Now that the first book in The Gates of Heaven series has been released, I've been asked many questions about the themes, quotations, and allegory contained within The Wolf of Tebron. As with all my novels, I start with theme, and this book lent itself in plot and storyline to the theme of dreaming. Why dreaming? I drifted into this idea on many levels. Mostly, I needed a vehicle by which Joran would have to tackle his quest--the rescue of his wife. I'm not sure exactly how the concept of dreaming filtered into my subconscious, but I have often thought of how our lives resemble a dream. How we sleepwalk through this life unaware of our true life in Christ, the real life God has planned for us from the beginning of time. We have been dreamed up, as Ruyah the wolf tells Joran in the book, by the One who creates all things by way of his dreaming. God imagines--and things come into existence.
Joran's wife, Charris, is trapped in a dream that is manifested and upheld by Joran's anger. Joran is unaware that he is responsible for his wife's captivity, and the only way he can save her is by entering his dream to rescue her from the clutches of the Moon, who has her trapped in a sand castle overhanging the sea. Joran, though, cannot enter this place of rescue--his dream--until he has mastered his anger. He has to accomplish other things as well, but I don't want to spoil the story here. As I researched famous quotes by poets and thinkers, I came across one stark and powerful line from the psychologist Carl Jung: "Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens." This tied in nicely with the key phrase of Chesterton's that spurred me on: "The center of man's existence is a dream."
We are not only dreamed up by our Creator, but we are also filled with dreams. Not just the dreams we randomly experience at night but the big dreams of our soul--the dreams God puts in us--or as our pastor so aptly put--God doesn't give us a dream; he puts us inside HIS dream. He calls us in to share and fulfill the dream he already has for us. We are part of his larger dream for all mankind. In this way, Chesterton's words ring out to me. As Joran reflected--not just the center of his existence felt a dream--every bit of his life did as well. It was only, in the end, when he stopped looking outside for direction, answers, and clarity did he finally "awaken." He looked "inside" and faced the truth of who he was in relation to the truth of his existence. We, too, "wake up" when God opens our eyes to truth and shows us who we are in him.
It is like being shaken awake. And often it is more like having a bucket of cold water dumped on our heads. We learn through Joran's journey that we can be both the dreamer and the dreamed. And that is our true path in life--to recognize this fact and embrace it. Joran does, and he finds the true happiness he sought--happiness that can only come when one is awakened on the inside.
Gems from Traditional Fairy Tales
There are thousands of fairy tales from around the world. Recently I've been going through the "color" fairy books of my youth: The Red Fairy Book, The Blue Fairy Book, etc. I chuckled the other day when reading Andrew Lang's introduction to The Green Fairy Book--the third in the series. In it he writes, "This is the third, and probably the last of the Fairy Books of many colours . . ." Of course, there are so many that followed after that collection, I imagined he only stopped because he couldn't think of any more names for colors!
And I came across this terrific, profound remark: "There are not many people now, perhaps there are none, who can write really good fairy tales, because they do not believe enough in their own stories, and because they want to be wittier than it has pleased heaven to make them."
That greatly touched my heart, as I hear the truth in those statements. I believe in my tales with all my heart. In fact, I pour my heart and soul so much into my tales that it took me by surprise, when I finished The Map across Time, to realize I had written my characters to reflect the two deeply integral sides of my soul. What Lang is saying here is a good tale (be it fairy or otherwise) really needs to be a tale the writer believes in. We bring our passion, our emotions, our dreams, and our fears to our stories. The best stories capture those sparks and set aflame a wood blaze. You can always tell when a writer has done that, and when they haven't. As the famous line from Rich and Famous goes: "If your writing doesn't keep you up nights, it won't keep anyone else up either."
At first I was enthralled and surprised by the call to write fairy tales. Not fantasy, but quite specifically, fairy tales. The more I read them, the more I see so many layers. Most were written to impart morals. Many reflect faith, belief in heaven's watchcare and guidance. Some are a little over the top with extreme punishments, no doubt meant to serve as a scary warning to badly behaved children.
Lang claims many turn away from writing tales because they want to be "wittier" than a fairy tale will allow them to be. But, the sky's the limit for wit and cleverness in fairy tales--perhaps even more so than in most other genres. Here's a hilarious passage out of one tale in The Green Fairy Book that describes a king grieving the recent death of his queen: "He shut himself up in a little room and knocked his head against the walls for grief, until his courtiers were really afraid that he would hurt himself. So they hung feather beds between the tapestry and the walls, and then he could go on knocking his head as long as it was any consolation to him without coming to much harm."
If that is not witty, what is?
And I came across this terrific, profound remark: "There are not many people now, perhaps there are none, who can write really good fairy tales, because they do not believe enough in their own stories, and because they want to be wittier than it has pleased heaven to make them."
