Rachel Starr Thomson

“What does this verse mean to you?”

The question is asked intensely by many a Bible study leader, and it kicks off many a highly personal discussion about Scripture. It’s a good question to ask, forcing us to go beyond objective truth and wrestle with application and personal response to God. But it’s the wrong question with which to start.

As a teen, I read the Bible devotionally with a focus on hearing what it had to say “to me.” Passage in Isaiah given to Israel about their captivity in Babylon? A personal message to me about the hard time I was having in a certain relationship. Parable about the Pharisees in Jesus’ day? A personal message to me about hypocrisy. Theological passage on the atonement of Christ’s blood? A personal message to me about … well, you get the idea. I read the Bible as a letter from God to me. The parts that didn’t make sense as a letter from God to me mostly got ignored or allegorized.

Without an objective handle on scriptural truth, we’re going to have a hard time ever understanding or applying it correctly. Paul knew we had to approach truth from both angles: He wrote, “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be competent, equipped for every good work” (2 Timothy 3:16–17, ESV).

In my early 20s, I was forced to confront my own ignorance and lack of depth in doctrines and stories I’d been reading my whole life – ignorance which made a serious difference to my daily life. I started studying my Bible in a very different way, looking for objective truth first and determined to learn what the Bible really says about, well, everything. It’s become an enriching, fascinating and often frustrating journey – one that’s well worth every minute, every step and every wrong turn that eventually has to be righted.

Read the whole thing here: http://www.boundless.org/2005/articles/a0002398.cfm

P.S. This post notwithstanding, I am moving to a regular once-a-week posting schedule–there should be a new post every Tuesday. Sorry for the scarcity, but I think it’s better than the scatter-shot posting I’m managing right now!

Parts 1, 2, and 3 of this series on how you can know when your writing is “good enough” for public consumption.

This question of objectivity applies in two ways: First, how do you know your writing in general is good enough to go out into the world and be read by others? Second, how do you know a particular piece of writing is good enough?

First things first: if you are strong enough as a writer to consistently put out quality work, then you can be fairly confident that your particular pieces of writing will pass muster. So how do you know you’ve become that strong?

We’ve already discussed things like developing an ear, learning technique, and getting an education. But all of this can only take you so far. When you really need to know whether you’ve “made it,” for me, the answer has been simple answer: Listen to what other people say. And most importantly, try to get published.

(I don’t remember where I first read/heard this, but it’s absolutely true. You will know you have reached that high mark as a writer when other people are willing to publish you. That doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll get your dream book contract. But when you can get into magazines or onto good websites, find acceptance in an anthology, or get hired to write a business letter, you’ll know you’ve reached “good enough.”)

It does matter whom you’re listening to. Mothers, God bless them, usually think their children should be raking in Pulitzer prizes even if that is not exactly true. Friends, siblings, and anyone with a vested interest in your life will have a harder time giving you objective feedback about your writing because they can’t separate your writing from YOU. For that reason, the best feedback usually comes from outside your usual circles.

If you want to be a writer, get involved in the community of writers that exists online and in the real world around you.

Professional editors and writing coaches can give critiques or other services, for a fee. Writing conferences offer workshops and other opportunities to get your work in front of people who know good writing from bad. But most forms of feedback are free:

Critique groups can be helpful, because the people in them are also getting an education, training their ears, learning technique, etc. They know the objective things to look for and can help you see what you can’t in your own writing. Most communities have a critique group meeting somewhere–or you could start one. Online forums can be a great place for reader response and advice. And blogging, networking online, and reviewing books can help get notice for your own writing as well.

And don’t forget publication. Keep putting your work out there, getting it rejected, revising your approach, and trying again. Eventually, you’ll cross over the other side, and you’ll know you’ve become a professional.

Of course, any comments on your abilities have to be taken with a grain of salt. People like to give opinions even if they don’t know what they’re talking about. (Sometimes they even speak out of jealousy.) And someone who hates your genre or topic isn’t likely to be charitable to your writing.

I really began networking online about six years ago. By now, I am convinced I can write. Editors, agents, bestselling and uber-talented writers, reviewers, readers, and publishers have all told me so. If nothing else, participation in community has shown me that I am a professional and I do have a right to take myself seriously as a writer.

As for knowing when a particular piece of writing is good enough . . .

Find some readers you really respect, people who are willing to tell you what they really think, and open yourself up to criticism. It will help if you will let it. Participate in a workshop or critique group. Or just start trying to get your work published. An acceptance letter will tell you all you need to know :).

