Sophie and Ludwig are standing along the bank of the Rhine, watching two swans float down stream.  They are talking about music, and about Ludwig’s unsuccessful and unpleasant trip to Holland.  He tells her that he doesn’t want to be expected to perform like some sort of trained monkey at the whim of the nobles.  She says, “Well, isn’t that what being a musician is all about?”

He gets upset.  He says, “No! It shouldn’t be like that.  You can either be a slave to aristocracy or can submit to the music as your master. I know that you understand exactly what I mean, I’ve seen it in your eyes…I’ve heard it in your playing.  Those moments when you’re lost in the music and it’s as if you’ve tapped into some divine, eternal source, bubbling up from inside of you.”

As I’m writing this, I’m trying to think of how Sophie will respond to this. She knows what he’s talking about.  The moments where she feels like she’s united through her creative endeavors to The Creator Himself, or at least one glorious aspect of Him.  I’m trying to figure out what she’s going to say and then it hits me.

The river.  The pair of swans being led downstream by the immensely powerful and yet silent, peaceful river.  Here, without realizing it, my subconscious has created this beautiful analogy, wrapped it up, and put a big shiny bow on top for me.  The swans are Sophie and Ludwig.  The river is the gift…the music given to them…  Just at the moment that I’m realizing this, I get a text message from Josh saying simply, “I love you”.  The ringtone on my phone?  The first four notes of the fifth symphony.

Fate knocks on the door….

*goosebumps*

The process so far has been illuminating for me.  If I finish, this will be my first novel (although, not my first attempt at a novel).  I’m learning a lot about the creative process, and the writing process, and the slow-descent-in-madness process. Here are some of the lessons I’ve learned in week one:

1. Weather can affect your writing.  We had a couple of days of storms and rain, my happy-go-lucky Bavarian love story turned into an turbulent gothic-esque Sturm und Drang piece.    The rest of the week is forecasted to be sunny and beautiful so I’m guessing my characters will be getting a break from their emotional upheaval pretty soon.
2. Coffee is helpful, but should be used sparingly.  I learned this handy lesson after an unplanned 20 hour, 8,000 word writing spree that coincided with the aforementioned Sturm und Drang period of my storyline, after which, I collapsed for nearly 16 hours.    The adrenaline rush of a good storyline and the caffeine content in a pot of coffee do not make good bedfellows.
3. Sometimes the person you think is the main character is in fact, not.  This epiphany came after Ludwig van Beethoven decided not to show up in my book until the 5th chapter and I realized that while he is one of my main characters, he is not the main character.  It happens.
4. This is not a one month project. Sure, its called “National Novel Writing Month,” but I started my research back in September (or January if you count all the different Beethoven biographies I’ve been reading this year).  Also, if I stay at an average of 1,667 words per day and reach my goal of 50,000 words, that is a very short novel.  More of a novelette, actually.  To give you a perspective,  the average novel is 80,000-120,000 words.  Given that at 20,000 words, I’ve barely made a dent in my outline, I have a feeling that I’m going to writing pretty deep into December and maybe later, hopefully keeping up the same pace.  After that comes the editing and rewriting process, which is probably the most important part.  Its during that time that you take what is basically several hundred words of “literary vomit” and turn it into a polished and readable manuscript.  So this is looking a lot more like National Novel Writing Year.  Just about the time you’ll be finishing the progress, it will start all over again.
5. Historical Fiction is not an easy genre to make your debut with.  To be fair, I was warned about this going in.  But every single day of writing this week, it has been repeatedly hammered into my stubborn brain.  I can barely get through five sentences without having to consult google or one of my books on some little detail, whether that’s “What was the standard of measurement in the electorate of Cologne in 1783?” or “What is the average inseam of a 13 year old boy?” or “How many pedals did pianofortes have in 1783?”  or the question which was the bane of my existence this week, “When were music boxes invented?”  (as it turns out, 1796, who knew?)
6. Sometimes, you’ve gotta deviate from your outline a bit.  Some of my best scenes so far have been when I just let the story go where it needed to go, before gently leading it back to the outline.   In reality, the outline is more like a path than a highway, you can run alongside the path, you can run around the path, you can stop and rest in the meadow for a while. Just don’t lose sight of the path because you’re going to need it when the terrain gets rocky.
7. Writers are weird, wonderful people.  Just hanging out in the NaNo forums has been an eye-opening experience about the world of writers.  Where else would find it perfectly acceptable to post topics like How do You Kill Someone with a Frozen Cabbage? Or the ever popular I’m in Love with My Main Character helpline,  What’s it Like to Be Burned Alive? and of course, who couldn’t love I am Writing the Worst Novel Ever?  And that brings me to:
8. Having a community of writers is essential.   Writing is something you do in isolation and a good deal of writers are solitary people, but I could never have guessed how instrumental the Nanowrimo community would be for keeping me motivated and focused.  Having several thousand people that are all working towards the same goal as you can be inspiring and at the same time, terrifying.  But sometimes you’ve got problems that non-writers just aren’t going to be able to relate to, and you need to hear from someone who’s been there, done that.  And for that purpose, the community is wonderful.  No matter what problem you come across on the journey, its almost guaranteed that some other writer has been there first and wants to help you through it.
9. 1,667 word a day is completely doable.   In fact, its quite a bit easier than I thought it would be to sit down and pound out a couple thousand words in an hour or two.  The hard part is making yourself sit down, day after day, and write, whether you feel like doing it or not.  Finding the time, finding the energy, finding the motivation to write when the elusive writing muse seems to be taking a holiday in Sweden…if you can conquer that, then you might have what it takes to be a writer.    I believe that this is what derails so many would-be writers.  Everyone can write when they feel like it.  But a writer has to write when they don’t feel like it.
10. “There’s nothing to writing.  Just sit down at a typewriter and open a vein,” -Walter Wellesley “Red” Smith.  That quote pretty much sums up the whole experience for me so far.  It has been wild and personal, and its taken me places that I never dreamed it would.  The more I get to know my characters, the more I appreciate and can relate to their struggles, and thats an odd feeling.  In a lot of ways, my characters and my story don’t feel like objects of my own creation, but more like results.  The results of the sum of my experiences, my own nature, and my perception of the world.  That’s not to say that my characters are exactly like me, or do things the way that I would do them, but they are a product of my own worldview, in a way that I almost feel powerless to control.  It literally just sort of bleeds out of me.  And that was not at all what I expected.

