Writing Trends: Character Driven Narration

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Part of writing is developing a written voice. Some writers craft long sentences that string words together to paint a verbal picture. Others are believers in brevity. Still, others practice a happy medium. Personally, I lean away from the “clipped” tone of say Hemingway but also from the excessive descriptions of Melville.

Whatever style you prefer, you can see how writing styles have developed and changed over the last hundred years. It is a given that the novelist of our era must not be wordy. He cannot devote his paragraphs to lengthy descriptions of the location, or expositional descriptions of the characters themselves.  True, he may describe but indirectly. He cannot say “Bill was a tall man.” He can say, “Bella looked up at Bill, wondering slightly at his great height.”  Of course, the second is wordier than the first, but at least we can work into something productive like developing the personality of Bella (i.e. we show the reader that Bella is short).

Modern novelists are every bit as wordy and descriptive as their predecessors. What has changed, however, is the content. Older writers used more description for setting and characters in an attempt to give you a basic picture. Read an original Sherlock Holmes story, and you’ll notice how every time a client comes to see Sherlock Holmes, Watson gives a straightforward description – sex, gender, socio-economic position (poor, rich, middle-class) hair color and their fashion. Sometimes he gets more detailed but he hits the essentials in painting an impression in your mind. Contemporary writers describe feelings, emotions, and reactions. It might be a no-no to spend a few sentences telling the reader what Bill looks like. But by all means, let’s spend every other sentence describing his facial muscles, his feelings and his slightest physical movement.

This difference between writing methods flows from a larger style change I’ve observed in the literature of the last hundred and fifty years: a switch from external-narration to internal-narration. Let me write an example of each style, talking about the exact same character(s) and situation and then break down some of these differences I’ve found:

Example A: In the morning, Jack and Mary hit the road again, taking the exit for Highway 12.  The couple had the highway to themselves and the hours passed quietly as the enjoyed the open road and the sound of jazz over the radio. As the evening hours approached, a loud “pop” sounded from the rear of the car, and Jack pulled over.  He checked the rear and found both tires gashed. “Well that’s just dandy,” he said. “What now?” asked Mary.  What indeed. They had only one spare, of course. According to the map, the nearest city lay another thirty miles northeast, the nearest gas station eighteen miles behind them.  With any luck, they could thumb a ride but luck had been against them so far. The solitude of the desert highway which delighted them earlier had just become their enemy. Inside the car, Mary examined the map. Her eyes lit up and she called out excitedly to Jack. “Honey look! There’s a town here, off the highway about three miles.” She handed the map to her husband. “Rascals’ Flats, eh? I believe that’s a ghost town, Mary.” “Maybe we’ll find somebody there? Or at least a place to sleep.” With evening fast approaching, Jack had to agree with her point. They still had a few hours of daylight left, enough to reach Rascals’ Flat before total darkness arrived. Bring only the essentials, Jack and Mary left the car by the side of the road and started the three-mile walk to the ghost town.

Example B: Mary looked at the desert scenery through the car window. The radio, at half volume, played an upbeat jazzy tune that made her smile. In the driver’s seat, her husband Jack had one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel, the other on the window seal. In either direction, Mary saw only pavement and desert – and she loved the solitude. All day, she and Jack had had the road to themselves. Suddenly, a series of loud “pops” erupted behind them, and the car jolted. Mary felt her throat tighten as Jack pulled the car over. He checked the back of the car. “Two flats, honey,” he called out.  “Just dandy.” “What do we do now?” She asked, trying to calm the rising fear she felt. Jack shook his head. “We’re in for a long walk either way, according to the map.”  “Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Mary replied, trying to convince herself more than Jack. “Maybe we can thumb a ride.” Jack laughed. “Maybe. But with our luck today, I wouldn’t count on it.” Mary laughed back – he was right. She pulled out the map and looked for anything nearby. Nothing. Or, almost nothing. Her eyes rested on a small name, near the highway. “Honey look, there’s a town right here, about three miles away,” Jack took the map and examined it for himself. “Rascals’ Flat, eh? I believe that’s a ghost town.” “Maybe we’ll find someone there; at least a place to sleep perhaps?” Mary glanced outside at the evening sky and noticed Jack doing the same.”Alright,” he said. “Let’s  start walking.”