That greatly touched my heart, as I hear the truth in those statements. I believe in my tales with all my heart. In fact, I pour my heart and soul so much into my tales that it took me by surprise, when I finished The Map across Time, to realize I had written my characters to reflect the two deeply integral sides of my soul. What Lang is saying here is a good tale (be it fairy or otherwise) really needs to be a tale the writer believes in. We bring our passion, our emotions, our dreams, and our fears to our stories. The best stories capture those sparks and set aflame a wood blaze. You can always tell when a writer has done that, and when they haven't. As the famous line from Rich and Famous goes: "If your writing doesn't keep you up nights, it won't keep anyone else up either."
At first I was enthralled and surprised by the call to write fairy tales. Not fantasy, but quite specifically, fairy tales. The more I read them, the more I see so many layers. Most were written to impart morals. Many reflect faith, belief in heaven's watchcare and guidance. Some are a little over the top with extreme punishments, no doubt meant to serve as a scary warning to badly behaved children.
Lang claims many turn away from writing tales because they want to be "wittier" than a fairy tale will allow them to be. But, the sky's the limit for wit and cleverness in fairy tales--perhaps even more so than in most other genres. Here's a hilarious passage out of one tale in The Green Fairy Book that describes a king grieving the recent death of his queen: "He shut himself up in a little room and knocked his head against the walls for grief, until his courtiers were really afraid that he would hurt himself. So they hung feather beds between the tapestry and the walls, and then he could go on knocking his head as long as it was any consolation to him without coming to much harm."
If that is not witty, what is?
Stranger in a Strange Land
"The simplest truth about man is that he is a very strange being," Chesterton writes. "almost in the sense of being a stranger on the earth." This morning I felt like pondering on the universal loneliness we all feel. We've heard the expression, "no man is an island," yet we do feel like islands. I heard a sermon the other day where the pastor said there are more people now living on the earth than have ever lived in all of history, and you would think because there are so many people out there, one would never be lonely. Yet, loneliness and feelings of isolation plague humanity more than ever before.
Here's how Chesterton describes it, in his book The Everlasting Man: "Man has much more of the external appearance of one bringing alien habits from another land than of a mere growth of this one. He cannot sleep in his own skin; he cannot trust his own instincts. He is at once a creator moving miraculous hands and fingers and a kind of cripple. He is wrapped in artificial bandages called clothes; he is propped on artificial crutches called furniture. . . . Alone among the animals, he is shaken with the beautiful madness called laughter, as if he had caught sight of some secret in the very shape of the universe hidden from the universe itself. . . . It is not natural to see man as a natural product."
This feeling we experience has no place in the theory of evolution. For, if humans developed naturally out of the natural world, there would be no strange sense of alienation. But God created us to know him, long for him, and to need him. He put a God-shaped hole in our hearts that nothing will plug except the intimacy gained with him. One of my favorite scriptures is in the book of Acts, chapter seventeen, where Paul tell the Athenians that God made out of one man all humans. And that He fixed both the length of years that they should live as well as the boundaries they would roam in--to what end? So that they should seek God and actually grope for Him, so that they would find Him--although He is not far off from each of us.
That is the source of our apparent loneliness. We are meant to be lonely without God, so we will grope for him. I love that word--so rich in image. As a blind man gropes for a wall or a table to hold onto. We are fumbling around in the dark, our hands outstretched, feeling the edges of a confusing, blurry world, longing for something solid and trustworthy to lean on. To rest in.
When I finished writing my sixth novel, Someone to Blame, I found myself returning over and over in the book to the theme of safety, and our striving to feel safe in a turbulent life that offers no protection from pain and suffering. How grateful I am to know God is holding me in His everlasting arms and that no matter what cliffs I fall off of in this life, He is there to catch me--faithful, true, loving, gentle, kind, merciful, forgiving. We will run out of words to describe Him long before He runs out of amazing qualities!
How I Was Led to Write Fairy Tales
After many years away from writing fiction, I knew it was time to return. I had writen three commercial novels that went everywhere and landed nowhere, and I felt quite discouraged. All my agents had promised me great success; they gushed about my unique writing style and voice. They were puzzled as to why they had failed to get a publisher to sign me up as the next best thing since chocolate. I tired of writing about flawed humans and their angst. I gave up.
Living without writing grows into an illness that seems to permeate every corner of life. My creativity and enthusiasm dwindled away and I ran on empty. In my heart, I knew I was called to write, that it is a gift that I was squandering, but I could not face the thought of laboring and giving birth to yet another weighty novel, only to be rejected once more.
I prayed. I did not pray for motivation to write another novel. I prayed to God to show me what to do with this gift and how to use it to recover my floundering life. I was drifting in a sea of hopelessness and depression, after having gone through some terrible tragedies in my life. I needed rescuing. So God sent me a life raft, in the form of a little book by G. K. Chesterton: Orthodoxy.
How could this slim book written in 1906 about Chesterton's discovery and embracing of Christianity possibly change my writing life (and the rest of my life, for that matter)? It is due to one chapter he entitles, "The Ethics of Elfland."