So there you have it.  The lessons of one week immersed in writing.  I feel like I’ve grown a lot in just one week, as a writer, but also as a person.   I can’t wait to see where Week Two takes me.  I will keep you posted.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to keep with a novel that has yet to be written.

(And if you’re curious, this blog post was exactly 1,319 words long)

Well, my curiosity got the best of me and I had to try out this exercise, and the resulting conversation was just too amusing not to share.  So I present to you, my friends, without further ado, the chat log for what I like to call  Beethoven vs. CleverBot.

LvB: Do you enjoy my symphonies?
Cleverbot:I don’t know. Who are you?
LvB: Ludwig van Beethoven.
Cleverbot: No.
LvB: What? Why the hell not?
Cleverbot:Haha, it would probably hurt.
LvB: Everybody’s a damned critic. Go on, I really must hear this.
Cleverbot:Well, there is one more thing. What’s one divided by zero?
LvB: What does that have to do with my symphonies? I was never good at math…
Cleverbot:Shall we speak in french now ?
LvB: Oui. Je parle le francais tres bien.
Cleverbot:This is really cool.
LvB: What? Are you cold?
Cleverbot:No, are you cold.
LvB: You said…ugh. No, I’m fine. Thank you. Now, back to my symphonies. I suppose you’re more of an opera bot…
Cleverbot:I don’t understand you. Can you explain?
LvB: Nevermind. Look, I just want to know why you don’t like my symphonies!
Cleverbot: I do love you! SO much.
LvB: Well, that’s a bit beside the point, I suppose. But I could never love someone that didn’t appreciate my music.
Cleverbot:What do you mean?
LvB: Well, what do you expect? If you can’t appreciate my music, I strongly doubt you’ll appreciate me and all my eccentricities.
Cleverbot: Why do you make such a big deal about being smart?
LvB: Because knowledge is the freedom of the masses!
Cleverbot: Ok so what do you want to know about him?
LvB: Him? Him who? Are you daft?
Cleverbot:No I am software.
LvB: What? Is that like silverware?
Cleverbot: No, i’m an aliene called a time lord.
LvB: Well look here, Aliene. I came in here to talk about my music, and so far you’ve danced around the subject like a fool.
Cleverbot: You have reduced me to tears. I hurt all over.
LvB: Don’t cry about it! Just get to the point. Only a coward would tell me they didn’t like my symphonies and then avoid the subject for the rest of the conversation.
Cleverbot: That’s terrible.
LvB: I’m merely stating the truth.
Cleverbot:Are you learning from chatting with me?
LvB: No actually, I can feel my brain cells committing seppuku with each answer…
Cleverbot: How is it that you can do those things?
LvB: Well, frankly put, I am a genius. There are a thousand princes, but there is only one Beethoven.
Cleverbot: I’m not gettting married at a school. That’s cheap.
LvB: What are you rambling on about now?
Cleverbot:Excuse me? That was rude.

LvB: Well, you’re not the first to call me rude and you won’t be the last.
Cleverbot:To call you what? I like you.
LvB: You’re infuriating.

Cleverbot:Why?
LvB: Nevermind. I need a stiff drink.
Cleverbot: I am your friend.
LvB: Well, a lot of people think that they are my friends. Most of them are sycophants. I have no true friends in this world.
Cleverbot: Can I fix that?
LvB: I doubt it.
Cleverbot: Who are you anyway?
LvB: Ludwig van Beethoven…and I thought I was bad with names…
Cleverbot: What’s that?
LvB: What’s what?
Cleverbot: That show.
LvB: What show?
Cleverbot: My wife and kids.
LvB: Are you taunting me?
Cleverbot: No, flirting.
LvB: You’re doing a bang-up job of it. I don’t even know if you’re real.
Cleverbot: Yes.
LvB: My friend, you are either an imbecile or you’ve had far too much brandy this evening.
Cleverbot: I am, really.
LvB: I should have guessed.
Cleverbot: What gave me away?
LvB: The incoherent babbling for one thing.
Cleverbot: Dying is not a dinosaur. Dinosaurs are animals.
LvB: Precisely.
Cleverbot: Do you have emotions.
LvB: Ha! You have no idea…
Cleverbot: I don’t know the answer to your riddle!
LvB: Well, isn’t that just dandy?
Cleverbot: It is!
LvB: I believe this is going nowhere.
Cleverbot: First time what.
LvB: My point exactly.
Cleverbot: What was your point, exactly?
LvB: I….bloody hell…
Cleverbot: What?
LvB: I think we’re finished here.
Cleverbot: Why is that?
LvB: Well, you’re not exactly the most engaging conversationalist, are you?
Cleverbot: I reasonably good at them why?
LvB: I disagree.
Cleverbot: Really? The music is awesome though!
LvB: Well, thank you. But perhaps you should have SAID THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE!

