My post about the basics of my own beliefs leads to this: religion and fiction.
I’ll sum up by own feelings on the subject by saying this: There’s not enough of it.
Now, don’t jump ahead, and let me expound in most boring fashion.
I do NOT want religion to overtake the shelves at the local bookstores and libraries. I feel there are already enough books about religion, including Christian fiction and the like, out there already.
I’m not advocating more fiction that is PRO religion, but I don’t necessarily mean fiction that is against religion.
I just mean that religion affects a lot of people, directly or indirectly, and I feel a lot of novelists and short story writers skirt the topic altogether, specifically speculative fiction writers.
Fantasy often verges on speaking of religion, but rarely does it do so unless it’s over the top, and hammering into your head that you need to drop to your knees and pray to Jesus or the great big, bad dark lord is going to get you.
Most often, fantasy writers just skip religion, even though there are miraculous events in their fiction.
Even in horror, religion is often overlooked. Sure, there might be demons and devils and the like, but rarely are there good beings of a spiritual nature. Rarely do victims or survivors of terrors turn to spiritual beliefs for any comfort.
To me this is unrealistic. If you have ever been in a situation where you think you’re about to buy the farm, you usually get real close to Jesus real fast. If not during the events, then afterwards. At the very least, you begin to think about your own mortality and your place in the universe.
It’s understandable why some writers would stay away from religion. First, writers are pigeonholed as “artistic types,” thus are to some extent expected to be more secular oriented, if not out-and-out anti-religious. Second, I could see where a writer might stay away from religious subject matter simply because he or she doesn’t want to deal with the headaches.
I suppose I generally look at religion from more of a scholarly point of view, so I just don’t understand why a large portion of humanity feels it necessary to make sure everyone else believes just what they believe. And I definitely don’t understand why anyone murders or starts wars over religion. It’s silly. Spiritual beliefs can’t be proven, one way or the other, thus are not worth fighting about.
Now, I’m not saying everyone needs to go out and starting adding religious or spiritual themes to their work. I guess, more than anything, I just wish more writers would keep these things in mind, especially spec fiction writers. Not every character should be a secularist, and not every character should have had bad experiences with religion. That’s just unrealistic.
But, on the other hand, I don’t want to see every protagonist out their waving a cross whenever the undead start marching, the aliens land or the orcs are charging up the hill.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Religion and fiction, part 1
As anyone who knows me in real life, and likely online, will realize, I am not the most religious of people, at least by modern standards of what a religious person should be. I don’t go to church. I don’t pray, or at least not very often.
But I do enjoy talking about religion. I love studying religion, from a historical standpoint and from a philosophical one. I love playing devil’s advocate, voicing the strengths or weaknesses of the opinions of any side.
I do believe in a supreme being, call him or her or it god or Allah or Johnny Depp. I don’t know that this supreme being needs to be worshipped, or even wants to be. I just flat out don’t know.
I do tend to believe there is some shred of truth in Christianity and Judaism, if for no other reason than certain portions of those religions make sense to me from a “reasoning” point of view. And there’s also the matter of Biblical prophecy. Sorry if I sound like a nut, but it seems to me much prophesized in Daniel, and to some extent Revelations, is coming true daily before our very eyes. But I’ll admit, it might all be coincidence.
I’ve studied Islam some, read the Koran, and don’t quite come away with the same impression. To me, the Koran does have a lot in it that makes sense, but so much of modern Islam as an organized religion is not based upon the Koran but upon traditions that have been passed down through the years… and many of those traditions to me don’t make sense logically. However, I freely admit much of the tradition of Christianity and Judaism also do not come from their holy literature, but the difference is that within those cultures I can tell the difference. I simply don’t know enough about Islamic culture to tell that difference, at least not easily. Buddhism has a lot that makes sense to me, but there are also parts of Buddhism that seem silly.
I find least appealing Hinduism, Mormonism, Scientology and the old guy on the street corner in Chillicothe, Ohio, who used to try and sell me pickles out of a jar. I don’t mean to offend anyone who adheres to any of these systems of belief, but for me they seem illogical. I’ve studied a little bit about all of them, but I’ve found little I felt was logical, or “reasonable.”
For the most part, I reject atheism completely. To me atheism is way to egoistic, and the idea of a creator seems more logical to me than that we exist by chance. Come on, the very gears of the universe are complicated beyond what humans can imagine; to my way of thinking, there almost has to be a creator or, at least, some sort of creation that wasn’t mere happenstance.
