Lee Stephen

July 11, 2012 By Lee Stephen

Does Faith Belong in Sci-Fi?

“I have nothing against Christian or Christian writers, but when I want a ‘Christian’ story, I will buy one. When I want military Science Fiction, that is what I want.”

“Pages upon pages of God this and God that … Oh GOD cut it out! If I want to be preached to, I’ll go to a sermon. When I read military science fiction, I want a good story, NOT a spiritual rant.”

“The main character had a fixation on the Bible. For no apparent reason he would start thinking about his ‘faith,’ question god’s ‘plan,’ do some soul-searching, then decide he is doing what god ‘wants’ him to do.”

Well…that answers that!

Not so fast.

The quotes that kicked this entry off, if you haven’t figured it out, are from selected 1-star reviews for Dawn of Destiny, the first installment of my Epic series (NOT representative of the vast majority of its reviews). The same sentiment can be taken from each: an unequivocal insistence that stories of faith have no business being in science-fiction. They are oil and water. Wheat and chaff. Teenagers and turn signals. So the question remains. Does faith belong in science-fiction?

My answer is unabashedly, wholeheartedly, yes.

Now before some of you get all crazy on me, take a moment to understand the statement you just read. It did not say, “To not advocate [insert any name of any religion] is to fail.” Nor did it read, “To say that God is not real is to fail.” Take a look at the fundamental basis of the originally-proposed question. Does faith belong in sci-fi?

According to a 2011 survey, 51% of the global population has a belief in God, with varying percentages falling under such options as, “believes in an afterlife,” or “undecided.” Only 18% classify themselves as “not religious.” Bear in mind, “not religious” does not equal “atheist.” It simply means “not religious.”

Faith is real. That is not to argue that it is correct, or proper, or in need of emphasis. It is simply to state what it states. Faith – the human belief in some sort of Almighty – is real.

This is really just touching on something that has become somewhat of a passion point for me lately: the mindset that the word “God” should never appear in any sort of science-fiction (unless it’s followed by an expletive). Characters who seem real should appear in science-fiction, and if characters who seem real should appear in science-fiction, then characters of faith should appear, as well. That’s not an opinion. Unless your protagonist is an atheist who will have zero contact with any other human throughout the course of your story, or the full length of the narrative takes place at an atheists’ convention, then faith must appear to some extent to capture the essence what we should strive for: realism..

Obviously the question still remains, to what extent should faith exist in a science-fiction story? And the answer is, “whatever you want.” Including faith does not mean pushing it. It does not mean leaving footnotes to Bible verses. It doesn’t even mean making the person of faith the hero (heroes are heroes, religious or atheist). But it shouldn’t be ignored. It exists, in the same way that atheism exists, in the same way that agnosticism exists, in the same way that this whacked-out kid who married a cow ( http://www.metro.co.uk/weird/830794-man-forced-to-marry-cow-faints-at-wedding ) exists.

Me, personally? I’m not a fan of laying it on thickly. In spite of what the reviewers at the top of this entry think they read (I’m fairly certain it wasn’t my book), my preference for faith inclusion leans toward light and subtle. Because isn’t that how most of us are, most of the time, with everything we do? Realism is captured in subtleties. Now, the faith element of Epic and in particular in Scott Remington – my protagonist – is absolutely there, and I make zero apologies. But we – and particularly the owners of the quotes that kicked off this entry – make a mistake when we view “there” as “preaching.” We make a mistake when we don’t want faith present at all. We might as well marry a cow.

Okay, so that last line didn’t make sense. But just the same…what the heck was that kid thinking?

May 23, 2012 By Lee Stephen

Writing Rant: No Room for Speculation

I want to talk about a term that really bothers me. It’s one that has become, especially as of late, a catchphrase for many writers. Though the term has existed since the 1940s, it’s popped up in droves over the past decade or so. If you read anything, it’s impossible to ignore.

I am talking about the term, “speculative fiction.”

If you ask most speculative-fiction writers what exactly speculative-fiction is, you’ll get the following answer: “Speculative fiction is fiction that asks, ‘what if?'” Here’s my beef with that. That’s any fiction. That’s the point of fiction. That is what fiction is. Why so add the word “speculative” to it?

The exact definition for speculative fiction can be found here. “Speculative fiction is an umbrella term encompassing the more fantastical fiction genres, specifically science fiction, fantasy, horror, supernatural fiction, superhero fiction, utopian and dystopian fiction, apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic fiction, and alternate history in literature as well as related static, motion, and virtual arts.” That is literally everything. Anything you could ever write that could be described as fiction fits into speculative fiction.