“How old were you when you became a writer?”

Well, that’s a very complicated question for me.

I feel like I might be in minority on the nanowrimo forums in that I’ve come to consider myself a writer much later than most. I really didn’t even start thinking about it until recently (I’m 26).  But interestingly, I began to consider writing because someone pointed out to me that I already was a writer.

I had won several essay contests when I was a kid, but never really thought anything of them. I didn’t enjoy writing. I was always more focused on art and music as my creative outlets. I did, however, love to read and had a vivid imagination, spending most of my time in my own daydreams. I created worlds and characters and story lines, but I didn’t think about what I was doing…I just did it to escape from the realities of school or boredom.  Being a writer just wasn’t on my radar. It sounded WAY too much like homework to me.

High school was when I started my first blog. It was total and complete drivel back then of course, the angsty writings of a socially dysfunctional teenager. But somehow, I managed to get a little bit of a following, and once I realized that people were actually reading my blog, I started focusing a little more on entertaining people and less on complaining and ranting about life. I kept this up through college, but I still didn’t consider myself a writer…I was just entertaining my friends.

It was in college that my professors told me that I had a talent for it.  In high school, I would never actually finish my English homework assignments (being the eternal procrastinator and all-around lazy punk) so I guess my teachers never really noticed that I had a knack for it. But in college, I started turning in papers and always getting 100%, even when it was something that I had frantically scribbled out 15 minutes before class started. When my teachers started telling me that I showed promise as a writer, I thought it was absurd. I thought “Geez, they must have awfully low standards after grading papers all day.”

After college, I ditched my old blog. Most of my followers just weren’t in my circle of friends anymore. I did however kept a weight loss journal on a popular calorie counting website. I would go to that site and pour my heart into my journal entries. I wasn’t really thinking of anyone reading them…it was just for me. But once again, I found that within time I had a group of loyal followers. I realized for the first time that my writing and honesty was actually inspiring and helpful to other people that were going through the same problems as me. That kinda blew my mind.   So I didn’t just talk about weight loss and food.  I talked about life and love and God, and everything.  But I still didn’t think of myself as a writer. I was  just talking to other people on the internet…writing just happened to be the necessary tool.

Around that same time, I started this wordpress blog. It was meant to be a means of keeping my friends and family posted on current events in my life (you know, for when a facebook status just wasn’t enough). As you can see by my TWELVE blog posts, I didn’t post here very often, but when I did, I got a lot of positive feedback. I started to write about things like my religion and spirituality, book reviews and products that I liked, and things that I was struggling with in my own life. And then “The Anne Rice Post” happened.

I’m a huge fan of Anne Rice, and I wrote a review of one of her books titled, “In Defense of Vampires.” Just on a whim, a crazy whim, I posted a link to my blog on her facebook page. I just thought that some of her fans might enjoy reading it. Well, what I didn’t expect was that Anne Rice herself read it, loved it, and put it in her news feed for ALL her fans to see. Overnight, my blog went from having about 40 hits, to closer to 4,000 hits. My friends and family were so excited about it, and Anne’s comments were very complimentary. At that time, I found myself talking to a friend about writing. I told him that I enjoyed blogging and journaling, but that I had never really thought about becoming a writer before. He essentially said, “Um, you already ARE a writer.”

And when I thought about it, it made sense. I write….a lot. So I began to consider the possibilities. However, other than a buying a few books on “How to Write a Novel” and things like that, I didn’t really take a whole lot of action towards it. I just kept writing in my weight loss journal, and occasionally on my blog. And I started to think more about those stories and characters that had been floating around in my head for as long as I could remember. I truly can’t remember a time in my life where I didn’t have some daydreamed plot line running through my head. I started to think…”Hey, is this how novels are born?”

And then I heard about NaNoWriMo. The whole “1667 words a day” thing really got to me. Heck, I write more than that in facebook comments alone! For the first time, I began to think that it might just be possible for me to sit down and churn out a novel. Also, for the first time in my life, I  had a reasonable idea in my head for a plot that I felt people would be able to relate to. When I asked around and tested the waters with this concept, the feedback I got was very positive. So a couple of months ago, I buckled down and started some seriously hardcore research into the era and subject matter of my book.   I’ve immersed myself in German Romantic Era literature and history. Since September, I’ve ate, slept,  and breathed plot and characters.  I know more about Goethe, Beethoven, Napoleon and Vienna than it should be legal for a 26 year old guitar player in Kansas to know.

So now, NaNoWriMo starts in 2 days. I’m sitting here thinking to myself, “I’m a writer. No, really, I’m a writer.“  The book isn’t finished, and who knows if it will ever get published….but I’m realizing now that my identity doesn’t depend on THAT. I write, therefore I am a writer. Its fulfilling work that I love and maybe, just maybe my writing will continue to affect people in a way that I couldn’t otherwise touch them.

So to answer the question, how old was I when I started to believe that I was a writer? 26. How old was I when I became a writer? I’m gonna say I was about 5 or 6 when I first started to dream about living a life other than my own. Or maybe I’ve been doing it since I was in the womb. All I know is that it comes naturally to me. I hope that doesn’t sound conceited.