Oh, and let me add that I detest … DETEST … evangelical work of any kind. It’s advertising. It’s public relations. That’s all it is in this day and age. Everyone has heard about Jesus by now. We all know. If we still decide not to do anything about it, and we go to hell forever because of it, then you can point at me from your heavenly reward, shake your head and go “tsk, tsk, tsk!” At that point, it won’t matter to me. And if you’re out spreading the word about somebody else besides Jesus, I don’t need to know any of that stuff either … and I don’t need to buy a pencil.
So, call me agnostic, if you will. Maybe even call me a Deist, because I definitely tend most toward those beliefs. You can even call me a Christian, and I won’t be tooooo offended.
But I do enjoy talking about religion. I love studying religion, from a historical standpoint and from a philosophical one. I love playing devil’s advocate, voicing the strengths or weaknesses of the opinions of any side.
I do believe in a supreme being, call him or her or it god or Allah or Johnny Depp. I don’t know that this supreme being needs to be worshipped, or even wants to be. I just flat out don’t know.
I do tend to believe there is some shred of truth in Christianity and Judaism, if for no other reason than certain portions of those religions make sense to me from a “reasoning” point of view. And there’s also the matter of Biblical prophecy. Sorry if I sound like a nut, but it seems to me much prophesized in Daniel, and to some extent Revelations, is coming true daily before our very eyes. But I’ll admit, it might all be coincidence.
I’ve studied Islam some, read the Koran, and don’t quite come away with the same impression. To me, the Koran does have a lot in it that makes sense, but so much of modern Islam as an organized religion is not based upon the Koran but upon traditions that have been passed down through the years… and many of those traditions to me don’t make sense logically. However, I freely admit much of the tradition of Christianity and Judaism also do not come from their holy literature, but the difference is that within those cultures I can tell the difference. I simply don’t know enough about Islamic culture to tell that difference, at least not easily. Buddhism has a lot that makes sense to me, but there are also parts of Buddhism that seem silly.
I find least appealing Hinduism, Mormonism, Scientology and the old guy on the street corner in Chillicothe, Ohio, who used to try and sell me pickles out of a jar. I don’t mean to offend anyone who adheres to any of these systems of belief, but for me they seem illogical. I’ve studied a little bit about all of them, but I’ve found little I felt was logical, or “reasonable.”
For the most part, I reject atheism completely. To me atheism is way to egoistic, and the idea of a creator seems more logical to me than that we exist by chance. Come on, the very gears of the universe are complicated beyond what humans can imagine; to my way of thinking, there almost has to be a creator or, at least, some sort of creation that wasn’t mere happenstance.
Oh, and let me add that I detest … DETEST … evangelical work of any kind. It’s advertising. It’s public relations. That’s all it is in this day and age. Everyone has heard about Jesus by now. We all know. If we still decide not to do anything about it, and we go to hell forever because of it, then you can point at me from your heavenly reward, shake your head and go “tsk, tsk, tsk!” At that point, it won’t matter to me. And if you’re out spreading the word about somebody else besides Jesus, I don’t need to know any of that stuff either … and I don’t need to buy a pencil.
So, call me agnostic, if you will. Maybe even call me a Deist, because I definitely tend most toward those beliefs. You can even call me a Christian, and I won’t be tooooo offended.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
I will regret posting this
Just because I like it when people laugh and make fun of me …
I recently had a rather unique experience, one that either shows I’m getting old, I’m no longer a man, or that I’m into this writing thing waaaaay too much.
I went to a strip club. And had a lap dance. AND had a private dance in one of the back rooms. AND, yep, it’s not just the tops that come off.
Before you start thinking Ty has become some creepy old guy, let me explain a few things. First, this was only the second time I have ever been to a strip club; the first time was way back in 1990 when a friend of mine took me to such a club for my 21st birthday, and I was immediately turned off by the ugly music, the ugly beer and the ugly women.
Second, I didn’t actually WANT to go to a strip club this recent time. A friend of mine was getting married and he, his best man and other pals wanted to go to the club for his bachelor’s party. I didn’t really want to go. I had had no sleep the night before, was dead tired, and as I mentioned, had not had a good experience before at a strip club. But they needed a designated driver. So, a little arm twisting later, I trucked this group of guys (all of whom are much younger than myself) out for a night on the town.
