Jack Cavanaugh's WORD FORGE

Earning a Rep

Joseph, a Levite from Cyprus, whom the apostles called Barnabas
(which means Son of Encouragement), sold a field he owned
and brought the money and put it at the apostles' feet.
                                                                                                  — Acts 4:36-37

HIS NAME WAS JOSEPH, but everyone knew him as The Encourager. It was a name born of a reputation.

It was Barnabas who took a chance on the newly converted Paul, ushering him into the midst of a roomful of disciples. It was a gutsy move. If Paul's conversion had been a ruse Barnabas would have handed over Christianity's core leadership to their greatest enemy, and the name Barnabas would be synonymous with Benedict Arnold. But Barnabas did what Barnabas’s do. He encouraged. If he hadn’t, there might not have been an Apostle Paul.

Eventually Paul overshadowed Barnabas. There is no indication that Barnabas was troubled by this. I think that's what I like best about him. It has been said that the hardest instrument to play is second fiddle. But without second fiddle players, there is no harmony.

What’s in a nickname? Or, to paraphrase Shakespeare:
Stinky, by any other nickname, would smell just as bad.

Other disciples had nicknames. Most notably, James and John, who were dubbed the Sons of Thunder. Maybe the fact that they asked Jesus to call down fire from heaven and destroy a Samaritan village for refusing them passage had something to do with it.

A nickname can be a shortened version of your proper name, an endearment, or a term of derision. While your proper name is given to you by your parents long before you begin exhibiting distinguishing characteristics, a nickname is often bestowed by others based on observation (rightly or wrongly).

Do you have a nickname? Are you happy with it? If not, why not try this — make up a nickname for yourself, a name you would like others to call you. Don't tell anybody. Then, start acting in a way that is true to the nickname you've chosen for yourself. Be patient. It takes a while to earn a reputation, to earn the right to wear your nickname. But with persistence, trust me, that day will come.

Linking Minds Across Space and Time

 

 

 

 

 

READING IS SPOOKY. So spooky, in fact, there was a time when reading silently—something every elementary school child is taught to do today—was considered witchcraft.

A brief history of storytelling will explain:

The first stories were spoken, told around campfires, by illiterate bards to an illiterate audience, and passed from generation to generation through repeated telling. (It seems that even in ancient times evening entertainment was plagued by reruns.) The telling of stories was mystical. Men would gather around the fire as the storyteller's words conjured up images in their minds as if by magic.

Stories took on shape and color when the ancients began illustrating them with paintings on cave walls. But the visuals lacked significant detail, such as the names of heroes and significant places. Storytellers filled in the gaps. (Think slide shows and PowerPoint presentations.) Paintings provided something stories told around the campfire lacked. Permanency.

Then, storytelling took a quantum leap forward as glyphs morphed into words, combining the detail of the spoken story with the permanency of cave paintings. Stories recorded on vellum and parchment could be told with precision, each telling the same as before.

That's when something spooky happened.

Flash Fiction

 

The

Missing

Piece

Weary of life and living, my world no longer made sense.
A friend noticed. He handed me a gray cardboard box.

I lifted the lid.
    “There must be a thousand puzzle pieces in here!”
    “Trust me, it’ll help.”

I shoved the box back at him.
    “I don’t have time for games.”
    “Life is no game. Call me when you’re ready.”
    “You mean, when I’m finished.”
    “I mean, when you’re ready.”

I dumped the pieces on the dining room table. A montage of images began to appear— Protestors thrusting guns at heaven. Trembling towers on fire. Swollen-bellied children, food for flies. A yellow-taped crime scene. An infant’s funeral.

Compared to these, my troubles paled. Was I to feel better for this?

I called my friend.
    “This isn’t helping.”
    “Do you see where grace fits in?”
    “Grace? There’s no grace in this puzzle!”
    “You’re not ready. Call me when you’re ready.”

Weeks passed. A dozen times I moved to clear the table. Something wouldn’t let me. The puzzle took shape, piece by disturbing piece.

And then, it made sense. I phoned my friend.
    “I understand!”
    “It’s complete?”
    “There’s one piece missing.”
    “I’ll be right over.”

Together we pondered the turmoil of the images.
In the center of the puzzle was a cross-shaped hole.

My friend said,
    “It’s the only way to make sense of this world.”
    “The missing piece…do you have it?”

With outstretched hand, he offered me the cross.

Writing Long Fiction

The Allure of Plus-size Novels

 

You can't get a cup of tea big enough or a book long enough to suit me.
                                                                                  —C. S. Lewis

My sentiments as well, only substitute coffee for tea.

Lewis and I aren’t alone. Whole herds of bookstore browsing readers are attracted to the width of a book’s spine, the larger the better. Apparently there’s still a place in this skinny-obsessed world for plus-size books.

As a writer, I prefer writing long fiction. I tend to think in stories 120,000 words long (approximately 480 pages) in a time when publishers are wanting books of 90,000 words. My American Family Portrait Series comprises nine hefty volumes, or 1,230,600 words. My Songs in the Night trilogy totals 334,500 words, or approximately 1,340 pages. Like I said, I like long stories.

So what are some of the things I've learned about writing long fiction?

iPad - Why All the Fuss?

I'll admit it, the iPad is impressive. This is both its strength and its weakness.

The machine was designed to impress. I don't know a single person who has seen a demonstration of the iPad who has not said, "Wow!" But it doesn’t last, and once the novelty wears off the iPad is little more than a precocious two-year-old tugging at your pant leg, jumping up and down shouting, "Look at me! Look at me! Look what I can do!"

But then, this is exactly what the iPad was designed to do.

Compare this to the e-book. Like it's paper counterpart, the e-book is at its best when it becomes invisible, when you’re not aware you’re reading words on a screen and turning pages, when you’re not even aware you’re holding a device in your hands.

This is what an e-book is designed to do.

While the iPad is busy calling attention to itself, the e-book subtly interfaces with another device of truly remarkable computing power — the human brain.

This is where the iPad is quickly outclassed. It's paltry A4 processor operating at 1GHz (1,000 MHz) cannot begin to compare to the human brain that is estimated to operate at the equivalent of a 168,000 MHz computer chip, processing 100 million instructions per second.

Plug that baby into an internalized, multidimensional surround-screen with — not just sight and sound, but — five sensory inputs and an emotional generator, run a bit of author code (words) and like magic you’re instantly transported to a different world. It’s an experience like no other. You’re not just watching something on a screen, you’re actually living it.

Talk about WOW! This is the reading experience.

True, while you’re in those other worlds you can't check your e-mail. Chalk one up for iPad.