JOURNAL: July 21, 2003
Nothing New Under the Sun

     The writer of Ecclesiastes claimed that there was nothing new under the sun. Some 2500 years later, Sting would use that thought as a title for a CD. In finishing Charles Williams' novel "The Place of the Lion" I am left, amid a myriad of other reflections (as is oft the case when I read a Williams' novel) with that quote running through my head. It came only in the last pages of the book, when order is being restored from chaos in a vision of the primeval Garden, and the presence of a firey pillar of fire blocking the gateway between the world of the Mortal and that of the Immortal.
      It brought to mind my own, long dormant, over-revised manuscript of "The Divine Fire" which was originally titled "Beyond the Pale." (That original is being serialized here at Gotthammer) The pillar of fire that Williams' refers to is the sword of the archangel Uriel, which guards the gatewar to Eden. It is a central element in "The Divine Fire." It was another reminder that creatively, there is nothing new under the sun. We make, as Tolkien believed, in the fashion in which we are made. The central theme of "The Place of the Lion" is Archetype, that all of reality finds it's ground in a singular Reality which has created us and placed in that creation certain immutable elements such as Strength, Subtlety, Speed, and Mercy. It is from these archetypes I believe that we create. Good stories engage these archetypes and weave a web that catch the reader of viewer up in a moment of ecstasy.

     I wrote my first 'book' in grade 2. I dictated, my mother typed dutifully. I can't remember the exact title, but it was something to the effect of "Dr So-and-so's Amazing Monsters." It was a blatant rip off of some black and white B-grade atomic monstrosities flick where a spider grows to immense size and terrorizes local residential areas. The salamander and iguana of my tale did the same, and in the tradition of the great Japanese monster movies, gained the ability to breathe fire. I was creating from elements I had seen on television or at a Saturday afternoon matinee.

     I wrote a lot of short stories as a kid, and my second book was written in Grade 4 after seeing the second Star Wars installment, "The Empire Strikes Back" and the campy 80's remake of "Flash Gordon." Combining these two films, the first owing much to the latter as a foundation, I created my own space opera, "Flash Rogers." Again, a blatant rip off, but this time I made some greater leaps in my own creative embellishments. While the story took place on an ice planet where the heroes rode around on Tauntaun-like beasts, and the hero bore a striking resemblance to Sam J. Jones, the threat came from an approaching asteroid of Apocalyptic aperature. I predated both Deep Impact and Armageddon, but have chosen not to launch a lawsuit. (this owing largely to how hard my wife laughed when I read her portions of Flash Rogers a few Christmases ago, shortly after unearthing it from a box of keepsakes in my parents' garage.)
     My next book was inspired by Tolkien, a multi-scribbler epic entitled "The Jewelette" which involved a race of diminuitively statured hobbit-like creatures called Elforrits going on a journey to retrieve a powerful jewel. I had made a great leap of personal inspiration in not having them go a on a journey to destroy said jewel. Sadly, this classic has been lost to a garbage heap, or perhaps my parents' basement, which with the piles of things my mother can't bring herself to throw away looks strangely like the archives of Gondor from the beginning of the Rings' film series.
     In the years to come, I strayed away from out and out imitation and moved on to what I considered more original creation. Sadly, when I began playing music, my writing and drawing fell to the wayside. I pursued a career in music for 12 years, and in that time only wrote one piece, the aforementioned "Beyond the Pale." I worked on commissioned scripts and batted ideas around with my creative community, but at the end of the day, only really had 'Flash Rogers' to show for it, thanks to my mom's archive of our school day achievements.
     Over the years, I have ached to write a novel and have it published. When I read 'Flash Rogers' to my wife that Christimas, something welled up in me; memories of High School teachers who praised my writing ability and told me to keep working in that field. Another memory of a college English professor who nearly killed my desire to ever write anything again. The frustration of 'chasing a dream' for 12 years, with only a few independent CD releases to show for it when we played our final concert. The fear of 'chasing a dream' again when I'm over 30 and wanting to start a family.
     And really, if there's nothing new under the sun, then what's the point in creating anything anyway?
     I'm not sure, but I'm about to take another leap of faith, one that scares the hell out of me. My mentor says this a good thing, which is always easy to say about someone else. Me, I'm petrified.
    Over the past two months I have wrestled more actively with the desire that burns within me to create through writing than ever before. Two weeks ago Jenica helped me solidify my options, and I have pretty much decided that I want to pursue a career in writing. Not journalism, but writing. I want to write books, but I'll write articles and short stories in the meantime as well. I feel a little like the guy from 'The Rookie'. I used to be a contender, but it's been a long time since I've flexed the creative muscles in this area. Those of you who visit the website regularly and have given kudos for my writing have been part of my cheering section, saying indirectly, "You really ought to try out for the major leagues."
     I've already had mixed responses. My parents were very supportive, as they always have been. My closest friends have given their thumbs-up as well. I had a long talk with creative-kindred spirit Mark Vandenberg from Greenbay camp about the damning nature of being really good at too many things, and all those things can't get you a 'real job.' My sister put it this way; "It's who you are, right?" Right.
     It still scares the hell out of me. An acquaintance of Jenica's commented that she must really love me to put up with this sort of thing. She really does, and just so everyone is clear, I do appreciate it. All the same, "this sort of thing" is who I was made to be. Where does everyone think the creative giants come from? You can't have a bestselling novel if you never take the time to write the damned thing. And there just aren't enough Cinderella stories for me to believe I'll do it in my spare time. I don't have animated mice to type my manuscripts for me while I run around attending to a 'real job.' I need to put time and work into it.
     I'll be keeping my day job, both for financial reasons because we need the money, and integrity, as I promised Holyrood three years of service. So if any of you are reading this, I'm not quitting. Just getting a second job. And, as I said to a good friend last night, "I'm starting my new job on Tuesday."
    The Bible might contain that somewhat cynical adage that there's nothing new under the sun, but there's another line from the book of Jeremiah that resonates rather powerfully with me; it goes something to the effect of having words within me, that are like a fire that I must let out.
    I'm letting the fire out. The Divine Fire, and so much more.