Monthly Archives: February 2014

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Breaking Down the Wall

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I shouldn’t be writing this blog post. No, really. I have a short story whose deadline is the end of next month. It’s for an anthology a fellow writer is assembling. I started it last night. I should be working on that. Why am I not? I’m stuck. Call it “writer’s block,” if you want, but I can’t get the story going.

Every writer, if he’s honest, will admit that while he loves the craft, there is always a part of writing that is most difficult for him. Personally, I’ve noticed I usually have the most trouble starting a story. This isn’t always true (I drilled out last week’s flash fiction in less than 30 minutes, I think), and sometimes I overcome that initial difficulty faster than others, but it still tends to be the hardest point in a story for me. The ideas are swirling in my head like overzealous bees locked in a hive, but when I stare at that blank page, silence falls. (Gotta love unintentional Doctor Who references). Suddenly those bees don’t want out. I managed to crank out a few hundred words, but it was a chore and I hated most of them.

However, when I get past that initial “block” and find the story’s rhythm and voice—it’s like dancing with a whirlwind. Characters come alive; descriptions jump off the page; and settings envelope my mind’s eye until they become my mini-world. It is glorious! I live for times like that. All writers do.

But in order to get into that “zone,” I need to break through that first wall. Some days I can smash through it like Superman (which is funny because I have a Supes costume—maybe I should wear it during those hard days!). Other times, I’m a mere mortal who bruises his shoulder while constantly running into the wall hoping to find a weak spot. Regardless of whether I smash through the quickly or not, it’s a triumph, for out of the white-hot throes of creative energy a new story is birthed. This one I’m working on in particular is one I’m excited about. I just need to get break down the wall.

Now, where’s my Superman costume? 😛

What’s your “wall” in writing? Let’s discuss it in the comments.

Short Stories, Comedy

‘Pizza and a Psychic’ by Nathan Marchand

Author’s Intro: No new blog post this week, but I do have a new story to share. It’s a flash fiction prompted by an assignment in my local writers’ group to write about E.S.P. The following story is loosely based on my own life. (I’ll leave it up to you to decide which parts are “true”). 😛 Enjoy!

Pizza and a Psychic

By Nathan Marchand

            Like Garfield, I hate Mondays. Nothing happens, especially at Pizza Barn, and when you’re a delivery driver, that means no tip money and, worse yet, unending boredom. I spend my time folding boxes and oiling pans. Mundane. Menial. Mind-numbing. There’s just one problem with that: I churn out crazy ideas when I’m bored. Like answering customers’ phone calls with obviously phony names. One time on Independence Day, I answered the phone saying I was George Washington. I was disappointed the customer didn’t notice.

As I was folding what seemed like my thousandth box, the phone rang. I jogged over since no one else liked answering phones. The customer’s name and phone number flashed up on the computer screen. I pressed my thumb on the fingerprint scanner and picked up the phone.

“Thank you for calling Pizza Barn. This is Joey. How may I help you?” I droned reflexively, trying to smile (my manager says customers can “hear a smile” on the phone).

“I’d like to place an order for pick-up,” replied the woman on the phone.

Darnit. Not a delivery! I thought.

I tapped the name flashing on the screen and brought up the customer’s info.

“Is this for Smith?” I asked.

A brief pause. “Yes,” said the customer, surprised.

“Is your address 234 Main Street?”

“Yes. How did you know that?”

My boredom suddenly seized my mouth. I can’t be held responsible for what I said next.

“I’m psychic.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Another pause. “What do I want to order?”

I figured I’d take a shot in the dark, get it wrong, and explain we have caller ID. We’d both have a good laugh, and then I’d take her order.

So, I said, “A large pepperoni pizza and an order of breadsticks with cheese.” That’s about as bland and generic an order you can get—and I learned I was dealing with an equally bland and generic customer!

“That’s right! Oh, my gosh!”

I raised my eyebrows. Talk about luck, I thought.

Ms. Smith kept raving about my E.S.P. as I keyed in her order. After a minute or so, I read back her order and gave her a total. But instead of saying goodbye, she asked me another question.

“Can you tell me my fortune? What will happen to me tonight?”

I rolled my eyes. I wanted to tell her the truth, but she sounded so earnest, I decided to humor her.

“You’ll meet the man of your dreams and win five-hundred dollars in the state lottery.”

Ms. Smith squealed. “I’ll pick up a ticket on my way to the concert tonight! Thank you!” With that, she hung up.

I didn’t think much of it the rest of the evening.