What if there were these vampires that sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight, and they were battling these werewolves in this big romantic-drama storyline? Hello, Twilight.

What if there was this world where there were life and death games played by children who won some sort of lottery? The Hunger Games.

What if a mysterious gunslinger wandered into an old western town and befriended a young boy? We’ll call that one Shane. (and before anyone says, “that’s not on the list of spec-fic genres,” yes it is; if it’s history that never happened, it’s alternate history – another term that bugs the heck out of me).

What if a guy was hunting this white whale? What if there was a galaxy long ago that was far, far away? What if animals on a farm created their own government?

You get the point. Everything is speculative fiction. Garfield is speculative fiction. Ace Ventura: Pet Detective is speculative fiction. Heck, fantasy football is almost speculative fiction. “What if Drew Brees could throw to Calvin Johnson?” Well, there you go.

For the life of me, I fail to see any reason to call yourself a speculative fiction writer except to call yourself a speculative fiction writer. Why not just call yourself a “writer?” Or if you’re genre-specific, be genre-specific. You write science-fiction. You write westerns. You write period romance. To me, saying that you write speculative fiction is no different from saying that you write finger-tappin’ fiction, which is fiction that happens when your fingers tap a keyboard. Does that term actually mean anything significant? Nope. But it sure sounds like it means something.

“Hey, whatcha reading?”

“Why, I just got me some finger-tappin’ fiction by Lee Stephen!”

“Well shoooo-eee and yee-haw!”

Actually…that’s not too bad. Finger-tappin’ fiction! I like the sound of that. Lee Stephen, writer of finger-tappin’ fiction! I think that can take me places.

So I guess the whole point is…be a writer of what you write. Don’t group yourself into a term that exists solely to exist. Be proud of the genre you write in, and if you write in more than one, say you write in more than one. Or just say you “write.” Look – being able to write in many different areas is a skill unto itself. Calling yourself just a writer isn’t bland, it’s a testament to your ability to be diverse. Be proud of that. Don’t feel the need to try and sound more unique or talented than you already are.

May 6, 2012 By Lee Stephen

The Sounds of Silence

I ran into some former neighbors of mine last night at The Seafood Pot, a small restaurant in Destrehan, LA, and we got to talking about the difference between living in busy towns and quiet, rural America. You see, my wife and I moved to Luling several years ago upon getting married, Luling being one of the larger towns in our parish (for those who don’t know, a parish is Louisiana’s version of a county). This move took me away from the place I’d grown up, a much more isolated and quiet area of Des Allemands and Bayou Gauche, more than a few miles away from Luling and down a long road that splits right through pastureland. The move was absolutely the right decision, and I love the home that Lindsey and I have created. Just the same, it happens to be situated right alongside a fairly busy road in a fairly busy little town.

Now, this doesn’t bother me. I don’t mind being smack dab in the middle of things, and while my current residence isn’t exactly in “the middle of things,” it’s definitely a far cry from cows and alligators within viewing distance of my front porch. But it does make me appreciate just how nice peace and quiet can be.

I really realized this about a year and a half ago, when I had a pickup to make in my old neighborhood at about 0500-0600. As I got out of my truck and awaited the person I’d gone to meet, I stood in the street and just listened. There’s something magically pacifying about the sound of leaves rustling in the gentle wind–of birds waking up to the morning sun. During my wait for this individual, those were the only two things that I heard: birds and wind. I remember closing my eyes and thinking, wow, I really miss this.

Last year I got to take a friend of mine, Michael Paladine, who is actually the voice behind David Jurgen in the upcoming Dawn of Destiny audiobook, out to my neck of the woods. And by that I mean, out in a boat to the middle of the marsh (the Game Reserve, for those knowledgeable about this area). Mike’s from NYC. And by that, I really mean NYC. He’d never been to Louisiana before, and he was unaccustomed to the sheer isolation of, well, isolation. Being in the middle of nowhere. Hearing only the swirls of bass (the fish, not the instrument) as they hit insects on the surface of the water amid a backdrop of birds, insects, and frog songs. Nature. I distinctly remember hearing Mike say, as he stood there and just took it all in, “You know, I think people need to get away to a place like this every now and then.” Hearing him say that stuck with me.

I think it’s true. If you asked me which thing I’d rather do–write, or sit in a boat in the middle of the Game Reserve–I’m not sure which one I’d pick. I definitely know which one I have more time for, and unfortunately, it’s writing. But I think everyone, at some point or another, needs to get lost in the great expanse of the natural world.

