Unveiled

Steven James is one of the nation’s most innovative storytellers. Since developing his skill as a performer at East Tennessee State University (MA in Storytelling), he has spoken more than 1,500 times throughout North America and has taught creative storytelling and writing in South Africa, Ukraine, Canada, Kazakhstan and India.

As one of the most versatile authors in the country, Steven has penned more than 25 books of both award-winning fiction and nonfiction including fantasy, inspiration, poetry, short stories, scripts, a nine-book storytelling library of resources for educators, and the best selling psychological thrillers The Pawn and The Rook.

Tim George: I usually like to start an interview on a lighter note so why break that precedent now. I read somewhere, though you don’t watch much television, you are fan of 24. What is it about Jack Bauer that resonates with loyal watchers?

Steven James: 24 is all about conflict. And good drama is all about tension. I love how the writers of the show continue to tighten the conflict and escalate the danger, and I also like octane suspense, especially when it’s woven together with intense action sequences. I think Jack is real enough to inspire our empathy and courageous enough to earn our loyalty.

TG: On a follow up, is there any possible way to kill the guy?

RS: Not if you want to keep the show going.

TG: Those who have read your fiction may not be aware that isn’t where you started in your writing career. Tell us a little about your storytelling and non-fiction. What led you to try out fiction and what challenges does fiction writing present as opposed to non-fiction?

I wrote non-fiction books for nearly 10 years and with my Master’s Degree in Storytelling, I often teach communication skills at conferences across the country. For me, it’s all about story–whether it’s a true story, a novel, or a an orally told story. I’ve always liked thrillers and over the years I had bigger and bigger stories I wanted to tell. Eventually those found their way into my novels. I think in many ways fiction is more difficult to write than non-fiction. I think that a good novel raises moral questions in an honest manner. Non-fiction gives answers. It’s a lot easier to be an answer-giver than a question-igniter.

TG: Randy Singer and I spoke about this in my interview with him. There are differences in good non-fiction and good fiction. At the same time there are similarities; story being on of them. What kind of non-fiction has most shaped the way you think and write?

SJ: It’s interesting that you ask this. My Master’s Degree thesis was on this very subject—how to craft personal experience stories–specifically, how much can you change them and still claim that they are true. Fascinating stuff. I read a variety of nonfiction, much of which explores this boundary. Lately I’ve been reading Richard Selzer’s Confessions of a Knife.

TG: In preparation for this interview I asked visitors to my blog to make comments or ask questions about your novels. One visitor remarked, “I think it’s a wonderful blend of suspense, forensics, mystery, humor, and relationships.” Could you comment on the challenges presented to a writer in maintaining a balance between all these elements?

SJ: I believe one of the keys to writing a good novel is creating characters we care about and want to see succeed. We discover the characteristics and dimensions of a character when we see him in relationship to other people. For example, when Patrick Bowers is alone with a woman, he’s often fumbling for what to say; when he’s with his stepdaughter, he’s searching for ways to connect with her; but when he’s at a crime scene, he responds with courage and confidence. By seeing him in each of these relationships, it deepens our involvement in the story and adds depth to the novel.

TG: So even though few of us can relate to Bowers on a professional level, all of us can relate to him on a personal level. Isn’t that part of what makes for a good hero: they are bigger than life and yet liable to be just as conflicted as we are, maybe even more?

SJ: Yes. And this empathy that we have toward the protagonist is what helps us care about what happens to him or her.

TG: We’ve looked at what makes for a good protagonist. What about the antagonist? What elements are needed for a powerful yet believable villain?

SJ: I’ve gone back and forth on this. I used to believe that antagonists are most frightening when they are also compassionate in some areas of their lives, but in The Knight, my antagonist lacks any form of empathy whatsoever. Other people are just props for him, objects to use for his own pleasure. And he treats his victims almost like pieces of meat. For me, this was my most terrifying antagonist so far.

TG: One feature of The Pawn and The Rook is not only the complexity of the antagonists but the sheer number of them. How did you choose to give Patrick Bowers so many layers of bad guys to face?

SJ: Typically, I like stories with multiple sub-plots. It turns out the more of those I added, the more antagonists crept into the story. Wait till you see what he has to deal with in The Knight!