Example A is, of course, an external narrative while Example B is internal though neither is purely one over the other. In Example A, you’ll notice a few distinctive traits:

  • Neither Jack or Mary is the exclusive point of reference, but rather Jack is the main focus of the narrative since he does most the action but you are not in Jack’s head any more than you are in Mary’s. This gives me, the narrator, the freedom to focus on the active parts of the story rather than being stuck with one character writing from his/her perspective of a scene.
  • The opening sentence begins with time and place, followed by character entrances and an action. The desert and the highway exist as the setting and are frankly introduced, the characters are in the setting and the action is what they are doing.
  • The narrative is active-verb-heavy: “Mary examined“, “Jack pulled over.  As the narrator, I’m narrating what Jack and Mary do, rather than attempting to interpret their actions.

By contrast, in Example B:

  • Mary is the narrative conductor (I deliberately chose her instead of Jack to highlight the different effects of narration style), and we only see into Jack’s head by way of Mary’s interpretation.
  • The opening sentence begins with a character, an action, and a location. Mary is looking at the scenery around her. In Example B, the desert is in the opening sentence to give Mary something to look at. I could just have easily said, “Mary looked out the car window” and from a grammatical perspective, it’s fine. From a narrative perspective, I need to specify what she was looking at, either in the same sentence –  “Mary looked out the window at the desert“- or include the scenery in the next sentence by way of implication  – “Mary looked out the window. In the fading light of evening, the desert was enchanting”. But notice how the second option is awkward. The desert is only there to give Mary something to look at, and Mary is only looking at something to give her an internal-narration introduction.
  • Example B uses mostly emotive action: “Mary felt her throat tighten.” An emotive action is about how the perspective-character is reacting. It doesn’t advance the story but instead seeks to connect you emotionally to the character. You the reader have a tangible reaction from Mary that you can theoretically connect to.

The basic differences come down to a central contrast: In external-narration, when the action happens, the narrator describes the action through the perspective of an observer. In internal-narration, when the action happens, you see it through the perspective of a character and the action happens outside of the focal point rather than being the focal point.

I don’t mean to say internal-narration is bad. I think a good writer can blend both styles appropriately. But I will say that it’s easier to weave internal-moments into an external-narrative than the reverse method. You can work in a character’s personal reaction in the broader external framework without jarring the reader:

Example A: Mr. Charles Johnson lived alone in his New York apartment. Except for a maid who cleaned the place in the morning after he left for his work at the department store, and the occasional guest to share a meal and glass of brandy, Mr. Johnson led a quiet life. On one of these quiet evenings, he relaxed after a long day at work by reading a detective novel, a cheap paperback he had grabbed at the bookstore. And as he read the story, he began to reflect on just how boring his life had become. Perhaps, he thought to himself, one day he would go on an adventure. But not today.

Notice that the narrative is still external. I’m situating where the character lives, and I’m establishing his situation. But to enhance the set-up, in Mr. Johnson’s first action, I describe what he is thinking or feeling. I have my cake but I eat it too, so to speak. Now let’s try switching the order of narration and see how it works:

Example B: Charlie entered the apartment. Another day’s work done, he thought to himself as he collapsed in his favorite recliner. At the department store where he worked, he liked to browse the bookstore when had a chance. Today, he’d bought a cheap detective novel – an older paperback. He opened the pages and began to read. One page in, he reached for his glass of brandy from the previous evening, only to find the glass missing. The maid had probably cleaned and stored it that morning. The maid came to the apartments once a day in the mornings for those who wanted her services. Sighing, Charlie rose from his chair and went into the kitchen, fixed another glass and returned. An hour went by, Charlie letting his mind rest as he read. It hit him, as he neared the end, just how boring his own life actually was. Perhaps, he thought, one of these days I’ll go on an adventure.

You’ll notice how much harder it was for me to introduce external-narration here. I included the detail about the maid and his buying the book. But if I were writing this normally I would not include the line about the maid after “the maid had probably cleaned and stored it that morning.” The following sentence disrupts the flow of the personal perspective. The book’s purchase is needed information, it sets up what the character is doing this evening – a catalyst. But in the first sample, I could introduce the book with a quick expositional statement. In the second sample, I have to include Mr. Johnson’s feelings about the bookstore to make this information blend.