Or at the very least, spend some time living in a quiet neighborhood.

What are some of your favorite getaway places? Post them in the comments!

Cast right there.

January 28, 2012 By Lee Stephen

Lagniappe: Saying Goodbye to a Friend

This wasn’t an entry I’d intended to write. But who wants to spend their lives sticking to the plan, right? This blog post is going to be filed under the category “lagniappe,” which is a common word in South Louisiana meaning, “a little bit extra.” So this is some lagniappe for you. And maybe just a little for me, as well.

In September of 2007, NBC’s “little engine that could” hit the airwaves for the first time. I’m talking about the show Chuck. Anyone who’s kept up with this show is well aware of its resilience. On numerous occasions, it was on the verge of cancellation, and every time, the fans (and Subway) kept it alive. It was a harmless little show about a super spy named Sarah Walker and the hapless nerd, Chuck Bartowski, she was tasked with keeping alive. Part sitcom…okay, mostly sitcom…part drama, part action spy shoot-’em-up, it was in my opinion one of the most sincere, and consequently best shows to grace the airwaves for the past five years. The series came to a close on Friday, the 27th of January.

This entry isn’t a recap or review of the series finale, though if you insisted on a brief opinion, I’d say that it “went in all the way,” as Chuck has since episode one. Chuck didn’t do everything right, and it had more than its fair share of “come on, guys, you can do better than that” moments throughout its tenure, but that became part of the show’s charm. For better or worse, it tried. That, in my opinion, will go down as its biggest success. It was a good show. You can’t say that about very many shows nowadays. Chuck was worth sticking with.

But where Chuck ties in with what I do, and with what every writer does, be it for novels or television shows, is that it came to an end. It came to grips with and accepted its mortality. It drew its final breath, as Epic will draw its final breath, as all good things will.

It’s been said a billion-and-one times, “it’s not how you start, it’s how you finish.” This is true. Dawn of Destiny, the first book in the Epic series, will always hold a special place in my heart. Just the same, I’m always thrilled to hear when someone loved it, as I generally consider it my weakest work. What truly matters with Epic, or any series, is where it’s heading and where it will stop.

Being that I’ve never ended a series before, I can’t exactly tout expertise in the area. I do, however, think I know how all series should end. With faithfulness. With something that leaves the reader, when they turn that final page and close the cover, with a sad sense of warmth, not at any one particular event in the finale’s plot or arc, but that “they did it right.” Endings can be happy, sad, or anywhere in-between. More importantly is that they’re right.

Literarily-speaking, Scott Remington is going to meet his end. Svetlana, David, Esther, Becan…no character is immune from the passage of time. At some point, the final page will be turned, and their stories will cease to be. As I find myself crossing that “halfway done” threshold, I find myself thinking more and more how those events will play out. Yes, there’s always a plan. But any writer worth his salt will tell you that all plans are subject to change should inspiration strike at the right time. I know where Epic is heading. But just like the characters themselves, what happens when we get there is a mystery that will be revealed only when it’s revealed. I only know that the goal is not for the biggest explosion, or the most passionate kiss, or for the deepest sadness. The goal is for the reader to close the back cover, lean back on their sofa, and say, “I’m really going to miss this.”

Joshua Gomez, who played Morgan Grimes in Chuck, said that the emotions hit him when he walked off the set of the Buy More for the last time, quoted as saying: “Out of all the sets and everything, that’s the one that, to me, sort of embodies the show. So we kind of said good night to it, and we didn’t want to leave. We all just kind of stood there in a little circle talking about our favorite moments, [and] all the mayhem that’s happened here. It was really cool, but then as I walked off the stage, and I was by myself…I just felt it, like, ‘That’s the last time I’ll walk off that set.’ Then it hit me.”

I hope Epic hits readers. Not because of a gimmick or a cheap tear-jerker I threw in for effect, but because something good has come, gone, and been worth it. I’m a long way from getting there. But I know it’s coming.

In the meantime, do yourself a favor and load up Chuck Season One, if you haven’t seen it already. Stick with it – it’s worth it. And when the time comes after that final episode, lean back on your sofa as I did with my wife, and just take it all in. It’s okay to tear up. We both did. Then say goodbye.

It’s been a good ride, Chuck Bartowski. I’m really going to miss you.

January 25, 2012 By Lee Stephen

Get a Job, you Lazy Bum

Okay, I’m going to start this one off with a caveat. If nothing whatsoever is dependent on you contributing income to your household, feel free to skip this one. That’s not as harsh as it sounds. Many housewives (or househusbands – this is the 21st century, after all) are stay-at-home, maintaining the house or caring for the kids while the significant other is away bringing home the proverbial bacon. Being a huge supporter of stay-at-homes, I would never encourage them to abandon the all-too-important task of child-rearing and/or house-maintaining. Those things are most important, and this blog entry isn’t for you.

