Preface

Although my first two books were nonfiction, I had ideas for a couple of novels floating around in my brain and I had been toying with the idea of writing a novel for several years. I even went so far as to read some books on fiction writing, such as Telling Lies for Fun and Profit by Lawrence Block and Stephen King’s On Writing, and I was pumped. Soon after I started writing, however, I learned that fiction writing is a lot harder than nonfiction. With nonfiction, I merely had to write down what happened to me, drawing deeply on my journals for source material. The subject matter itself–mainly out-of-body experiences–made the material interesting within the genre. With fiction, however, I had to weave a plot, develop characters, give them independent motives and direction, and try to keep it all straight in my mind and interesting to the reader.

However, reading a few books on fiction writing doesn’t make you good at it. One day, when this book was mostly written (or so I thought), I was at the airport waiting to pick up my in-laws who were arriving late. As I waited in the car outside the airport, I noticed that my wife had left a copy of Stephen King’s Rose Madder between the seats. I picked it up and began reading. By the end of the first chapter, I was blown away by the degree of artfulness in his writing. That chapter was not mere writing, it was a work of art. Disgusted with my lack of skill, comparatively speaking, I vowed to throw Mike in the trash: my writing could never be that good.

Still, the story of Mike persisted in my mind, and I was driven to improve my writing skills and take up the task again. Clearly, I had a lot to learn about writing fiction, and I had to go over the manuscript dozens more times, rewriting huge sections, adding chapters, enriching others, making it better, richer. I had to approach this task not as a writer, but as an artist with a paintbrush made of words. I reworked and rewrote the book for more than a year afterward.

I wanted Mike to fit in the category of “visionary fiction,” but that classification had some heavy connotations in my mind. To me, traditional visionary fiction was like candy: All sugar and no substance. I used to call it “spiritual fast food,” in other words, high in fat but low in nutrition. Despite the rich taste of spiritual philosophy, the stories lacked substance and weren’t satisfying. I wanted Mike to stand alone on its story rather than its philosophy. Rather than smothering the reader with philosophy clothed in a thin “story-disguise,” I wanted to write a gripping story. In other words, I didn’t want to write another instant-gratification book that seems so typical in the genre these days, I wanted it impossible to put down, and I worked very hard to achieve that.

Nonetheless, my religious beliefs and attitudes are reflected in the characters of the book. I’m sure those beliefs and attitudes will unnerve and even irritate some readers, but I’m sure others will applaud. My purpose is not to irritate you, nor to gain your praise. I don’t want to be the next Salman Rushdie. My greatest hope is not that you change your religious beliefs, but rather that this book will make you think about what you believe and why you believe it. And maybe you’ll look at the facts your beliefs are based upon.

Our beliefs are the foundations of our reality. Our lives are literally built upon the beliefs we carry, yet too many people go through life never examining their beliefs. Instead, they accept whatever they were taught by their parents and other religious authorities. Many are willing to die or even kill to support those unexamined beliefs, as evidenced by the horrific acts of September 11, 2001.

This willingness to believe is not limited to a single religion, either. Christians kill other Christians in the name of God on a weekly basis in Northern Ireland. Muslims kill other Muslims in Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan and other nations. Even the seemingly peaceful Buddhists have a long bloody history with the Burmese Buddhists fighting the Buddhists of Thailand. Most people don’t realize that predecessors who bore the now-benevolent title of Dalai Lama were once greatly feared in Tibet and the Potala Palace was a dungeon. Of course, the now-benevolent title of Pope was feared as well, and the Vatican was a place from which bloodbaths were commissioned. The people who commit these atrocities do so in the name of God, yet they don’t bother to question the validity or origins of their beliefs.

I’ve asked many people what they believe in a particular regard, and the most common answer is, “I’ve never given it much thought.” Why? Because it’s uncomfortable to examine your beliefs. When you start to pry at the lowest bricks of your foundation, you start to worry that the whole thing might topple. Yet I believe that Socrates’ statement that “The unexamined life is not worth living” also holds true about our beliefs. The unexamined belief is not worth keeping.

“I’ve never given it much thought” has never been a true statement for me; I’ve spent many years examining my beliefs, taking them apart brick by brick and examining where they came from and whether or not I should keep them or throw them away. This self-examination was not driven by boredom nor a righteous sense of duty; it was nearly forced upon me by experiences that some people might consider religious, including out-of-body and psychic experiences. There’s just something about staring at your own inanimate body lying in bed that motivates questions about reality!

I’m sure at some point in the book, readers will ask, “Where does this guy get these crazy ideas? What religion is he trying to sell?” The answer is: I’m not selling anything. I’m not trying to start a new religion here and I’m not a member of any church or religious organization. I believe that “religion” is (and should be) one’s personal relationship with God, and that we don’t need “organized religion” to tell us what to believe, how to pray, or how to be close to God. My beliefs are an amalgamation based not only on existing doctrine from many cultures, but also on personal experience.

As I wrote the book, I typically didn’t know what would happen next. For the most part, the pieces fell into place much more smoothly than I expected. Originally I thought the book was as much about the choices we make as the beliefs we hold. Like us, the characters in this book are all making choices; choices to believe or not, to forgive or not, to love or not, to kill or not, and to live or not. As the book progressed, I realized it is a love story more than anything else, for love, with its many facets, is the recurring theme and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’d love to tell you how the idea for the book came about and how the characters developed, but that would give away too much of the story. Instead, I have a section at the end to explain it.

I hope readers don’t take this story too seriously and get emotionally worked up over it. Read it with an open mind and remember: This is not a sermon or a statement of our Universal Laws; these are only my opinions, and this is only a work of fiction.

Robert Peterson, 2002