I had always loved fantasy books; I read them voraciously and have since I was a child. Reading Ray Bradbury inspired me to start writing my own fantasy short stories when I was about nine. I had always wanted to write a fantasy book, but felt it would be an indulgence, a waste of time. For what good were they? Nice, silly escapist books that could not contain the power and truths I so very much yearned to express in my writing. Boy, was I blind! If I had just taken the time to see how fantasy had molded my life, my dreams, my code of honor, my values, I would never accuse fantasy of being so impotent.
So, after months of intense prayer, asking God to help me write again, show me what to write, I found Chesterton's book and--lo and behold--he had written this mind-blowing chapter on the importance of fantasy.
I will just mention a few things in this post, but here are some of the words that spoke to my heart and changed my life:
"We all like astonishing tales because they touch the nerve of the ancient instinct of astonishment . . . .Here I am trying to describe the enorous emotions which cannot be described. And the strongest emotion was that life was as precious as it was puzzling. It was an ecstacy because it was an adventure; it was an adventure because it was an opportunity . . . . It was good to be in a fairy tale."
Chesterton shows how, when he was young, the world contained magic, and that somehow, that magic implied a magician--someone who conjured up all the wonder in the world and gave that wonder meaning. He speaks of how we lose that wonder, how we forget we are living in this magical, awesome world, and what fairy tales do for us is return us to that wonder we have lost. When I read that, I was like a woman dying of thirst, only just realizing that thirst was there. When I had finished reading the chapter, I knew God had spoken to my heart. He said, "write fairy tales. Tell the world about me in the wonder you see and feel and touch. For in doing so, you will rediscover your own wonder and find healing for your soul."
I cannot state enough how true those words have been, how this writing journey of the last two years has not only healed my heart and made my spirit soar, but has brought me to know God more closely than I could have ever imagined.
I will end for now with this beautiful statement by Chesterton: "Life is not only a pleasure but a kind of eccentric privilege." I try to live with that awareness in my heart each day, and response properly--with appreciation to the great conjurer of the universe.
Living without writing grows into an illness that seems to permeate every corner of life. My creativity and enthusiasm dwindled away and I ran on empty. In my heart, I knew I was called to write, that it is a gift that I was squandering, but I could not face the thought of laboring and giving birth to yet another weighty novel, only to be rejected once more.
I prayed. I did not pray for motivation to write another novel. I prayed to God to show me what to do with this gift and how to use it to recover my floundering life. I was drifting in a sea of hopelessness and depression, after having gone through some terrible tragedies in my life. I needed rescuing. So God sent me a life raft, in the form of a little book by G. K. Chesterton: Orthodoxy.
How could this slim book written in 1906 about Chesterton's discovery and embracing of Christianity possibly change my writing life (and the rest of my life, for that matter)? It is due to one chapter he entitles, "The Ethics of Elfland."
I had always loved fantasy books; I read them voraciously and have since I was a child. Reading Ray Bradbury inspired me to start writing my own fantasy short stories when I was about nine. I had always wanted to write a fantasy book, but felt it would be an indulgence, a waste of time. For what good were they? Nice, silly escapist books that could not contain the power and truths I so very much yearned to express in my writing. Boy, was I blind! If I had just taken the time to see how fantasy had molded my life, my dreams, my code of honor, my values, I would never accuse fantasy of being so impotent.
So, after months of intense prayer, asking God to help me write again, show me what to write, I found Chesterton's book and--lo and behold--he had written this mind-blowing chapter on the importance of fantasy.
I will just mention a few things in this post, but here are some of the words that spoke to my heart and changed my life:
"We all like astonishing tales because they touch the nerve of the ancient instinct of astonishment . . . .Here I am trying to describe the enorous emotions which cannot be described. And the strongest emotion was that life was as precious as it was puzzling. It was an ecstacy because it was an adventure; it was an adventure because it was an opportunity . . . . It was good to be in a fairy tale."
Chesterton shows how, when he was young, the world contained magic, and that somehow, that magic implied a magician--someone who conjured up all the wonder in the world and gave that wonder meaning. He speaks of how we lose that wonder, how we forget we are living in this magical, awesome world, and what fairy tales do for us is return us to that wonder we have lost. When I read that, I was like a woman dying of thirst, only just realizing that thirst was there. When I had finished reading the chapter, I knew God had spoken to my heart. He said, "write fairy tales. Tell the world about me in the wonder you see and feel and touch. For in doing so, you will rediscover your own wonder and find healing for your soul."
I cannot state enough how true those words have been, how this writing journey of the last two years has not only healed my heart and made my spirit soar, but has brought me to know God more closely than I could have ever imagined.
I will end for now with this beautiful statement by Chesterton: "Life is not only a pleasure but a kind of eccentric privilege." I try to live with that awareness in my heart each day, and response properly--with appreciation to the great conjurer of the universe.
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