P.S. There is a flip side to this whole thing: some really good writers don’t get published and don’t get recognition, for a few reasons. And some of us never believe our writing is ready, no matter what others say. But that is a different issue. Most of us really can use the opinions of others as an effective measuring stick when we’re trying to figure out where we’re at in our writing readiness.

This second book in C.S. Lakin’s “The Gates of Heaven” series follows The Wolf of Tebron with an adventure tale that echoes the tone and tropes of many a classic fairy tale—with a lot of ancient Hebrew and a little Dr. Who thrown in for good measure.

The kingdom of Sherbourne is under a curse. Its broken walls, crumbling since the days of the ancient battle for which they were first built, are an appropriate symbol for what is happening on the inside: the queen is dead, withered away by a mysterious sickness, the king is going mad with greed, and a group of whispering, plotting counselors is taking over.

Adin and Aletha, the twin children of the king, feel powerless to stop what is happening. Aletha is beautiful and passionate, but though she attends meetings of the city council and tries to influence the king’s policies, she has no real voice. Adin, the heir, is marred by a hunched back, a bum leg, and a twisted face—and his father hates him.

Eighteen years of age, the twins’ devotion to each other is all that gives them hope and life—that, and a strange memory of a man who told them, on the eve of their mother’s death, that she wasn’t really dead . . .

When a man stumbles into the king’s path claiming to have been blinded by the beauty and brilliance of the mythical firebird, the king is so obsessed with claiming the creature that he promises Aletha’s hand in marriage to anyone who can capture it. Horrified, Adin sets out to find the firebird himself and so save his adored twin from a fate probably worse than death. But an encounter with a talking pig named Winston and a mysterious, long-haired hermit set him on a very different path—

Through time.

The curse, as his anachronistic nurse Reya has long told him, is real. It began centuries before during the reign of the first Regent of Sherbourne. And only Adin, armed with a painted map that will take him through time and a heart that longs to prove himself, can stop the curse from playing out to its final, destructive end.

The Map Across Time is a fairy tale through and through. The talking pig (in a land where all other animals stay silent, thank you very much), the beautiful princess, the good-hearted but despised son (he’s not a “younger son,” but certainly in spirit he is), the nursemaid who is more than she seems to be—all these elements root this story firmly in the genre of all those stories I read in Classics Illustrated as a little kid. It also has biblical roots, of a sort: the “old language” spoken by the nursemaid and the early inhabitants of Sherbourne is Hebrew, and concepts of sin, atonement, and above all, providence are very much present.

(That’s not to say this is an allegory. There is no straight allegory here; if there was, I would call it problematic, for various reasons. The themes are Christian but don’t have to be—they could easily be made to fit other worldviews. I found this to be true in Wolf of Tebron as well.)

C.S. Lakin’s writing is lyrical, although I found this book lacked some of the beauty of The Wolf of Tebron. The use of Hebrew words struck me as distracting at times, taking away from the narrative rhythm. Still, the story is faster paced than Wolf, and the characters are immediately sympathetic. The climax unfolds with an almost luxurious slowness, but is incredibly satisfying—and fascinating—to watch.

Oh—and once again, the cover art is gorgeous.

I continue to enjoy this series and look forward to the next installment.

Children’s author Patricia C. Wrede* has been blogging recently about what she calls “Lego Theory,” or the putting together of books from the very tiniest pieces–letters and words–to the largest. It’s excellent. Very rarely will you see writing advice that gets this down and detailed.

I define strong words as “the ones people pay more attention to.” They have more weight in the reader’s mind, and therefore make more of an impact. Since fiction is usually about making an impact on the reader, strength is probably the most important property and word, phrase, sentence, etc. can have.

What makes strength really useful, though, is that it isn’t an absolute property – it’s affected by a whole lot of other things that come along as words get strung together in different ways to make larger and larger units. This means that a writer can adjust the impact that a word or phrase or sentence has, by adjusting some of its other properties.

Read “The Lego Theory, Part II” here. Or check out her blog and read the whole series. I will be back with more thoughts on objectivity soon–but this was too good not to share!

* Many many years ago, I found a book called Dealing with Dragons at the local library. I read it, laughed over it, loved it, and walked around with it clutched to my chest. (I was very attached to my favourite books.) That book was the first in Ms. Wrede’s Enchanted Forest series. The fact that she is blogging now makes me feel that the modern world is encroaching too much on my childhood, but oh well.