This blog entry is for the, “I don’t need a job, my writing is going to pay the bills, just you wait and see” crowd. Since I’m absolutely positive that some people are going to think it, no, I’m not singling out or thinking of any person in particular with this entry. These are things I have known and passed on for years. And honestly, there are too many of you to single out, anyway. This is a message for the masses (and trust me, there are masses of you who fall into this category).

Anyway, moving on. Like I was saying, you need to get a real job.

“So you’re saying I can’t do this? That I’m not good enough? That I’ll never reach the heights of the oh-so-mighty Epic universe? Well let me tell you something, pal!”

Okay, wait. Stop right there. Envision me plugging my fingers over my ears and going, “la-la-la-la-la!”

Shut up.

This is not a declaration based on anyone’s writing ability, sales ability, or any perceived lack thereofs. This is not a slight. This is math. Put the pride down, back away slowly, and come join me for a moment in the world of reality, where, believe it or not, I myself have a job (with Homeland Security, in case you were curious).

The median income where I live is $61,100 a year. That means, on average, it costs $61,100 a year here to effectively maintain a household. Those aren’t my numbers, those are statistics. That’s house notes, car notes, utilities, groceries, children, pets, the friggin’ air conditioner that went out again, and the new gadgets from Best Buy that you just have to have.

$61,100 / 12 months = $5,100 (approx.) a month.

If you earn $10 per book sold, which is ridiculous, you’d have to sell 510 books a month to meet the median cost of living.

If you earn $5 per book sold, which is not common but not unreasonable, that’s 1,020 books per month.

If you sell your ebooks for all of $0.99, and bring in a $0.70 profit per ebook sold, you would have to sell 7,286 ebooks every month to meet the median demands of every day living.

Keep in mind, these numbers do not reflect full-time benefits such as health insurance, vision, dental, and retirement. In fact, you can scratch “retirement” off the list completely if you’re planning on making it on writing alone, because guess what? You ain’t retiring. Hope you can still pump out 120 WPM when you’re 75.

I want to break this next part to you softly, because it has the potential to sting. No one cares that you write. Okay, yes, some people care. But not the kind of people who are going to give you monthly salaries and full-time benefits. We are not physicists. We are not doctors. We write imaginary stories. The ability to form words and put them into coherent sentences is not worthy of a paycheck in and of itself. And the world’s not even wrong about this one. Heck, I wouldn’t give you a salary for that, either. Not unless you’re throwing in complimentary landscaping. People hire people for things they need. Very few people need a writer.

“Meaningless! Meaningless! Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless!”

Calm down, Solomon. I’m not telling you to ditch Word and go learn algebra. What I’m conveying is a very simple truth. In order to make it, you need income. In order to get income, you need a job.

That’s it.

There’s something that every would-be writer needs to understand – even those determined to make writing a career: getting a job is not accepting defeat. Far from it! I’d actually say the exact opposite, that getting a job is the first major step in taking your writing endeavors seriously. Yes, I just said what you think I said. Getting a job is the first major step in taking your writing endeavors seriously. Here’s why:

Producing quality books takes money. Possibly lots of money. I once told someone that producing a professional-looking book should cost somewhere in the vicinity of $5,000. You need an editor (yes, you NEED an editor). You need a designer. You need to pay whatever fees your printer/distributor demands. You need a cover artist. People don’t do this kind of stuff for free.

I run across a lot of writer hopefuls who say, “I’ll do whatever it takes to succeed.” That’s admirable, and I would never ask you to change that. Heck, if writing’s your passion, you should feel that way, by whatever definition you attribute to “success.” But if you tack on to the end of that statement, “but I’m not getting a job,” then you’ve already failed yourself. If you’re not willing to get a job and earn money to support yourself as a professional author, then you’re obviously not willing to do whatever it takes. Which to me says that you don’t take your writing all that seriously to begin with.

Jobs don’t supplant writing, they support it.

Take your writing seriously. Commit to success. Get a job that enables you to pursue writing by taking the burden of income off your writing. This is the first step toward making money with your books (wha-wha-whaaaaaat?). The great philosopher Victor Newman once said, “you have to spend money to make money.” Having regular income will allow you to do that.

This message has been brought to you by the Commission of Common Sense and the Real World. And from your parents. Who are ready for you to move out.