Which brings me to my conclusions for now. Internal narration relies on flow and connection to generate interest and sympathy. External narration relies on the logical sequence of events and their relationship to the characters, trusting that the story itself captures you and creates feelings for the characters. Again, good writing uses both but I believe externality allows for clearer and more active writing.

That’s all my thoughts on this subject for today, but I’d love to do some more posts on writing styles. Let me know if you’d like this to be a regular series!

If you want to support my writing, check out my Amazon author page and follow me there as I’ll be putting more content there soon. 

An Essay on True Courage

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King Arthur (Mel Ferrer) in a scene from Knights of the Round Table (1953)

The following is a condensed version of a longer essay I wrote for one of my classes at Reformation Bible College. The original, of course, contained footnotes but for this formatting, I am simply putting all the cited works at the bottom of the page or when necessary in brackets. Because I have condensed this version, you will find the sources list shorter than what is in my actual essay.


Dabney: A Short Biography

Robert Lewis Dabney (April 5, 1820- January 3, 1898), is a fascinating and controversial figure in the history of American Presbyterianism.  From his rigid adherence to the Westminster Confession to his total and enthusiastic support of the Confederacy, Dabney has both detractors and admirers. Contemporaries describe him as being more like a biblical prophet than a theology professor, compared variously during his life to Elijah, John the Apostle, John Calvin and John Knox.  His preaching style has been described as prophet-like, not smooth and polished but more like “the Prophet Elijah” with an impression of “Didactic power.” Dabney retained a strong love for the South and Virginia in particular throughout his life, a love that is reflected in his ideology and practice. His fierce Southern nationalism and disdain for “Yankees” are central aspects of his worldview. When he died  (January 3rd, 1898) he was buried in Virginia, wearing a Confederate uniform.

Dabney greatly admired Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson, seeing him as the ideal Christian warrior. Jackson was a devout Presbyterian who was said to “live in the New Testament but fought in the Old.”  A military genius, Jackson lead his troops to victory at the First Battle of Manassas and throughout the Shenandoah Valley campaign before being shot by his own men at the Battle of Chancellorsville. In the darkness and confusion, the North Carolina regiment believed he was the enemy.  During his recovery, the general developed pneumonia and died on May 10, 1863, at 3:15 PM. Dabney delivered his memorial sermon in 1863, “True Courage”, where he lays out his understanding of how faith produces courage, using the life and practices of the recently departed Jackson as examples of this ethic. 

Types of Courage

At its most basic level, “courage is the opposite of fear” writes Dabney.  At least in the common perception. This popular definition has truth and merit, but for Dabney, such a simplistic description is sorely lacking because it misunderstands the relationship of these two as emotions. To understand courage then, we need a proper view of fear.  In light of this connection, Dabney makes a distinction between fear as an emotion and fear as an action: “Fear may be described either as a feeling and appreciation of existing danger, or an undue yielding to that feeling.”  The presence of fear does not demand the absence of courage. In fact, for Dabney true courage implies “the existence of fear” and “a feeling of danger”,  for courage “is but the overcoming of that feeling by a worthier motive.” This relationship between leads him to consider three types of courage and they each respond to the emotion of fear. While they may intertwine and each possess some measure of rightness, they are nonetheless three different categories and flow from fundamentally different sources.

Animal Courage

The first of these is what Dabney calls “animal courage.” This form of courage, says Dabney, “is but the ferment of animal passions and blind sympathies, combined with an irrational thoughtlessness.” Animal courage is the raw, natural passion we associate with creatures such as the lion (“the lion-hearted”), essentially a pagan ethic. But this courage is based on ignorance. For Dabney continues, “the man is courageous only because he refuses to reflect” and “bold because he is blind.”  Animal courage may at first glance appear the most genuine, but the source is flawed. Once the danger is actually comprehended, there is no other foundation to support this courage. Hence, animal courage is not true courage

“The Spirit of Personal Honor”

The second type of courage that Dabney lists is what he calls the “spirit of personal honor.” This form of courage rests on human pride and sense of duty. Unlike animal courage, there is “a consciousness of risk, but it is manfully controlled by the sentiment of pride, the keener fear of reproach, and the desire for applause.” But the motive is “personal and selfish…therefore the sentiment does not rise to the level of virtue.” This form of courage is self-centered and self-glorifying. A man is courageous because he fears the societal shaming he will endure should he not be courageous. Ironically, it is fear that drives him to bravery. But this fear is unstable and subject to change. And, as Dabney says, the motive does not demand the name of virtue.  