TG: I just finished an interview with Athol Dickson, whose Winter Haven is not so coincidentally a nominee for the Christy Award in the same category as The Rook. The two of you take very different approaches at suspense and both with great success. While you have different writing styles, there is one place of important commonality I see in the heroes of your stories. They aren’t two-dimensional.  They are heroes with real flaws just like real people. That’s a long buildup to ask a simple question. Why did you choose a hero like Patrick Bowers?

SJ: I wanted to create a character who was a man of action, intellect, and yet vulnerable. A man who has all the answers or all the solutions isn’t interesting to me. His character is definitely developing as the series goes on and I get to know him better.

TG:  Is there any of you in Bowers? I mean, you do have a teenage daughter, I believe?

SJ: He’s a better rock climber than I am, a little more of a coffee snob, and we both get to enjoy the pleasure of raising teenage daughters.

TG: You manage to pull off something that often doesn’t work in a novel. You shift point of view and person from chapter to chapter. Is that just a literary device or was it intentional to ratchet up the suspense level of the story?

SJ: It was definitely intentional. When we as readers can see impending danger for protagonists (this is best done from the antagonists POV), we will worry more about the person’s safety and success.

TG: Your answer beings up another question. At their base level, what is the difference between a classic mystery and suspense?

SJ: This isn’t an original thought, I’ve heard others express it, but I think it is accurate: in suspense the reader is one step ahead of the detective, in mystery, the reader is one step behind. In other words, in a mystery the detective might start by looking at the dust on the windowsill, then he buys a Slinky from the store, then checks the expiration date on the milk in the refrigerator and then announces, “I’ve solved the crime!” And we’re thi
nking, “What? How!” In each case he is one step ahead of us.

In suspense, we might see, from the killer’s POV, the woman pull into pull the driveway. He flicks out his switchblade and then hides in her bedroom closet. Then, from her POV we see her enter the house and we’re thinking, “No! Don’t go in there or you’re dead!” So, in a sense, mysteries appeal more to intellectual curiosity, suspense to emotional engagement.

TG: Pacing is extremely important in good suspense and only a few master it. I have to tell you, you have it mastered. What method do you use to ensure plot and pacing remain tight in your story?

SJ: I wish I could claim to be able to plot out and plan each of the twists in my stories, but in reality, it just comes from hours and hours and hours of editing and revisions.

TG: I read where you said, “Most of the Christian thrillers I’ve read are thinly veiled sermons.” In fairness, I have heard a lot of sermons that were thinly veiled stories. What did you mean in that statement?

SJ: I don’t believe good fiction is written with the intention to make a point, but rather to render the truth. In other words, if I start a story with the goal of trying to prove or argue something– for example, that we should forgive other people–the story will end up shallow and didactic. However, if I write from the perspective of a dilemma, such as — what does it mean to forgive someone who doesn’t want to be forgiven — if I do that, I’m able to help people think about the issue and engage with his honestly. Ever since Aristotle pointed it out in his book Poetics (and probably before that) writers have understood that good stories end in ways that are both unexpected and inevitable. If I read a story and I start to think, “Oh I get it–if this person would just trust in Jesus, then her problems will be solved,” and that’s precisely where the story goes, the story has failed since the ending is only inevitable and not unexpected.

TG: The tension between inevitable and unexpected is a great point and probably the reason we both watch 24 faithfully. You know Jack is going to prevail in the end. The path that takes him to that inevitable conclusion is never what you expect. So what was the inevitable yet unexpected in The Rook for Patrick Bowers?

SJ: Well, in each of the stories, I tried to lead the reader (and to a certain extent, Patrick Bowers), step by step to a certain conclusion, then pull the rug out from under them with a major twist in which they realize they were wrong, and all the clues were really pointing somewhere else all along.

TG: Another Patrick Bowers installment (The Knight) comes out soon. Are there more beyond that? What can tell us about the future as far as your fiction writing goes?

SJ: I’ve signed a contract for 8 books in this series, so it looks like Patrick Bowers will be around for awhile!

TG: That’s good news for those of us you’ve hooked with this compelling storyline. Thanks Steven for giving us a little more insight to your writing.