The next day, I was equally as bored folding boxes when the phone rang again. I reflexively answered, not looking at the computer screen.

“Thank you for calling Pizza Barn. This is Joey. How may I help you?”

“Joey! Thanks for answering. You were right!”

“What?!”

I looked at the screen—it was Ms. Smith.

“I won five-hundred dollars and snagged a boyfriend last night at the concert!”

“That’s…great, Miss Smith….” What else could I say?

“I told him about you, and he asked me to call you for advice before he went to the horse races today.”

“Well, um…”

Video

Digression 8: Valentine’s Day Karaoke 2014 – ‘If’ by House of Heroes

I’m a day late, but not a dollar short! I’ve decided to make V-Day karaoke videos an annual tradition. This year, I sing one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands. Sadly, I re-learn why I shouldn’t sing tenor. Let’s just say I thought I should start a band called American Idol Rejects. While I didn’t have a specific girl in mind when I sang this, I identify with several lines from the song. Enjoy!

(Please pardon the typo in the video’s title).

Blog

Washing Feet

Despite my disdain for Valentine’s Day, I’ve decided to post something today. No, it’s not a bitter rant.

I’ve attended many Christian weddings (I’m a Christ-follower, after all), and a common thread throughout them is the couple selecting a Bible passage for the occasion and having the presiding pastor give a short sermon on it. These are usually 1 Corinthians 13, Genesis 2, Ephesians 5:22-33, or a portion of Song of Solomon/Songs. These are great choices, but when I get married, I don’t plan to use any of them.

I’m going to use John 13:1-17.

Read the passage in the above link.
Read the passage in the above link.

You’re probably thinking, “That passage has nothing to do with marriage or romance!”

No, but it has everything to do with love.

Ever notice how most romance stories are about big and grand acts of love? Knights rescuing maidens from dragons. Heroes saving heroines from villains. An elaborate profession of love (like drawing a heart on the side of a building). We all love dragon slayers and want to be like them, and with good reason, but in real life, love usually finds expression in the small things. Sometimes that “dragon” is the dishes that need washed, the diapers that need changed, or the special date that is remembered.

Jesus Christ, God Incarnate, the Creator of the Universe, humbled Himself to perform the most menial of tasks. Washing feet was work relegated to slaves. It was undignified for a rabbi like Jesus to perform such a task. But He did it despite Peter’s objections. It was an example of servant leadership. It’s easy to be served, but love’s nature is to serve others. It may mean doing thankless, disgusting, and/or embarrassing things. It is agape (unconditional) love. It isn’t a feeling; it’s an act of the will. Any lover can die for his beloved. But to live an unglamorous life in service to his beloved? That requires true love. Keep in mind that Jesus washed the disciples’ feet hours before he was nailed to a cross to die for mankind’s sins. That was His greatest act of love. But this humble act anticipated it. In other words, the little things husbands and wives do for each other adds significance to the big things.

Jesus went on to say, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:34-35). One of God’s purposes for marriage is echoing His love for the church. So, by loving each other even in these small, seemingly insignificant ways, a husband and wife broadcast God’s love in Technicolor, especially in this age of rampant divorce.

I want a marriage like this. I want to be the kind of man and husband who will “wash feet” for his wife.

I pray you want the same for yourself, True Believers.

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Never Forget Your Singleness

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Image courtesy of www.bigbaddie.com.
Image courtesy of www.bigbaddie.com.

I’ve made it no secret that Valentine’s Day is my least favorite holiday. In fact, I, like many people, euphemistically call it Singleness Awareness Day. This will be my 30th V-Day in a row without someone special. I’ve had a few girlfriends, but never on this holiday.

What annoys me is whenever singles—especially in Christian circles—lament their singleness in any way, they get tired platitudes (“It’ll happen when you’re not looking,” “Jesus is your boyfriend/girlfriend,” etc.) instead of sympathy. Or, worse yet, heartless lectures. These Christians, despite their good intentions, succeed in only denigrating marriage and singles’ desire for it. They cite Bible passages like 1 Corinthians 7 and make it sound like singleness is the godlier lifestyle. They even accuse singles of either desiring marriage so much they blind themselves to it not being God’s will for them or idolizing it to the point of defying God in seeking it. The worst part is these come from married Christians 99% of the time.