Moral Courage of the God-Fearing Man

True courage then is the moral courage of him “who fears God, and, for that reason, fears nothing else.”  In this form of bravery, there is both “an intelligent apprehension of danger” and “the natural instinct of self-love desiring to preserve its own well-being”. However, these emotions are  “curbed and governed by the sense of duty, and desire for the approbation of God.” Unlike animal courage, fear is acknowledged and experienced. Unlike self-glorifying courage, the foundation is not the approval of man but the approval of God. “This alone is true courage,” continues Dabney, “ [and] true virtue; for it is rational, and its motive is moral and unselfish.”



Dabney acknowledges that both animal courage and honor-driven bravery exhibit traits of true courage and may be “mixed in many breasts.  However, neither is complete and ultimately derive their unstable foundations from ignorance, arrogance, and idolatry. Thus concludes Dabney, “he is the bravest man, who is the best Christian. It is he who truly fears God, who is entitled to fear nothing else.

Marks of True Courage

So then, true courage flows from a right fear of God. But how can we recognize this courage and seek to cultivate it in ourselves? Dabney continues his sermon by detailing the three essential marks of true courage. All three characteristics rest on our fear of and faith in God. He also remembers the exhibitions of these traits in the life of  Gen. Thomas J. Jackson, but for the sake of flow I will simply highlight the marks themselves and skip over the mini-biographical sketches of Jackson except where his presentation of Jackson’s character contributes to his overall thesis.

Conduct Governed by the Fear of God

The man whose life is guided by a fear of God exhibits bravery because “the powers of his soul are in harmony.”   He is not unnerved by internal conflict between conscience and “evil desire”, for they are one and the same. Of course, we are sinners and we do not perfectly follow the commands of God, yet if our desire is to obey the Lord and both our conscience and desires are united in the single goal of honoring our Creator, then we have the courage of conviction. Dabney, pointing to the example of his friend Jackson, says that “every power of his soul was brought to move in sweet accord under the guidance of an enlightened and honest conscience” so “how could such a soul fail to be courageous for the right?”

I can think of other examples,  Biblical and historical, that demonstrate the relationship between conviction and courage. In fact, it is a Sunday school cliche to see men of the Bible such as Noah, Caleb, Joshua, Daniel or Paul as templates of standing for truth and godliness in the face of opposition but they rightly deserve that commendation. The apostle Peter, when confronted by the Jewish leaders declared, “We must obey God rather than men (Acts 5:29, ESV).”  Athanasius fought a lonely battle against the heresy of Arianism for the majority of his life. Martin Luther’s bold refusal to recant includes an appeal to his conscience. William Tyndale gave his life to bring the Word of God to English speaking people. All of these examples demonstrate for us that Christian courage begins with a firm conviction to follow the word of God, come what may.

Trusts in and Accepts the Providential Will of God

The second mark of true courage is absolute trust in the sovereignty and providence of God. Given that Dabney’s sermon is delivered in a memorial for Gen. Thomas Jackson, the best summation of this trust is found in the general’s own words spoken to Capt. J.D. Imboden in the aftermath of the First Battle of Manassas:

Captain, my religious belief teaches me to feel as safe in battle as in bed. God has fixed the time for my death. I do not concern myself about that, but to be always ready, no matter when it may overtake me. Captain, that is the way all men should live, and then all men would be equally brave. [John Selby, “Stonewall Jackson as Military Commander” (New York: Barnes & Noble Publishing, 1968), 25-26. ]

This faith and trust in the will of God is not a fatalistic acquiescence, but rather a recognition of God’s providence.  Dabney cites Luke 12:6-7, where Jesus tells his disciples, “Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God…fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows.”

The Christian has full trust in God’s sovereignty. Dabney beautifully situates this trust in the context of the war which ravaged his day, declaring that God’s control extends even to the trajectory of a single bullet in the chaos of battle:

Even when the thousand missiles of death, invisible to mortal sight, and sent forth aimlessly by those who launched them, shoot in inexplicable confusion over the battlefield, His eye gives them each one aim and a purpose, according to the plan of his wisdom.

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Even though we may not know the special will of God for us and our endeavors, we rest assured that His plan is “wise, and right, and good.” The time and the place are in his hands and this assurance gives us boldness.