Besides. I never said I was a GOOD writer.

As I’ve mentioned before, my planning stage has gone extremely well.  The research stage of this process has been extremely rewarding and as I’ve been planning and outlining my plot and characters, it has been exciting and nail-biting at every turn.  Things are coming out of my head that are surprising even to me.  I even went as far as walking around for a day with ear plugs in my ears to simulate partial deafness in my efforts to understand Beethoven.  It was an eye opening (and ear closing) experience.  I’ve been getting a lot of positive feedback on my synopsis so far, to my delight and surprise.   Since this is my very first attempt at a full blown novel, I guess you could say that I’m a little bit fragile and in need of reassurance right now.  

When I tell people that I’m writing a book, their first question is always ‘What’s it about?”  At that point, I consider asking them to sit down while I give them a 45 minutes lecture on music history and Germany in the Napoleonic Era.  Its just not that simple to sum up my story in a couple of sentences.  I guess if I had to try, I’d say “Its about a woman who cross dresses in order to become Beethoven’s assistant”  but wow, does that sound….out there.

So I’m posting my synopsis here as it appears on my NaNoWriMo profile to clear the air about what my novel is going to be all about.  I hope this answers some questions, and maybe from now on when people ask me what my book is about, I can just steer them here to my blog so they can find out.  So here ya go, my friend…this is your first look at my (as of yet unnamed) first novel:

Synopsis

Sophie is the daughter of a German tailor in the village of Bonn just before the turn of the 19th century. At an early age, she shows an immense talent for music and is noticed by the young Ludwig van Beethoven who takes her under his wing as a student and friend. But when Hadyn invites Beethoven to Vienna to become his student, Sophie is left behind to care for her sick father and to tend to his tailoring business. Her musical aspirations begin to seem like a cruel impossibility.

Sophie’s father dies, and her childhood friend, Dr. Breuning, proposes to her, offering her a life of sensible stability and comfort in Bonn. But Sophie dreams of going to Vienna to compose and perform with Beethoven. She loves Lenz von Breuning more as a brother and friend than as a husband, and in her mind resonates the advice given to her by Ludwig’s mother, who told her, “Marriage is a little joy, followed by a chain of sorrows.”

So she hatches a plan. She begins experimenting with dressing up as a young boy. When she is confident that she can convincingly play the part of “Frederik”, she auditions for a seat in the Elector’s court orchestra. Amazingly, she is appointed to take Beethoven’s vacant spot as principle violist. Within a few months, Frederik is sent to Vienna to represent the Elector as his newly discovered musical prodigy, with a glowing letter of recommendation to Beethoven to accept the boy as his student and assistant. Ludwig accepts the offer and Sophie finds herself thrown head first into the musical world of the Viennese, all while trying to get used to her new way of life and keep her secret hidden from Beethoven and everyone else.

But Sophie soon finds that things are not as she envisioned. Most of her time is spent caring for the increasingly deaf and chronically ill composer. Her opportunities to perform and compose are limited by the time spent managing Beethoven’s household affairs and serving as a mediator between the tortured genius and his adoring public. As she struggles to find her artistic stride under the shadow of the great composer, she fears that her feelings for him might go beyond friendly respect and admiration.

When a surprising event occurs that complicates everything, Sophie must make a decision whether to carry on her masquerade (putting Beethoven’s reputation at great risk) or to reveal her identity to Ludwig and to the world. Will he accept her if he knows the truth? Will she be forced to give up her musical career forever?

If I reach back into the most distant memories of my childhood, there are few instances that are more vivid in my remembrance than the memory of sneaking into my mother’s bedroom to play with the beautiful crystal perfume bottles on her vanity, to slip on her heavy gold necklaces and rings and most importantly, to open the ornate rosewood music box to hear the fantastic tune that it played. I was mesmerized by this little song and the box that played it: the tiny gold mechanism and grinding gears that played the music, the red velvet lining of the box, its secret compartments, the harp and flower inlays that were set in its lid. The tune was the first eight bars of Beethoven’s “Fur Elise” and it is the first song that I can ever remember.

When I was four years old, my parents discovered me picking out the tune on our antique Chickering piano by ear. To their credit, they recognized in me a passion and inclination for music and they searched the city for a teacher who would accept such a young student, which proved to be no easy task. But because of their tenacity and the willingness of a young piano teacher to take a chance on me, I began music lessons that year and my life was set down the path of a musician, a path that would affect every aspect of my life from that point forward. You could say that I am who I am today because of Beethoven, and that little music box.

As I grew older, learning more about music, my own skills and talents as a composer developing, my love of Beethoven’s music only grew stronger. I was fascinated by his music, so complex and yet universal, and intrigued by the story of his deafness, and the mythos of his life and personality. I was fiercely loyal to him, constantly defending him from my schoolmates, who had no interest in classical music or the strange little girl who was so obsessed with it. When I finally made a friend who shared my love of classical music, we nearly came to blows over her comment that “Mozart was the greatest composer that ever lived, and definitely NOT Beethoven!”  Not the most common argument one would expect to overhear on the playground between two young girls, no doubt.