I believe these people have been married for so long, they have forgotten what it was like to be single. Or their time as a single was comparatively short and/or easy. In other words, they’ve lost their frame of reference, if they even had one. They are unable to sympathize. How can a person understand someone who is 30 years old, single, and desiring marriage if he married in his early twenties? Any struggles he had as a single are distant memories. Marital bliss has made him callous. He runs off with his sweetheart on V-Day, forgetting his single friends—if he has any—are alone at home.

I, however, won’t forget my singleness when I get married. I’ve spent too much time struggling with singleness to do so. I’ve watched friends hook up and get married while I was passed over, wondering if something was wrong with me or if I was unworthy of love. I’ve battled lust and a bottled-up sex drive. My hopes have been shattered and deferred. It gets harder to say, “It is not good for man to be alone,” with each passing year. I’m constantly told I’m a great guy, yet no woman seems to like me for long, if at all (unless they’re desperate).

I say all of that to say that I will be a countercultural married. I won’t forget singles or their plight. I’ll seek them out, talk to them, pray with them. I’ll validate their desires and advise them on how to fulfill them. Valentine’s Day won’t be a day where my wife and I go on an overly elaborate date. It will be a day where I invite all the singles I know to my house for a party, and we will serve them. We’ll prepare food, play games, and talk about the struggles of single life. Why? Because I want them to know there’s at least one couple out there who wants to redeem this so-called “romantic” holiday and include singles in it. They won’t be forgotten because I was once one of them, and I wished the couples I knew wouldn’t leave me by the wayside.

Couples, will you do this for the singles you know, especially if they’re your friends, this Valentine’s Day?

Blog

Nothing Bad Happens to a Writer

In college, my writing professor shared an interesting quotation with his students (a line I’ve just learned was said by novelist Philip Roth): “Nothing bad happens to a writer. Everything is material.” I didn’t take it too seriously at the time. It just seemed like an extension of the old writer’s mantra, “Write what you know.”

Not long after that, Taylor University Fort Wayne (my alma mater) was visited by Jerry B. Jenkins, author of the then-popular Left Behind books. He gave a special lecture to all the students of the communications department. One thing he said has stuck with me in the decade since. He admitted that he’d had a comparatively “easy” life—and lamented that that meant his “writing well” wasn’t as deep as others’. I was surprised by this, to say the least. Not that I was a huge fan of his writing (I tried reading the first Left Behind book and got bored after two chapters), but it seemed a little strange.

I don’t like getting too personal on this site. I had a blog for that for a long time (not anymore), but I often thought I revealed too much there. I like maintaining a certain level of privacy, especially since I’m in a position to become a public figure.

That being said, I’ve faced the greatest trials of my life since college. I’ve struggled to find work. I’ve lost jobs. I’ve had several painful break-ups. I’ve scraped by on little money. That’s just a few of my tribulations.

Twice I’ve gone to a pastor I’ve known all my life for counseling. I don’t mean I saw him on two occasions—I mean I’ve twice gone to him once a week for several months. During both of those times, he told me the same thing: “I think this is to make you a better writer.” I was frozen in shock. On one hand, I wanted my suffering to end. On the other, I wanted to be a better writer.

If you study an artist’s works enough, you can get to know them. His worldview bleeds through. His thoughts, emotions, and philosophies are the metaphysical raw materials he uses to create the work. People gravitate toward certain artists or works because they can identify with them; they have a kinship with them, just like they would with friends and family.

For example, I identified with Clark Kent from Smallville because for a long time I felt like that show was a superhero version of my life. Clark was raised with old-fashioned values in a small Midwest town; he had trouble talking to the girl he liked; he was betrayed by his best friend (Lex Luthor); and he often suffered for doing the right thing. (I won’t say more for the sake of privacy). I doubt that show would’ve had the potency it did unless the creators had experienced similar things themselves. You can’t fake something like that.

The same is true of my own stories. I often use them to try to make sense of my own life. I fill them with disguised versions of my own questions, longings, and disappointments. Honestly, I often wrestle with God in them. But this usually happens subconsciously. My journal is where I do intentional (and often Hamlet-esque) introspection. Regardless, I don’t think I would’ve written the stories I have if not for my life experience.

These stories aren’t just for me, though. Heck, I wouldn’t even say they’re primarily for me. They’re for you, my readers. Each one is, in a way, an invitation for you to examine your own life and find answers to your questions. I may not always have answers for you, but they can inspire you to take a journey of discovery. You may see a piece of yourself in one of my characters. You may identify with one of my plotlines. However it happens, consider it a service I offer you besides simple entertainment. (And if that’s all you get out of them, then I helped you escape from your problems for a short time).

Who knows, I may save you thousands in therapy bills.