Fears God More Than Man

The third and final mark of true Christian courage resembles in many aspects the first. But there are distinctions. “Fear of God” in this context is less about obedience and conscience and more about having a proper perspective of the eternal and immortal. The believer has no need to fear man because he is “united by faith to Christ, adopted into the favour of God, and an heir of the inheritance in the skies which is as secure as the throne of God.” Scripture constantly points beyond the now to what lies ahead. While we do not discount the importance of the present world, our hope is in the world to come. The Christian does not fear death because we serve the One who conquered death. Again speaking to the darkness of his day, Dabney encourages his listeners with the reminder that should the believer’s body “be smitten into the grave” he knows that “the resurrection day will repair all the ravages of the sword, and restore the poor tenement to his occupancy, ‘fashioned like unto Christ glorious body.'”

Jesus himself assures us that we need not fear what man can do to us, for he can only harm the body (Matthew 10:28). The Christian from whose soul the stain of sin has been washed in the Redeemer’s blood is the “invulnerable man.”  This is not denying his natural desires to avoid bodily pain and death but these emotions are counteracted by the faith he possesses. “The clearer the faith of the Christian,” says Dabney, “the more complete is this victory over the natural fears”, for his faith gives his soul a “substantial, inward sense of heavenly life” that more satisfying and real than the carnal. Dabney again holds up Jackson as an example: “His soul, I believe, dwelt habitually in the full assurance that God was his God and portion forever.” This relationship between our faith in the life to come and courage is at the heart of Dabney’s theology of courage. It is not a courage which comes from us, but from God and assurance in his promises.


These three marks all relate to the same principle, that our relationship to God determines our attitude toward life, which together forms the foundation for courage.  The first is ethical, the second theological and the last eschatological. We can summarize all three points by saying that if we seek to obey God’s commands, trust His providence and believe His promises we have the true, biblical foundation for courage.

Final Thoughts

Even though generally we are not threatened with physical danger in our day and age, we still need to stand for truth.  Dabney’s threefold template is beneficial in that regard. We live in an era when the concept of heroism is unpopular,  and this old Southern Presbyterian provides a helpful antidote to our apathy for courage. Scripture is full of heroes but they all reflect the true Hero, Christ, who came to Earth to secure the salvation of his people. And, as Dabney himself points out:

Jesus Christ is the Divine Pattern and Fountain of heroism. Earth’s true heroes are they who derive their courage from him.

Primary Text:

Dabney, Robert L. True Courage: a Discourse Commemorative of Lieut. General Thomas J. Jackson.  (Richmond, VA: Presbyterian Committee of Publications of the Confederate States, 1863.)
Secondary Sources:
Lucas, Sean M.  Robert Lewis Dabney: A Southern Presbyterian Life. (Phillipsburg, NJ: P & R Pub., 2005)
Davis, Donald A. & Wesley K. Clark, Stonewall Jackson: a Biography (Palgrave Macmillan, 2006)

“SpaceWard” Series Update!


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In the very near future, I will be launching the first installment of my SpaceWard series. This is a series of shorter works (around thirty pages) and so quickly consumed but they are all part of a continuing story about the exploits of the Irishman Captain Fergus Roach and his crew on the space-ship Gamble.  Fergus and the Gamble work for a space colonization company called “SpaceWard” and their work includes escorting colonists to their new homes,  scouting for new planets, conducting trade and protecting company interests. These are their official duties but they often find themselves in situations not covered under these categories.

Sound like Star Trek? Not surprising, since the classic series is the basic inspiration but I am doing some important things differently here. Trek is a politically socialistic, morally relativistic and artistically surrealistic story-storytelling. By contrast, SpaceWard is politically classically-liberal, morally objectivistic and artistically stylized-realistic storytelling. (in so far as Space adventures can be “realistic”, mainly I mean there’s an attempt real planets, real aliens, a more physical setting unlike the often psychological settings of Trek. The stories themselves are also more adventure-oriented, and in many ways just as inspired by Irwin Allen’s Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea as by Trek if not more so. The aesthetic is heavily influenced by the original Battlestar Galactica. 

