Dancing Priest

Author and Novelist Glynn Young

Writing

How Many Writer Hats Do You Wear a Day?

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The hats we writers wear can seem awfully heavy.

The hat we wear every day is the writer’s hat. This is what we do. This is what we’re about. We’re here to tell a story, and that can be difficult enough. It looks like a baseball cap.

We learn to write by listening, memorizing, and repetition. We learn writing by doing writing. We don’t sit time the first time and write stories effortlessly. We wrestle with our plots and themes. We fight and argue with our characters. We imagine scenes in our minds long before someone else reads the scene on a page of text. We’re perfectionists, because we’re not satisfied until we get it exactly right. And while we write, we occasionally have to add a few additional hats – like fact-checker, editor, and researcher. This is the bowler hat of writing.

To continue reading, please see my post today at the American Christian Fiction Writers blog.

Photograph by Joshua Coleman via Unsplash. Used with permission.

A Predictive Manuscript

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My wife has told me that the Dancing Priest novels can sometimes feel creepy because, well, I write the story, and some of things, or similar things, happen in real life. Not long ago, I wrote a post about something specific that happened after Dancing Prophet was published, but there are examples from all five of the books.

She has what I think is a good explanation for this. My reading ranges all over the social, cultural, and political landscapes. Everything I read is potentially research for the books, and I become aware of things happening, things potentially happening, and events that almost happen. When something real does occur, it can look as if I predicted it in a book.

I’ve discovered that this can even happen when I’m in the middle of a manuscript. 

I’m almost 30,000 words into a new novel. It’s something completely different than what I’ve written before. The setting is a lot closer to home than the Dancing Priest novels, and it’s generally along the lines of a coming-of-age story, told by a boy whose family goes through a convulsion that tears the family apart.

Life gets intense when I’m writing like this. I take walks, and I’m working through scenes. I’m in the shower, and I’m rewriting a conversation to add something it needs. I’m at the grocery store, wondering what one of the characters would be buying. I’m driving, and I go out of my way to get a close look at a house that might fit a setting in the story. Everything I read in the newspaper or online is potential grist.

On Wednesday, I opened the newspaper as I usually do when I drink my coffee. The newspaper has become easier to read over time; you can look at a headline or the first paragraph of a story and know almost instantly whether you’re reading news or an editorial disguised as news. (I skip a lot of what goes in the newspaper these days.)  On an inside page there was a local story involving a school and a lawsuit. A fairly lengthy story, I was surprised that it was written as straight news. I was even more surprised when I started reading the last third of the story. It read like it was lifted from my manuscript. 

I could not have predicted these real events described in the story. But I’ve been doing enough reading and research to know that what I was writing about was certainly possible. Things like it have been happening in other places. And now it had gone beyond possibility in my own community. 

In my story, a student is accused of a crime at school. The accusation goes public. The news media, social media, parents, and school officials all assume the child’s guilt. Conventions and laws about media not naming minors involved in crimes are mown down in the eagerness to get the story. Adults and officials who are supposed to care about due process and facts disregard both in their rush for public virtue. And a family is destroyed in the process. 

The heart of the story is about what it takes to bring healing, even when some things can’t be healed. 

It’s not the big sprawling story of the kind that characterize the Dancing Priest novels. It’s about one family in one community and how people and children can be damaged in the tug of war of politics and ideology.

They say life imitates art. It may be more a case of art mirrors life and art mirrors things that can be expected to happen. This is not an easy story to write. It’s also not an easy story to live. And some people are living it. 

Top photograph by Andreas Brunn, middle photograph by Waldemar Brandt, both via Unsplash. Used with permission.

How Long Do You Write Before Writing It Down?

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I spent almost four years writing my first novel before I put a single word on screen or paper.

Writing a novel wasn’t intentional. A song had captured my imagination, a single image formed in my mind, and gradually a story unfolded to accompany that song and image – all in my imagination. I mentally nursed the story for years, changing the characters, adding scenes, and altering the story line.

How you imagine a story, or create it in your imagination, is very different than what happens when it’s time to actually write the story. In my case, what I was imagining was a cinematic story, moving from scene to scene while developing a story line. Writing that down had two benefits: it forced the story out of my head and on to the screen, and it made me realize how big the gaps in the story were. 

I could imagine a character participating in a bike race, for example, and gloss over the details in my mind. But to read it on the screen showed the gaps and shortcomings. It was missing color and depth. The imagined account has left out the emotion, because I could imagine the emotion in my mind. It took six years of rewriting to get the draft to a point where it not only made sense but also told a complete story. 

