Requiem for an Inspiration...
In a pivotal scene, at the end of If Only You Knew, a character named Sam steps up on a stage and turns his heart inside-out with gut-wrenching honesty. (If you haven’t read the book yet, I won’t spoil the surprise).
I often say that several real-life people inspire the creation of each character. Some in big ways. Some in tiny ways. Many in ways that they will never know.
But that particular scene was inspired by a testimony a friend named Dave gave in my old church when he was about 19. He had a sharp wit, a keen mind, and an interesting sense of humor – but it was his earnest and vulnerable honesty that day which brought tears to my eyes and encouraged my own faith.
That friend died recently. In deeply tragic circumstances.
Real life is much messier than fiction. In a novel we expect to understand the plot. We expect that all mysteries about the characters will be revealed. We expect that ultimately the story will make sense.
We may want all those things in real life too – but all too often, we do not get them.
When writing If Only You Knew it was really important to me that none of my characters were perfect.
I have no perfect friends. I know no perfect people. I am far from perfect.
And so I sat down and created a bunch of people like me – flawed and foolish, broken and lost – but ultimately able to find a spiritual faith that makes sense in the middle of it all.
We live in an imperfect world. We go to imperfect churches and sit next to imperfect people.
And in the middle of all that we need a spiritual reality that’s strong enough – and honest enough – to make a difference.
Confessions of an Occasional Failure... (September 1,2009)
Maybe you need to have had your heart broken. Maybe you need to have your dreams crushed. Maybe you need to have been angry, and tired, and helpless, and guilty, and lost, before you have anything worth writing about.
Fighting with myself... (March 27,2009)
The “push and pull” between the “bitter atheist” (Sam) and the “impatient man of faith” (Nate) was born out of an argument. A fight. A bitter, angry, no holds barred battle, one Sunday morning at my church in
Toronto. That took place inside my own heart.
Yes, I am naturally a disaster... (February 23, 2009)
The wonderful thing about becoming a writer is that you can suddenly take all those horribly embarrassing moments from your past that you wished you’d never, ever lived through, and turn them into fiction.
Everyone’s life is ugly – Lyf told me – it’s just that few people are open about that ugliness. People think acting means putting on a mask – pretending you are something you are not. But in reality it’s taking off masks. Showing people some of the brokenness inside you. It’s true for writing too...