Trek stories which are often more philosophical. Which isn’t to say there is no philosophical side to SpaceWard but rather the philosophy is more underlying and functional. I’m not going to tell you “X is true” or “Y is wrong” but rather craft my stories with certain assumptions. And the existence of these truths and morals affect the stories. For example, I affirm that human life is valuable and man is the highest created being in the physical world because of the Imago Dei. This is both a truth and a moral I assume. But rather than have an entire story devoted to preaching about man’s worth and the importance of a pro-life ethic, I’m going to tell you an enjoyable story that affirms these truths by giving prominence to human characters and reacting strongly to the unnecessary taking of human life.

It should also be noted that not all characters will share my views, and there will be times that truths and ethics are challenged.

I have finished the rough draft version of the first “episode”, titled rather simply: SpaceWard: First Voyage. The characters will be coming together for the first time in this story and some will be more active than others. And a few key characters do not even get mentioned yet.

I will be working on the second draft this week and hope to have the first story available by next week. I will announce the release here but if you’re interested, please follow my Amazon author page: Daniel Gilbertson – Author Page

Until next time, happy reading!

Write Reasons: In Defense of the Useless Profession


“Writing is something you do alone. It’s a profession for Introverts who want to tell you a story but don’t want to make eye-contact while doing it.” ~ John Green

When I was a little kid, I saw a movie that changed my life, in most ways for the better and, in some ways, for the worst. In Search of the Castaways is a 1962 live-action Disney movie adaptation of a work by Jules Verne, The Children of Captain Grant and tells the exciting adventure of two children – with the help of an English sea-captain and an eccentric French professor – searching for their father, the titular Captain Grant who is presumed dead.

I believe this may be the first feature-length movie I ever saw, and it resulted in two personal developments: First, my preference for adventure stories over all others and second, my intention to become a writer. This movie introduced me to the French writer Jules Verne and for the rest of my childhood, I read every Verne title available to me. But my decision came from reading Verne’s biographies. More than any other writer’s life I read about, with the exception of Hans Christian Anderson, I connected to the story of Jules Verne: pushed to be anything but a writer by the pragmatic world he lived in, and pursuing that dream at all costs, even to the point of near-starvation in a single cheap room in Paris. He had a dream, he stuck to it against all odds and because of his perseverance, he gifted the modern world with the first wave of science fiction.

Telling people “I’m a writer” is a tricky business. Usually, I sense an eye-roll, an internal “uh-huh” from the other person; as if to say “right, but what do want to do for a living?”. On a technical level, anything you do that generates honest money is a living. The value of a product is determined solely by the seller and the buyer.

You may see someone giving me, a writer, $2.99 on Amazon for a story a complete waste of time and money on both ends: “What good does that story do you?” you may ask the buyer of his purchase, “that’s $2.99 you could have spent on something practical or simply saved for a future purpose.” But your hasty judgment of value ignores how many “non-practical” items you and every American spends more than mere pocket-change on every single day.  Do you have internet? Cable? A house with more rooms than you need? Have you ever purchased a movie ticket? Bought and played with a deck of cards? Bought a snack at the grocery store or bought any unneeded food item at the grocery store for that matter? Yes. And these luxuries cost far more than the paltry sum an Amazon writer receives for his work.

When I write a book, I’m recording my imagination. And it may seem frivolous to buy and sell the records of another person’s imagination. We all have an imagination, after all – at least, I believe we do. But our imaginations are not the same in intensity, in form or in clarity. In a typical business, imagination is used to create a new business strategy, find ways to cut costs and beat the competition. The businessman does not focus his imagination on creating a world of wizards and knights, or Jedi and smugglers. But he may enjoy seeing the imagination of others who do focus their energies here. This is why people who work a “normal” job go to the movies, to rest their imagination and enjoy someone else’s creativity in another area.

And the relationship is mutual. I use my creativity to write books. But I need to rest my imagination sometimes and enjoy what other people create, both for relaxation and for eventual re-invigoration of my own creativity.  And I don’t just mean other books or movies. I find joy in the creativity of business strategy, of science projects and design. As one of my favorite authors, J.R.R. Tolkien wrote in his work “On Fairy Stories”, we are all makers because we are made by a Maker. Whether we make stories or furniture or discoveries or YouTube videos or ice-cream or businesses we are reflecting the vast and inconceivable creativity of the Master Creator.


If you would like to support me as a writer, please consider subscribing to this blog, following my Amazon profile (under my pen name Daniel Gilbertson) for updates as I begin my writing career. I also plan to set up a Patreon connected to this site in the near future. Thank you!