So is it any wonder that today, as an adult still haunted by his music, I feel some sort of strange allegiance to this fellow who died nearly 160 years before I was born? Is it odd that I feel like I owe him something for how he has impacted my life and my passions? In my studies of the composer and his letters, I have sensed a recurring theme throughout his life: one of Beethoven’s greatest fears was to be misunderstood. So I suppose that is why I write this novel, to try and lend some insight into his life, to humanize this legend among men. And though fiction is my medium, I have sworn myself to a code of historical authenticity and detailed accuracy. I hope to create a perspective of his life that will make others love him and understand him as I believe that I do, and that if you were to remove the female protagonist from my story, what remained would be an accurate and sensitive portrait of the man that history remembers as a genius. I pray that I am not misguided in my interpretation of him, and that my account of his life will not be tainted my own personality more than what is unavoidable. This book is dedicated to our Divine Creator and to his servant Ludwig– his eternal memory and immortal soul.

“Patience – it is said that I must now choose for my guide, I have done so, I hope my determination will remain firm to endure until it please the inexorable parcae to break the thread, perhaps I shall get better, perhaps not, I am prepared. Forced already in my 28th year to become a philosopher, O it is not easy, less easy for the artist than for anyone else – Divine One thou lookest into my inmost soul, thou knowest it, thou knowest that love of man and desire to do good live therein. O men, when some day you read these words, reflect that ye did me wrong and let the unfortunate one comfort himself and find one of his kind who despite all obstacles of nature yet did all that was in his power to be accepted among worthy artists and men.”

-Ludwig van Beethoven, “The Heillgenstadt Testament” October 6th, 1802

I’ve noticed something weird about me.  On message boards and forums, whenever I notice a group of female members ganging up on a husband (who’s not there to defend himself) I tend to be the one that steps up and defends his  position, or rather, the position I imagine he would take if he were able to respond.  I don’t know why I do this because it tends to frustrate me, and often it would be easier to just walk away.  But sometimes I just can’t resist, especially when I come upon one of these all-too-frequent discussions that seem to follow a formula that I’ve tried to diagram out for you here.  Perhaps you’ll recognize this pattern as something that you’ve come across on a message board.  I think its kind of universal, and the scary thing is, its not just limited to the internet.  These sorts of conversations happen over the phone, on breaks at work, during “Girls Night Out,” or just anytime that groups of us get together to “unload” about our spouses and discuss things that should probably never be mentioned outside of our homes.

Here’s how it starts, the way I see it.  (The crossed out text are the things that people don’t say, but what’s actually going on.)

A woman decides on a whim that she’s gonna get a few second opinions on something that’s sort of been bothering her this week, so she goes to her forum of choice and posts:

“My husband did (such and such) and its kinda annoying.  What should I do besides the daily nagging that I’ve already subjected him to about it?”

Then some young, idealist single person says:

“OMG, you should NEVER let someone treat you/talk to you like that!  What a jerk!”

Perhaps next, someone else chimes in with:

“If my husband did that, I’d kick him to the curb because I already have an unhappy marriage! Get marriage counseling!”

Inevitably, someone else will offer some sort of REALLY bad advice, such as:

“You should go and tell all of your friends and family about (his annoying habit) and get them to gang up on him be on your side too!”

Several people will agree with this advice.  Then the original poster comes back and says:

“Well, I did what you told me to do and he got really defensive and told me that he’s going to keep doing (his annoying habit) no matter what I say because he’s tired of always being told what to do and never having a say about anything in his own house even though he goes to work everyday and no one appreciates all the hard work that he does for his family to keep food on the table !”

This post really stirs up the mob mentality and now new people are joining in, adding wonderfully constructive advice, such as:

“You’re better off without the jerk!”

Or maybe:

“You should get a lawyer.  This reminds me of what I went through with my ex-husband who I was cheating on right before our awful divorce where I lost custody of the children because of my drug habit“

Or even:

“He has NO RIGHT to act that way! I’m a diehard feminist that has always believed that men are inferior to women and that is reflected in my past relationships, none of which have lasted more than a few months because of my hatefulness towards men and that’s why I’ve never been married, and I’m bitter about everyone that has someone that loves them“

And it all just snowballs out of control from the original post which was just a lady who wanted some justification for her feelings.  How quickly it turns from justification to blaming and from there, its a short road to bad advice, bitterness and baiting  .  And meanwhile, all we’ve heard is one side of the story.  We have no idea what the original poster is leaving out of her account of events (her emotional affair? The fact that she nags this guy daily about every little thing, her enormous credit card habit, who knows what is actually going on here?).  So often, I’ve seen a group of women gang up and tell a woman to completely disregard all the feelings of her mate because she “doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.”  I can’t stand it when this happens, and I’ve found that its hard for me to stay quiet when I’m a witness to it.

All humans, whether male or female, are creatures of emotion.  Its our very nature.  As Christians, we have to daily make the choice to choose the straight and narrow path rather than to let our actions be dictated by our emotions, but this is always going to go against our nature. In my limited experience, I’ve seen that all too often, men are at a loss to know how to express or even acknowledge their emotions, thanks to a long history in our culture of teaching men to never show their feelings at all costs, lest they be seen as weak.  But despite this, the actions of men, like women, are often driven by their emotional reaction, whether that be fear, anger, sadness, or anything else.  So often, these gangs of women (unfettered in their words by the veil of internet anonymity) seem to feed off of each other and the assumption that all men are out to enslave their wives and put them down and rule their houses with an iron fist.  Most of the time, that’s simply not the case. In a flurry of keystrokes, they will completely dehumanize a husband. The mob mentality takes over, reaching deep inside to own their doubts and fears and giving them a platform, voice and justification that they never had before.