When we get there, the drinks start flowing for everybody but myself (I had one beer, then switched to Diet Coke for the rest of the night, which was cool because our serving lady gave me the Diet Cokes for free), the lights are dim except for the flashing neon spotlights flashing in my face every three seconds and the dozen or so whirling, dizzying disco balls in the ceiling. Most of the music is heavy, but not real heavy, the kind of stuff you’d hear on hard rock radio, but not true metal (so, mostly, again, I hated the music). The walls are bright red slashed through with silver mirrors. The floor is fake leopard skin. The chair are basically leather couches you can sink into. The tables are small and wobbly and only there to hold your drinks or ashtrays.
Yes, I did watch a good number of the girls dance (and by the way, for anyone offended by my use of the term “girls” for grown women dancing fully naked on a stage … get over yourself … legally they’re women, yeah, but … come on, they’re dancing naked on a stage, they’re dancing “girls,” not dancing “women”). And I didn’t watch it for sexual purposes. I watched their talent. I watched their enthusiasm, or lack of. I watched the audience reaction (and for those of you who want to know, the majority of watchers were indeed male, but there was also a decent number of women and couples watching too). I asked questions of the dancers, some of whom were sweet and answered, but others immediately figured I was a cheapskate and fled. My lap dance and private dance were not my idea, but were forced upon me by a bunch of drunk guys.
And, for me, there was nothing carnal about any of this.
Why?
Because all the while I’m thinking, “this would be a great place for a story.”
That’s right. I sat there with naked women running all over the place, some even rubbing up against me, and all I could think about was how I could turn all of this into a story.
I get home, tell the other half this, and she laughs at me. Then says, “Yeah, I don’t have anything to worry about.”
Great. I’ve officially lost my manhood.
And now let the jokes begin.
I recently had a rather unique experience, one that either shows I’m getting old, I’m no longer a man, or that I’m into this writing thing waaaaay too much.
I went to a strip club. And had a lap dance. AND had a private dance in one of the back rooms. AND, yep, it’s not just the tops that come off.
Before you start thinking Ty has become some creepy old guy, let me explain a few things. First, this was only the second time I have ever been to a strip club; the first time was way back in 1990 when a friend of mine took me to such a club for my 21st birthday, and I was immediately turned off by the ugly music, the ugly beer and the ugly women.
Second, I didn’t actually WANT to go to a strip club this recent time. A friend of mine was getting married and he, his best man and other pals wanted to go to the club for his bachelor’s party. I didn’t really want to go. I had had no sleep the night before, was dead tired, and as I mentioned, had not had a good experience before at a strip club. But they needed a designated driver. So, a little arm twisting later, I trucked this group of guys (all of whom are much younger than myself) out for a night on the town.
When we get there, the drinks start flowing for everybody but myself (I had one beer, then switched to Diet Coke for the rest of the night, which was cool because our serving lady gave me the Diet Cokes for free), the lights are dim except for the flashing neon spotlights flashing in my face every three seconds and the dozen or so whirling, dizzying disco balls in the ceiling. Most of the music is heavy, but not real heavy, the kind of stuff you’d hear on hard rock radio, but not true metal (so, mostly, again, I hated the music). The walls are bright red slashed through with silver mirrors. The floor is fake leopard skin. The chair are basically leather couches you can sink into. The tables are small and wobbly and only there to hold your drinks or ashtrays.
Yes, I did watch a good number of the girls dance (and by the way, for anyone offended by my use of the term “girls” for grown women dancing fully naked on a stage … get over yourself … legally they’re women, yeah, but … come on, they’re dancing naked on a stage, they’re dancing “girls,” not dancing “women”). And I didn’t watch it for sexual purposes. I watched their talent. I watched their enthusiasm, or lack of. I watched the audience reaction (and for those of you who want to know, the majority of watchers were indeed male, but there was also a decent number of women and couples watching too). I asked questions of the dancers, some of whom were sweet and answered, but others immediately figured I was a cheapskate and fled. My lap dance and private dance were not my idea, but were forced upon me by a bunch of drunk guys.
And, for me, there was nothing carnal about any of this.
Why?
Because all the while I’m thinking, “this would be a great place for a story.”
That’s right. I sat there with naked women running all over the place, some even rubbing up against me, and all I could think about was how I could turn all of this into a story.
