If I Were to Write BAD Catholic Fiction

Earlier this month, I was part of a Faith in Fiction panel at the Catholic Writers Conference Live.  What a fun group!  You know the panel is a success when two panelists get applauded for showing up late, and we came away with a great in-joke (that I intend to milk next year.)  Anyway, one of the questions moderator Joe Wetterling asked was, "If you had to write a bad Catholic fiction novel, what might it look like?"

I gave a funny, quick synopsis, playing on cliches, but it grew in my head over the week, so here, for your reading pleasure is "Snakenami of Salvation."

We open in a dimly lit but lovely chapel, where a woman kneels before the statue of the Virgin Mother.  The candlelight reflects off the streaks of tears on her face as she begs Blessed Mary to bring her son back to the Church.  You see, her son is Steeped in Sin, and she fears for his life and his soul.  After much explaining of her son's background (known in writing circles as DATA DUMP), the priest comes and offers her pithy words of comfort.

Cut to son hanging out with his best friend.  We immediately see that bestie is EVIL, the true villain of the story.  He obviously has no redeeming values, and the only way he could possible have friends is through lies and deceit (and maybe bribes) because he's so EVIL. The son, our hero (of course) cannot see this because he's so Steeped in Sin.  (I would be sure to hammer that home:  he's Steeped in Sin.  Don't forget.)  Oh, but I should show this, right?  So they pass an abortion clinic where they heckle the Pro-Lifers praying there.  Naturally, they have no arguments for a pro-choice stance, just epiteths, and the pro-lifers respond by praying anew for them--especially the one beautiful lady with the dark eyes that reach into our hero's soul, but of course, his EVIL friend pulls him away before he can get her name.  They'll stop and chat with a Baptist preacher who really just wants everyone to feel good about themselves, but does a great Fire-and-Brimstone sermon begging people to reform and come to Jesus who will love them as long as they say they are Christian and donate to his church.  (He dips into the collection plate.)  They share a few nasty words about those idolater Catholics, whereupon our hero gets quiet because he loves his mother, but can't defend her religion...because he's so Steeped in Sin, you see.

Meanwhile, Guardian Angels are discussing a plan of action to save our hero.  (Thanks, Regina Doman, for reminding me at the panel that we MUST have guardian angels.)  His particular angel is extremely cool, likes to waterski and ride speedboats when on Earth, but is on angelic probation.  Saving our hero is his chance to redeem himself...and so far, he's not done so well.  The girl at the clinic is actually his last shot, so he arranges for her and the hero to meet now and again.   Did I mention she's a scuba-diving herpetologist (snake expert)?  Concidence!  Hero dives, too, and kept snakes as a kid. They'll fall in love yet keep their distance from each other because she is so Very Good Catholic, like his mother, and he's so Steeped in Sin.

Rather than bore you (and me) with more details, let's skip to the climax.  Global Warming, er Cooling, er CHANGE...whichever...has caused a series of tidal disasters across the world.  The Baptist is preaching that it's the beginning of the Apocalypse and telling everyone to prepare for the Rapture (and donate all their wealth to his church to continue its mission for those Left Behind, of course.)  Meanwhile, a tidal wave has upset the biggest nest of sea snakes in recorded history.  As the Snakenami heads to their town, our love interest gears up to do what she can to prevent the disaster.  As the villainous bestie abandons the hero in order to profit from the disaster, hero runs to help his lady love.  But, oh, no!  The military won't let him join her on her mission. Hero, driven by love and desperation, allows his mother to drag him to Church, where for the first time in a long time, he prays.

BOOM goes the Holy Spirit.

Through that small crack of love in his sin-hardened heart, God is able to flow into him.  He sees his sin, begs Father to hear his confession, and with new power from Goodness, rushes back to save his lady.  Go, hero, go!  Hooray, Heavenly Host!  This. Is. Roma!

Wouldn't you know, his guardian angel, who looks like the surfer dude he sometimes gives abuse to when on the docks, is still there, with an awesome boat and dive gear.  He offers him a ride.  They say the rosary as they speed to rescue his lady love (she's in trouble, naturally), and they laugh with excitement and the rush of the Holy Spirit working in them.

He dives into the water, saves the girl, stops the snakes. 

When they return to dry land, his bestie is there, hoping to profit from his friend's heroism.  He turns him in for his crimes; naturally, there's no evidence to link hero to them.  Hero and the girl have a big Catholic wedding, and again Momma is crying to the Virgin, but tears of gratitude.

In the epilogue, hero goes to visit bestie to tell him about God.