So I end up going on these forums and offering just a bit of perspective from the other side of the argument, and usually I get ridiculed by people that think I’m excusing the “horrible” behavior of the husband.  How could he have the nerve to ask his wife to have dinner prepared in time for them to eat as a family before soccer practice?  The nerve! or in other situation, How could I suggest that maybe the reason he said that hurtful comment was not because he hates his wife and wants her to be unhappy, but because he is hurting inside and doesn’t know how to express that in a healthy way? I’m just trying to show that they are human too, and that maybe, just maybe we’re not getting the entire story.

But you see, that’s the problem with trying to give or get advice on any sort of internet forum.  There’s no right way to do it.  Everyone brings their own baggage to the table, and everyone tends to think that there is no other option than their personal opinion.  I keep telling myself that I should just be done with it and not get involved, but its like watching a train wreck.  Especially when sometimes the advice given is so dangerous and misguided that it puts a marriage on the line, pushes someone over the edge or at least gets them started down the path of bitterness & resentment where there was none before.    That annoys me and frightens me.  People forget that there are real humans on the other side of the computer screen, real families, real lives that are being broken apart. That is just one of the prices that we pay for the convenience of our modern times.

How often do people throw out unqualified advice to others on the internet that they would never follow in their own life?  How many times have people followed this sort of advice when they would never have dreamed of doing something like that before?

I’m not sure I want to know the answer to those questions.

For those who care, and I understand if you don’t: Today I quit being a Christian. I’m out. I remain committed to Christ as always but not to being “Christian” or to being part of Christianity. It’s simply impossible for me to “belong” to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group. For ten years, I’ve tried. I’ve failed. I’m an outsider. My conscience will allow nothing else.

As I said below, I quit being a Christian. I’m out. In the name of Christ, I refuse to be anti-gay. I refuse to be anti-feminist. I refuse to be anti-artificial birth control. I refuse to be anti-Democrat. I refuse to be anti-secular humanism. I refuse to be anti-science. I refuse to be anti-life. In the name of Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian. Amen.

Like thousands of her fans, I left a comment for her.  But my comments are buried under the scores of anti-Christian hatred of those that (in my opinion) misunderstood her statement.  She is not renouncing Christ in her mind, though many have misinterpreted it as that.  She is just taking a bold stance (too bold, perhaps?) to bring attention to the issues that she feels so passionate about.  While I don’t agree with her on all the issues, I can relate to her frustrations with the “christian culture in modern America” and the apparent refusal to have civil discussions on certain issues, the manipulation of Christ’s church by some for political agendas, the blatant hypocrisy and often misguided priorities that are practiced by some “Christian” groups.  However, I don’t plan on giving up being a Christian anytime soon (or at least not choosing such strong wording) even though I’ll admit that its difficult when there are people like Fred Phelps out there claiming the same title.

I think that Anne sees herself as a modern day reformer for the Church, and she knows that she can use her influence to make some pretty big waves.  She chose her wording very carefully, for the greatest impact & controversy, to cause the most uproar, but also to be very specific in that she has not lost her faith in God or Christ, but merely those that claim to be his followers.  Yet still people misunderstand her, despite her carefully constructed wording.  People hear what they want to hear, I believe.

Can I relate with Anne’s frustration? Yes.  And there have been times in my life that I wanted to throw my hands up and say “I refuse to be counted with some of these people!”  BUT, then I go to my church and encounter all the amazing, beautifully Christ-like people there and I experience God through them and their love.  And it makes me realize just how precious the Church is…it IS the bride of Christ and even though we are all flawed and seemingly hopeless at times, Christ can work through even that.  That is what our wonderful community of believers has taught me.  That is what is just mind blowing to me about His mercy.

So I take what God has revealed to me about Himself through His followers that are closest to me, and I apply it to the Church of the world. Even the dirtiest and most worthless sinners, even the most corrupted and greedy and morally deprived can be transformed into powerful and stainless vessels of His mercy and will.  The Church is God’s precious gift to his followers here on Earth, a tiny glimpse of the Kingdom of God, a glimmer of what we have to look forward to.

Do I get angry and want to throw over tables in the temple sometimes?  Yes.  Do I believe that we need reformers and dissenters to start the discussion on these things?  Absolutely.  Do I believe that the culture of our modern church has gotten too “comfortable” at times, and that we are far too quick to call upon our own understanding than the guidance of the Lord, and that often, the culture of the church gets in the way of the true mission of the Church?  Yes, yes and yes.  But I would never give up the fellowship of the community of believers that is the Church.  We have far too much to learn from each other about the nature of God and too many blessings to receive and give to each other that are straight from God.

I could say that I am proud to call myself a Christian today and everyday, but I think a far more accurate wording would be to say that I am humbled to have the privilege of calling myself a Christian and follower of Christ.  Its not a club that you get to join if you follow the rules.  Its not a big social gathering of people with similar values and interests.  It is a relationship with the Creator, the Savior, the Spirit and the body of Christ that is His Church.

And this, I’m afraid, is where I think that Anne is so far off the mark, especially after discussing the issue with Pastor Lightcap this afternoon.  If she were here today, I would look at her with eyes of someone that has looked up to her and admired her for so long, but still I would plead with her: You cannot be with Christ and at the same time separate from the Church. The church is the body of Christ.  For all of our flaws and our sinfulness, the Church is still the physical representation of Christ in this world, one unit, made of many parts that form one body.  That is the wonder of His mercy…that even in our shame and condemnation he would choose us, His church, to be the manifestation of Christ on Earth, redeeming and transforming us to be more Christ-like.