I get home, tell the other half this, and she laughs at me. Then says, “Yeah, I don’t have anything to worry about.”
Great. I’ve officially lost my manhood.
And now let the jokes begin.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Writing isn't always writing, but sometimes it is
I've been doing a lot of work on my writing lately, but I've not actually done a lot of writing.
Let me explain. I currently have six short stories in circulation, some of them old, a few of them relatively new. I keep working on the trilogy; I'm down to the last three chapters of the final book, basically the climax of the whole thing and the wrapping up.
I've also recently made a list of stories languishing away in computer files, stories I feel are up to publication. I came up with 10 stories. I have found 10 places to send them. Now, just finding the time to get the stories formatted properly, cover letters written, etc.
And ... ta da ... I actually wrote a new short story a few days ago. It was a great experience, the first original writing I've done in months. I'd had the idea in my head for a few days, then it came pouring out of me in one sitting. True, that first draft was only 1,600 words, but I hadn't planned for this being a long story. I've whittled it down to 1,500 words and think I could probably squeeze another 200 from it if I had to, but that would cut out some of the style of it, which I'm not willing to do at this time ... unless an editor asks me to do otherwise. AND, this short story is horror, the first horror I've written in at least three years. AND it's a zombie story, my first true zombie story (I've used undead plenty of times, but usually ghouls or vamps).
There you have it. What's up with my writing of late.
Oh, yeah, and then there's been the book reviewing, the critiquing for others, this blog, postings at various Web sites, etc. etc.
A writer's work is never done.
Unless the writer is dead.
And who knows? Maybe not even then.
Let me explain. I currently have six short stories in circulation, some of them old, a few of them relatively new. I keep working on the trilogy; I'm down to the last three chapters of the final book, basically the climax of the whole thing and the wrapping up.
I've also recently made a list of stories languishing away in computer files, stories I feel are up to publication. I came up with 10 stories. I have found 10 places to send them. Now, just finding the time to get the stories formatted properly, cover letters written, etc.
And ... ta da ... I actually wrote a new short story a few days ago. It was a great experience, the first original writing I've done in months. I'd had the idea in my head for a few days, then it came pouring out of me in one sitting. True, that first draft was only 1,600 words, but I hadn't planned for this being a long story. I've whittled it down to 1,500 words and think I could probably squeeze another 200 from it if I had to, but that would cut out some of the style of it, which I'm not willing to do at this time ... unless an editor asks me to do otherwise. AND, this short story is horror, the first horror I've written in at least three years. AND it's a zombie story, my first true zombie story (I've used undead plenty of times, but usually ghouls or vamps).
There you have it. What's up with my writing of late.
Oh, yeah, and then there's been the book reviewing, the critiquing for others, this blog, postings at various Web sites, etc. etc.
A writer's work is never done.
Unless the writer is dead.
And who knows? Maybe not even then.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Book reviews are up
My first two book reviews for Apex Digest are now up here.
I reviewed Stephen King's "Cell" and Alexandre Dumas' "One Thousand and One Ghosts".
So, go check them out. Let me know what you think.
I reviewed Stephen King's "Cell" and Alexandre Dumas' "One Thousand and One Ghosts".
So, go check them out. Let me know what you think.
Friday, August 03, 2007
When I get to hell ...
| In Which Circle of Hell Would You Reside? Your Result: Circle Three The Gluttonous: Your appetites drove your will instead of goodness. Since you lived a life of filthy consumption you will spend your time consuming filth. | |
| Circle Seven | |
| Circle Nine | |
| Circle Six | |
| Circle Eight | |
| Circle Four | |
| Circle Five | |
| Circle Two | |
| In Which Circle of Hell Would You Reside? Create a Quiz | |
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Belgad's new rules
Hello,
This is Belgad Thunderclan, also known as Belgad the Liar to some of you fine people. I spent the day hanging out with Ty today, and he has asked me to comment. Instead of simply commenting, I have decided to propose several ordinances at the next meeting of the city council. Here they be:
1.) Explosives must be installed beneath the driver's seats of all vehicles. Any time a turn is made without use of the signal, the explosives ... explode!
2.) All stores, especially Wal-Marts, that have aisles too narrow for two individuals to walk down side by side, must be demolished immediately. And they will no longer, EVER, be allowed to build a new store. Anywhere in the city.
