Jody and I are moving ever closer to publishing a book titled, tentatively, â€œâ€™Tween Two Worldsâ€”the submitted life of a pilgrim warrior.â€ It seems to us that this blog might make the perfect venue for releasing bits of the manuscript, and then, later for use as the site for the bookâ€™s web presence. Weâ€™re told that is a good idea if youâ€™re going to self publish, which we are.
Weâ€™ve shopped the book around to commercial publishers who have been encouraging about the writing and all, but had misgivings about trying to sell a book about submission. Well, they are interested in the bottom line, after all, and the Christian book industry is a money making operation so I guess we shouldnâ€™t expect much different. Furthermore, commercial publishers have bought many venerable Christian publishing imprints. Makes you wonder what kind of books are available in the bookstores. Are they â€œGod booksâ€ or are they sure-fire sellers? The two arenâ€™t necessarily the same, donâ€™t you knowâ€¦You gotta wonder.
So, hereâ€™s part of the prologue:
Call it instinct. Or natural knowledge. Call it a primal hunch. Whatever it is, it shows up all over in legend and literature, in the stories we tell, even in the movies we fork out nearly ten bucks to go see. Throughout the narrative tradition of the human race there are references to worlds unseen, known only in part, tantalizingly close yet just out of reach. There are tales of unknown beings and unnatural powers.Why are those references so pervasive? Are we humans just imaginative creatures that happen to return to the same themes over and over? Or does that give us too much credit? Maybe what we call fantasy really descends from what could be called the â€œmeta-narrativeâ€ of the universe. Elves and angels; orcs and demons. The rebellion of Star Warsâ€”may the Force be with you. The interface of worlds in The Matrix.Our imagination? Human creativity? Or is there a suggestion woven into the soul of the human race, a yearning to know of things invisibleâ€”a longing to be somehow whole again. Maybe thatâ€™s why we write about it and imagine it. We call it fantasy. On the other hand, it could be evidence that our souls are like restless fish, aching to return to the very headwaters of creation. What might we find there?