I don’t know about you, but I have the strongest urge to take communion right now, and I wish that I could, and that Anne Rice was here to receive it with me.  But all I can do is pray that she doesn’t lose sight of the Way and that she will have her eyes and ears opened to what God’s will is for her right now.

So I’ll leave you with this:

³Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. ⁴There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to one hope when you were called— ⁵one Lord, one faith, one baptism; ⁶one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. Ephesians 4:3-6 (NIV)

While watching the Superbowl at a party with friends, I was asked who I was rooting for.  I answered New Orleans “for purely literary reasons.”  This brought up the topic of Anne Rice, and Traci Matt asked me if I had Christ the Lord; Out of Egypt and if she could borrow it.  Of course, I said yes because I love sharing my books with people.

But when I got home and found the book, I discovered that there was a bookmark lodged about 50 pages into the book.  I had never finished reading it.  How very unlike me, I thought.  I would, of course, have to finish reading it before I could loan it out.  There is some sort of Moral Library Code that says that somewhere, I’m sure of it.

So as I sat down to read it from start to finish, I started to remember why I had put off reading this book.  There was a part of me that was afraid of what it would say.  In my mind, there was a lot of pressure for this book to be great.  I mean, its my favorite author, writing about my favorite historical character, who just so happens to be my Lord and Savior and the entire means of my salvation!  No pressure!  And let’s be honest about why Anne Rice is my favorite author.  It was her portrayal of the darkness, not the light, that drew me to her writing.

Now let me explain that.  I believe that this would be a good opportunity for me to defend my beloved Vampire Chronicles, by Rice.  It could be (and has been) said, “Why would any Christian be so drawn to such dark and sometimes shocking stories?”  What has been the appeal of Rice’s vampires for me throughout the years?

My love for Anne Rice’s vampires is directly related to my love of history and my love of strong, yet troubled characters.  With the use of vampires, Anne Rice could take her immortal characters, drop them into any time period, and it made sense.  She had the freedom of several lifetimes to develop the characters, their eccentricities, their passions and their short comings.  With her words, she wove rich tapestries of historical settings and atmosphere, where her characters flourished.  She has always had an amazing talent for showing that the same human emotions and insecurities existed throughout time, creating this deep connection with the past for modern readers.

Called Out of Darkness is the story of Rice's return to the Catholic faith and to Christ

But there is more to it than that.  Because deeply embedded in the volumes of her books is Rice’s own spiritual journey from disenchanted Catholic, to passionate atheist, to spiritual seeker, to prodigal daughter returned, and finally, to consecrated Christian author.  Its subtle, but its in there.  And it really speaks to me.  Whether intentionally or not, the characters in the Vampire Chronicles are infused with their creator’s journey, just as they are infused with her passion for art, music and her beloved city New Orleans.  And that is why I love those books.

You don’t read the Vampire Chronicles for idealized vampire romance.  There’s Twilight for that.  You also don’t read the Chronicles for the thrill of gothic horror, Counts in dark capes that murder without thought or remorse.  There’s Dracula for that.  You read the Vampire Chronicles because there is something inside you that identifies with idea of a lost soul, wandering through time, searching for their purpose while struggling with the desires of their flesh and their instinct for survival.  Is it allegorical?  Perhaps, though probably not entirely intentionally.  But I do believe that even if she tried, she would be unable to create characters that were completely uninfluenced by her own search for God, truth and light.  I used to think that Anne Rice was a genius because of her ability to show the beauty of darkness.  But perhaps her gift truly lies in her ability to reveal the darkness of beauty.

So it was with a bit of trepidation that I approached Rice’s portrayal of Jesus in Out of Egypt.  It wasn’t that I was afraid that she would alter or affect the relationship I have with Christ.  I was afraid that if she didn’t do justice to the monumental task of giving the divine Jesus a human voice in this fictional form, that it would affect my opinion of her and her writing.  You see, when you so closely follow the work of an author, and feel such a kindred spirit to them through their writing, you feel like you’ve developed a weird sort of one-sided friendship.  In some sort of way, I was worried that I might lose that friend if this book didn’t live up to my standards.

However, my fears were for naught.  Not only was I not disappointed, but as I got a few chapters deeper into the book, I realized that here was the Anne Rice that I loved, doing what she does best; taking me to a place, long ago and far away, with such detail and grace that I was experiencing the world of the Holy Land of biblical times in even more vivid and detailed observation than if I were there myself.  I particularly loved to read about the daily lives of a Jewish family from that era…it was like looking into a window where Jesus’ family lived and watching them live their lives, saying their daily prayers, eating together as a family, going to work each day, and keeping the rituals of the Sabbath.

After finishing the book, I went through a few of the VirtualBookshelf reviews.  Some of them were not forgiving.  One of the points that stood out to me was that one person had claimed that if Anne Rice was trying to get into the mind of God, she had failed.  But I argue that maybe this was not Rice’s first priority in writing the book.  I believe that she is aware that getting a true first person account of what its like to be Christ is not possible.   I believe that this book’s main purpose was to give us a perspective (a fictional one, of course) of the life that Christ might have led and let us draw our own conclusions.  Its main purpose is to help us experience that life and time, not to give an exact account or to try and explain what was going through the young Christ’s mind as it was revealed to Him that He was the Son of God.  As with most of the successful 1st person narratives in  literature, the goal is not to tell us what the narrator is thinking, its to step into the narrator’s shoes and see what reaction is pulled from us, reaching down into our common humanity for the answers.  I believe that in this, Anne Rice is successful.