Writing Convincing Religions in a Fantasy World

I'm heading to the Catholic Writers Conference today, so it seems the perfect time to re-run this blog about faith in fiction.

This is the new cover art for Infinite Space, Infinite God I.

Incorporating the spiritual aspects of a character or the religious aspects of a setting or plot can enhance a story. However, done wrong and it can wreck a story.  Here are four pitfalls I see:

One, they are superficially portrayed and thus not really believable.  Rose Dimond gave a good example of this in our workshop at the 2008 MuseOnline Convention. In a critique group, one person told the story of a woman who was abused. She later became a priestess, and was able to "find peace" after murdering her abuser. The story flopped because, as Rose said, "Revenge is not generally recommended as the pathway to peace by the holy." On the other hand, Tarma, a character by Mercedes Lackey, gives herself to her goddess to become a warrior specifically so she can exact revenge on an entire tribe for the murder of her relatives--and it works.  The key lies in developing the religion sufficiently to convince the reader that the way to peace is by smiting one's enemies, permanently. 

Two, they are a blatant copy of an existing Earth religion. Jesus with green skin or tentacles is an obvious one. Less obvious would be a “Mother goddess” on a world of insectoids that hatch, alone and independent, from eggs.  Why would such creatures, who have no concept of "mother" by nature, develop such a religion? Just like a blind race would never develop the concept of visual color, so this species would not develop a religion around a nurturing motherly figure. They would worship God in some other image that they, by their nature, would understand. A great example of this is "Dyads" by Alan Loewen and Ken Pick. Their foxlike creatures, who mate for life, have their own trinity:  husband, wife and eternal dance.  

Three, religions are used, sometimes obviously, as a device for getting the author’s point across.  Unless you're writing for an audience that wants to be preached to creatively, this device turns readers off.  (Incidentally, the same goes for just about any "message" fiction.  Concentrate on the story, not the message.)

Four, religion is tossed in for “color” but otherwise never touches the characters or story. It's a rule in writing that if you don't need an object, a setting, a character, don't devote a lot of words to it, him or her. Do you spend a chapter talking about the chemical content of the Calaronderon Nebula if the ship is leaving that parsec, never to think about it again? Likewise, then why go on about the bizarre tree spore worship of the Elderbeera if it never impacts the story?

Certainly, the most obvious way to avoid these pitfalls is to write solid, engaging stories with complex characters for whom faith is part of their experience. Here, then, are some specifics to consider:

Is the faith logical to how your creatures experience the world? Think about their anatomy, their worldview, their philosophy. I know that sounds like you are creating God in your creature's image, but think of it this way: who your creatures are and how they relate to the world will have been influenced by their faith and their relationship to the Creator as they perceive it. God would not give underwater starfish creatures a revelation of a bipedal air-breathing savior who was nailed to a tree--how could they possible identify with that?
Have you given enough information to make us understand if not identify with the alien faith without overwhelming the story?  Gone are the days when readers will put up with five pages describing a sunset; so too, readers want the information that relates. If all you need is for your elf to say a prayer for strength in battle, you may not need to get into the pantheon of Elvish gods and goddesses, etc.  However, if you are chronicling the life of a monk-turned-king, you need more detail. Further, if you are going to do something outside the reader's experience of faith--like Rose's example last issue of the priestess who "found peace" after brutally murdering her attacker--then you need to provide enough background as far as information and attitude to make the action plausible.

Do you show more than one facet of the faith?  Think of religion as a character: like characters, faiths have attitudes, histories, codes of honor and conduct, things it will and will not tolerate. Quirks. Are you showing some of those facets, or have you fallen into the one- or two-dimensional character portrayal?

Is the religion needed for your story? Not all stories need a faith-based aspect or a portrayal of religion. If you have doubts about how the faith aspect is playing out, remove it and see if the story still flows. Where are the holes and why? If you have none, reconsider why you incorporated the religion and what you might do instead. I had one story submitted to ISIG II. It was a good story covering a serious issue, important to the writer and valuable to readers, but the religious aspect was shoehorned in to qualify for the anthology. The impact of the message was actually lost because the faith simply did not fit.

Do the faith and the character fit?  Let your character talk to you about the faith--outside of the story. Imagine a typical worship day for them. See what parts fit and what he, she, or it can't act out or believe in and why.

Religion can be a valuable and interesting part of worldbuilding.  It can give your story depth or a unique angle.  However, it needs to be integral to the story and believable in the universe you create.  When you achieve that, you give richness to your tale that readers will enjoy.