3.) Any groups of individuals who decide to block store aisles by chit-chatting with friends or family, on person or over a cell phone, are to be declared wanton criminals of the worst degree. All of their belongings shall be confiscated. Their family and friends shall be hung until dead. They themselves shall be drawn and quartered, after a few days of torture by pliers and blowtorch.
4.) Idiots who keep you waiting in line at stores while they fumble with their checkbook or yack with their friends or have to go on a trip to the moon to find their friggin' credit cards, shall be flayed alive with a leather whip wrapped in barbed wire. Then their children, favorite pet, favorite friend, whomever, shall be boiled in oil ... just because they're stupid enough to have stupid friends.
5.) People who keep you waiting in line while they are buying lottery tickets will be sent to a special kind of hell where they shall be disembowled and beheaded every day ... forever. With their family and friends ... again, just because if you're stupid enough to have such a stupid friend ... well, you know the rest.
6.) Newspaper editors who can't make up their minds story placement, and keep you making over your pages again and again and again and again ... shall be shot dead. No, we won't spend the time torturing them first. We won't give them the satisfaction.
7.) Newspaper reporters who give you a length on their stories must keep to such a length. Or we will burn down their house. While their family is still inside.
8.) Newspaper reporters must meet their deadlines. If they do not, see number 3 above.
9.) The Coke machine in my newspaper's prepress department will start accepting nickels. It has 24 hours. If, by then, it still does not accept nickels ... we will start drinking more Pepsi products. Or Ale 8 One.
10.) Anyone, and I mean anyone, who goes "Rah! Rah!" for the war in Iraq, will be immediately shipped to Iraq. Forever. The same goes for anyone who gives a cheerful smile whenever President Sidious ... er, I mean Bush ... appears on television. If they give a disdainful smile, we will instead allow them to go to Amsterdam. Or Vegas. Forever.
More possibly in the future ...
This is Belgad Thunderclan, also known as Belgad the Liar to some of you fine people. I spent the day hanging out with Ty today, and he has asked me to comment. Instead of simply commenting, I have decided to propose several ordinances at the next meeting of the city council. Here they be:
1.) Explosives must be installed beneath the driver's seats of all vehicles. Any time a turn is made without use of the signal, the explosives ... explode!
2.) All stores, especially Wal-Marts, that have aisles too narrow for two individuals to walk down side by side, must be demolished immediately. And they will no longer, EVER, be allowed to build a new store. Anywhere in the city.
3.) Any groups of individuals who decide to block store aisles by chit-chatting with friends or family, on person or over a cell phone, are to be declared wanton criminals of the worst degree. All of their belongings shall be confiscated. Their family and friends shall be hung until dead. They themselves shall be drawn and quartered, after a few days of torture by pliers and blowtorch.
4.) Idiots who keep you waiting in line at stores while they fumble with their checkbook or yack with their friends or have to go on a trip to the moon to find their friggin' credit cards, shall be flayed alive with a leather whip wrapped in barbed wire. Then their children, favorite pet, favorite friend, whomever, shall be boiled in oil ... just because they're stupid enough to have stupid friends.
5.) People who keep you waiting in line while they are buying lottery tickets will be sent to a special kind of hell where they shall be disembowled and beheaded every day ... forever. With their family and friends ... again, just because if you're stupid enough to have such a stupid friend ... well, you know the rest.
6.) Newspaper editors who can't make up their minds story placement, and keep you making over your pages again and again and again and again ... shall be shot dead. No, we won't spend the time torturing them first. We won't give them the satisfaction.
7.) Newspaper reporters who give you a length on their stories must keep to such a length. Or we will burn down their house. While their family is still inside.
8.) Newspaper reporters must meet their deadlines. If they do not, see number 3 above.
9.) The Coke machine in my newspaper's prepress department will start accepting nickels. It has 24 hours. If, by then, it still does not accept nickels ... we will start drinking more Pepsi products. Or Ale 8 One.
10.) Anyone, and I mean anyone, who goes "Rah! Rah!" for the war in Iraq, will be immediately shipped to Iraq. Forever. The same goes for anyone who gives a cheerful smile whenever President Sidious ... er, I mean Bush ... appears on television. If they give a disdainful smile, we will instead allow them to go to Amsterdam. Or Vegas. Forever.
More possibly in the future ...
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