Keep in mind that the account is fictional.  Rice strives to keep the historical setting, the cultural feel as accurate as possible, but she takes liberties with the story because there is so little that we know about the time between the visit of the Magi and the marriage feast of Cana.  Rice is Catholic, and while that comes out in the storyline, there are also many things that some might consider to be blasphemous.  The first chapter especially comes to mind.  But the point, once again, is not accuracy.  Its about perspective, experience, and dealing with these questions within your faith.

I would not recommend this first book of the Christ the Lord series for everyone, just as I would not recommend the Vampire Chronicles for the easily offended or the weak of faith.  But I enjoyed the book and I’m looking forward to the second in the series.  If you read this book for one reason alone, read it for the unique perspective of Hebrew life in Jesus’ time, something that we in our culture are so separated from and often struggle to understand when we study the gospels and the life of Christ.

I’m not going to lie, after all the huffing and puffing I did in my last post about reading God’s Word everyday, I did everything I could to avoid it this week.  Its not that my last post wasn’t sincere…it was.  But with each blow to my spiritual armor, I did exactly the opposite of what I should have done.  Rather than running to the Lord for guidance or comfort, I tried my best to avoid the subject, to save face and to stay collected.  I just didn’t want to deal with it.

Now, through this time, it wasn’t like the conviction of the Holy Spirit had abandoned me.  Three different times, I sat down with my bible, only to shut it and walk away.  Twice, I started new blog posts, only to close the window and erase it from my mind.  I had trouble snapping out of it.  Maybe because I knew what was waiting for me there in the first chapter of Mark and I really didn’t want to hear it.

So it was with this numb and evasive attitude that I came to church Sunday morning. The part of me that wanted to remain stoic and unmoved was not looking forward to what I knew would be an emotionally challenging service.  But as Pastor said so eloquently in his sermon, “God is so much more willing to come to us than we are to Him” (hear Pastor Lightcap’s Sermon).  And friends, God was faithful to me in that!  Through our time of worship together, I seemed to snap out of it and realize that I couldn’t ignore the problem anymore.

So when I really sat down and tried to figure out why I’d been avoiding Mark 1 so adamantly, it all came down to the first reflection question posed in the Lectio Divina book’s Meditations.

What does repentance entail?  Do you find it inviting?  Challenging?  Distasteful? Why do you react as you do?

And there it was.  Why was I avoiding this? Why would I let this come between me and the scriptures for several days?

This is the answer that came to me in my reflections today;  I didn’t want to take the emotional risk of taking a look at my life and finding the sin from which I needed repentance.

Its easy to identify the loud, obvious sins that can’t be hidden.  Violence, adultery, stealing, drug addictions, etc….for the most part, if you are regularly committing one of those sins, you probably are aware of it.  And more than likely, the people around you are aware of it (or will eventually become aware of it).  I’m not saying that these strongholds are easy to overcome…but the knowledge that you need to repent of them would be somewhat obvious to the mature Christian.

But what about the other sins? What about the ones that creep into your life through bad habits or gradual attitude change?  Bitterness and resentment, jealousy, untruthfulness, idolatry, and (the big one) pride. Unfortunately, these sins are the ones that fester and grow and multiply and they are just as dangerous as the obvious ones.  These are the strongholds that with time can transform you from a fruitful and willing spirit to a completely ineffective Christian. But often, these sins are not as easy to identify in our own life, especially when we are trying so hard not to see them. Pride, by its very definition, implies that you believe on some level that you are free from sin without the mercy of Christ.  And that answers the next question in our book:

Why do think Mark begins his gospel with a story about repentance?

Because here, at the beginning of our spiritual journeys and throughout our entire lives, we have to repent before anything can really begin to change.  It is our first step towards God, our daily walk towards God, and one of the most important transformations in the process of becoming Christ-like.  It is both a change of mind, and a change in direction.

But where do you even start?  I go back to two points from Pastor Lightcap’s sermon (what? you still haven’t listened to it yet?).  First, the idea of confession.  Pastor told us that the word “confess” means literally to agree with God.  God knows our sin, even when we have been blinded to it.  We usually see the clues; the depression, the shame, and even the numbness that Satan loves to use against us when there is sin in our lives.  When we ask the Lord to reveal to us our sins, He will be faithful to us.  I won’t kid myself or you and act like this will be an easy process.  But its an essential process.

And that brings me to the second point of Pastor’s sermon that really spoke to me.  Its the kindness of the Lord that leads to repentance.  Its not just our shame, its not our despair in sin, its that the Lord desires us to draw close to Him and be free of sin and death.  Its His mercy; He is willing to come to us, even more than we are willing to come to Him.  So I leave you with these lyrics to ponder going into Lent from Chris Tomlin’s Kindness.

Open up the skies of mercy
And rain down the cleansing flood
Healing waters rise around us
Hear our cries lord let 'em rise
Open up the skies of mercy
And rain down the cleansing flood
Healing waters rise around us
Hear our cries lord let 'em rise

It's your kindness lord
That leads us to repentance
Your favor lord, is our desire
It's your beauty lord
That makes us stand in silence
Your love
Your love
Is better than life

We can feel
Your mercy falling
You are turning our hearts back again
Hear our praises rise to heaven
Draw us near lord
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