draft. I chose the 17-year-old Lily because hers was the more active story and because I thought I might still be able to use some of Part One as background or flashback.
So here is what I did. I went through the entire manuscript (young Lily and old) and divided everything up into “scenes.” Some of these “scenes” were really sections with multiple scenes, but if they hung together nicely I left them as one. As I divided the manuscript on my computer, I created a new document for each “scene,” named it and saved it.
Using 3X5 Cards
Once I had cataloged the scenes and sections of my first draft, I took a stack of 3X5 cards and wrote the name of each “scene” on a card. Then I shoved the coffee table aside and spread them out on the floor. I kept all the cards from Part One in a pile to my left and spread Part Two first. Then I began to add in cards from part one, where I could. Sometimes I put a scene in knowing I would have to change the perspective to a 17-year-old, sometimes it served as narrative or memory.
I was amazed at how much of the original draft I was able to use. Having the cards on the floor also allowed me to get a sense of the arc of the story, showed me where the conflict was, where the action rose etc… So I moved the cards around and around until a new structure emerged. Then I numbered the cards, stacked them in order, got up off the floor and went back to my computer.
With numbered scenes and sections in my hand I did a giant cut and paste on the computer to create my second draft. Rough around the edges to be sure, but a place to begin. It had dropped to a mere 12,000 words, there were holes that needed to be filled, entire scenes and sections that had to be added to this new piece – because it was a new piece all over again – but I had the bones of my second draft and I was thrilled.
IN TWO WEEKS: Wrastlin’ the Rewrites
Stacy Barton is a short story author and playwright who is currently slogging through her first novel. Her debut collection of short stories, Surviving Nashville, was released in 2007. Her stories and poetry have appeared in a variety of literary magazines including Potomac Review, Relief, Ruminate and Stonework and her fifth stage play, an adaptation of Dylan Thomas’ A Child’s Christmas in Wales, premiered in Orlando, Florida in 2006. In addition to short stories, plays, and poetry, Stacy is the author of a children's picture book and an animated short film. She is currently a free-lance scriptwriter for the Disney Company. Visit her at www.stacybarton.com.
Short story author and playwright Stacy Barton continues her series on writing her first novel.
Stephen Swanson considers the potential for expanding our definition of worship music and the potential for broadening our view of faith at the same time. 
Travis Griffith begins the story of his walk away from atheism. 
Blogger Kristin Noblin offers helpful advice for the holiday season.
