Writing about belief
While I am a Christian and a writer, I'm not what most people would consider a "Christian writer." The themes of faith and redemption in my work are not particularly overt or obtrusive, and they're not framed in specifically Christian terms. But they're there.
A lot of speculative-fiction writers incorporate the problem of faith into their work, precisely because it is a problem: it's a constant tension, even antagonism, between what is seen and unseen, what is agreed to or virulently denied, what you want and what you got. Those are human tensions, and they exist in pretty much everyone, regardless of the specifics of the beliefs. Inventing a new religion is one technique for looking at the ideas of faith and despair, the power of the individual and the power of the community, and — yes — the possibility of a transcendent, ineffable, even personal power in the universe. Very useful for the thoughtful writer.
Which is why I was interested to find this article on writing about religion. It advocates, above all, that such writing is not about the religion itself, it's about the people who believe it (or, sometimes violently, don't). The writer asserts:
"When writing about religion, it is not the suspension of disbelief we should strive for, but rather the elevation of empathy over agreement."
Writers of courage and compassion will rise above the need to make someone (or themselves) feel right or wrong. Instead, they will show their readers the amazing beauty and tragedy and hope that comes with belief. And that's just as true when writing about the bizarre toe-worshipping cult of Outer Greeble IV as it is when looking a little closer to home.
posted by Laura E. Goodin @ 7:26 AM (permalink)
2 comment(s)
2 Comments:
OK, I'm going to do something really obnoxious here, and indulge in a little self-reference... 'cause I'm too lazy to write something original, but too ashamed to claim that I came up with this just now on the spur of the moment:
Belief starts by being made. “Make believe” is something we all know how to do, even if it has been decades since we engaged in its practice. Scientists do this all the time; they just do not call it “make believe.” Instead, they call it “postulation,” which sounds much more impressive. Much of what we know about the physical universe started out as postulation, as imagining—making believe—and seeing where it led.all this inspired by the great Ursula K. LeGuin, a self-avowed athiest whose writing has articulated more about faith, for me, than any European theologian I came across in seminary.
yours in the struggle,
Max
I have always found LeGuin's sense of the intangible deeply moving and inspiring, whether or not it came from a theistic place.
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