To continue reading, please see my post today at the ACFW blog. 

Photograph by Mitchell Hartley via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Meet a Dancing Novels Reader

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He won’t remember, but I first met Randy Mayfield in the gymnasium of Central Christian School in the early 1990s, located across the street from Central Presbyterian Church, where Randy was on staff. I was a part of a non-denominational program called the Salt & Light Fellowship, and Randy was one of the movers behind it. With his guitar, he led us in songs, including one called “Lord, Don’t Send Me to Africa.” And I thought, who knew Presbyterians could be funny?

Ten years or so later, I was attending Central Presbyterian (still my church now), and Randy was still on staff, leading one of the church’s most successful outreaches – missions. The program involved a host of countries, an outreach to the St. Louis County Jail and a prison outside of St. Louis, schools and universities, a seminary, and more. 

Randy believed in hands-on ministry, and he maintained a travel schedule that was exhausting just to read: Honduras, India, Philippines, Iraq, Ukraine, Russia, France, Italy, Hungary, Albania, Israel, Guatemala, Haiti, Cuba, Kenya, Sweden, Albania, Argentina, Mexico, Indonesia, Portugal, South Africa, Poland, Thailand, Tanzania, and a few places that can’t be mentioned because it would jeopardize people’s safety. He also led numerous vision trips for church members, for them to see first-hand what was happening. 

Randy Mayfield performing

At some point, Randy heard about Dancing Priest. He bought the Kindle version and read it while flying to some far-flung mission field (I think it was Iraq). He came a fan of the series, and the five novels about Michael Kent-Hughes have traveled all over the globe. He talked the series up with other church members, and others began to read it, creating still more fans.

Authors know what that does. Yes, it sells some books. But it also touches an author’s heart. 

Randy has now published his own book, One Life, and I’ve reviewed it on my Faith, Fiction, Friends blog. It’s part autobiography and part stories about some remarkable things that have happened with church missions. He’s also a husband to Sharon, a father to Amanda and Justin, and a grandfather to a little girl named Afton who owns him and soon to be a grandfather again to Afton’s brother. 

Randy does concerts; he can sing rock, country, and just about anything else, including Nessun Dorma. He’s had a band, called the All-Star Band, that’s performed in St. Louis and all over the world (my tenuous claim to fame with it is that my next-door neighbor is the band’s saxophonist). He’s performed at the Grand Ole Opry, and he’s opened concerts for Stephen Curtis Chapman, Jaci Valesquez, and the Imperials. 

He’s been a chaplain to the St. Louis Cardinals. He’s come under military gunfire while on mission trips. He’s met with presidents and paupers, and if you know Randy, you know he treats them exactly the same – with a handshake, a smile, a laugh, a hug, and a song.

Randy’s retiring as Missions & Outreach pastor at Central Presbyterian; he gave an official farewell sermon this past Sunday (it won’t be his last sermon; Randy doesn’t retire from ministry). But it’s gratifying and encouraging to know him, and it’s been encouraging to know how much he’s liked the stories of Michael Kent-Hughes. 

Top photograph by Paola Chaaya via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Giving a Minor Character a Bigger Role

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The character of David Hughes, twin brother of Sarah Hughes, has been a part of the Dancing Priest series from the beginning. In Dancing Priest, the first novel, it was David who had decided to do a study year abroad in Scotland, dragging his sister along with him. David was the scholar in the family, and at the University of Edinburgh he was studying Scottish history. Because of a fire at his dormitory, David ends up rooming with Michael Kent and Tommy McFarland, even though they’re two years older. And it’s Tommy’s girlfriend Ellen who fixes David up on a blind date with Betsy, whom he’d eventually marry.

The character of David Hughes served as something of a counterpoint to Michael and Tommy. They’ve been friends since they were six years old and have roomed together at St. Andrews during their entire time at university. David is the quiet American, the scholarly outsider, contrasting with the outgoing McFarland and the self-confident and often-quite-candid Michael. McFarland is an outspoken champion of Scotland and Scottish independence; David is the young man who’s been in love with Scotland from afar and is now living exactly where he wants to live.

David and Sarah experience family upheaval when their father turns his back and cuts off all communication with them and their older brother Scott, a doctor in San Francisco. As a result, the Hughes twins spend Christmas at McLarens, the home of Ian and Iris McLaren, the guardians for Michael. While there, David helps Ian, an equine veterinarian, deliver a foal.

David has very small roles in the next three books in the series, but I always felt he deserved something more. The opportunity for that arrived with Dancing Prince. 

Some 30 years have passed since the first novel. David is a history professor at the University of St. Andrews. He and Betsy have two now-grown children. Over the years, it is David who has become a key figure in the life of Thomas Kent-Hughes, the youngest of Michael and Sarah’s children. 

As Michael grows more estranged from Tommy, David unintentionally helps to fill the gap, to the point where Tommy feels closer to his uncle than to his own father. Early in the story, Tommy and his father experience one of the many crises in their relationship, and it’s to David in St. Andrews to whom Tommy flees from London. When it’s time for college, Tommy will select St. Andrews, and a large part of the reason is that David teaches there. 

In many significant ways, Tommy becomes part of the Hughes family, and he clearly feels more comfortable with his uncle than with his father. Tommy looks more like his uncle than he does Michael, and he’s often mistaken for David’s son. They share a love of scholarship, and early on David is guiding Tommy in his pursuit of Norse and Icelandic languages. And it’s a reciprocal relationship. When David’s own son experiences a breakdown, it’s Tommy to whom David turns for help. 

The character of David was a quiet, stabilizing one from the beginning. Those characters rarely get center stage in stories and novels. Dancing Prince offered the opportunity to bring David out of the background and give him a significant part in the story. And, as it turns out, it will be a crucial part that he plays. Michael will eventually tell Tommy that he owes David a debt he can never repay, “for being there for you when I wasn’t.” David is something of an unsung hero of the Dancing Priest stories, and it was gratifying to give him his due. 

Top photograph by Shipman Northcutt via Unsplash. Used with permission.

Did “Dancing Prophet” Become Prophetic?

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In 2012, I had a conversation with my publisher about the future novels planned in the Dancing Priest series. Dancing Priest had been published in late 2011, and the publication of A Light Shining was imminent. I walked him through what I saw as the main subjects and themes of several additional books (another six, if I remember correctly, which eventually became another three). 

The fourth book was to focus on the conflict between Michael Kent-Hughes and the Church of England hierarchy, which would eventually lead to a reformation. The catalyst would be a child sexual abuse scandal, happening over decades and facilitated (as in, covered up) by the church. The inspiration for this was the scandal in the Roman Catholic Church; what I did was to transfer the Catholic scandal to the Church of England. Or so I thought.

Two weeks after that conversation, my publisher sent me an article that had just been published in Britain. It looked like the Church of England had its own, homegrown child abuse scandal, and didn’t need any fictional help from the Catholic church. 

Dancing Prophet, the fourth novel in the Dancing Priest series, was published in 2018. That year, more revelations were unfolding about the Church of England. In 2019, an independent inquiry was established to look at what had happened and why. Last week, the inquiry panel released its study. 

It sounded like the story line in Dancing Prophet. My wife says I need to stop writing about things that become true.

It gives me no particular joy that real events seem to follow several of the key events in the Dancing Priest stories. (Sometimes, the correlations aren’t horrific, like the DNA study made of Vikings that sounded a lot like what happens in Dancing Prince.) But it does seem uncanny at times. I don’t have the gift of prophecy, but I’ve asked myself, how do real events happen that mirror the stories I wrote in my five novels?

I don’t have a solid answer. I have an idea of what happens, and it has to do with the research I do for the stories and the work experience I’ve had.

The Dancing Priest novels are not historical novels in the strict sense. They’re not about the past. They are more futurehistorical novels, because they’re set in the soon-to-happen future. (One reviewer has called them alternative historical novels.) But they are based on considerable reading and research and first-hand experiences on visits to London and England.

The streets Sarah’s car has to take from Buckingham Palace to the Tate Britain (Dancing Prophet)? I’ve walked them. The visit Michael makes with the two boys to the Imperial War Museum and the Guards Museum Shop (Dancing Prince)? I’ve done both. Taking a train from King’s Cross Station (Dancing Prince)? Been there, done that. A tube ride from South Kensington to the Tower of London (Dancing King)? Yep. And the books I’ve read have ranged from Peter Ackroyd’s multi-volume History of England and a history of coronations to a domestic history of the British royal household and a history of the Church of England.

My work experience has also served as a resource. Working for two Fortune 500 companies, a Fortune 1000 company, a public institution, a newspaper, and my own business has taught me a lot about how organizations respond to crises. Almost by default, the initial response is self-protection. The ongoing response tends to be self-protection. And that response can put public relations people in very difficult positions. The fact that the Church of England responded to its child sex abuse crisis almost exactly like the Roman Catholic Church did is no surprise.

You don’t have to be a prophet when basic human nature never changes. 

Top photograph by Cajeo Zhang via Unsplash. Used with permission.