Fellow Fear Nought author Neil Lynn Wise has been writing extensively about the inspirations for his novel, The Lost Warrior. I've read his book, and I can say with certainty that it just gets better and more absorbing as it goes along. (I also theorize the "Arch" on planet Kalnaroag was inspired by a Larry Niven classic. Am I right, Neil?) I decided now would be a good time to talk about my own inspirations for Lightfall.
I've always been a fan of "end of the world" sci-fi, starting with When Worlds Collide and continuing through Niven's Lucifer's Hammer and Footfall. (The phonetic similarity to Lightfall is a coincidence, but a happy one.) More recently, I was put off by Independence Day and Armageddon (far too glib about millions of fatalities) but entertained, at least, by The Day After Tomorrow and Knowing. The back of my head appears in Deep Impact, thanks to a year of Hollywood extra work. None of these, however, were my inspiration.
One scene in particular reminds some people of Stephen King's Cell, which I have read. I admit the similarity but was not thinking of that book when I wrote the "Tone scene" in Lightfall. To be honest, I think I'd just seen the "brown note" episode of Mythbusters at the time, and I was probably also inspired by the soccer hooligan zombies in 28 Days Later. But that's just one scene. Really, if I'm being totally honest, Lightfall was inspired by my nine years in Ada, Oklahoma, a town as loaded with contradictions as any I've ever known. What a wonderful playground for a book, am I right?
See, Ada is a deeply religious college town in south central Oklahoma. Most of its eighteen thousand residents either are or shamelessly claim to be Baptist or Church of Christ. Over a quarter of its residents have at least Bachelors degrees, but its median income hovers right around the poverty line. Only about one in sixteen are either Hispanic or African-American; three in four are white-bread white. It's a place where people wave as they pass each other on the (mostly barren) highways. If you're a townie, the most sketchy eccentricities are waved away with a "bless his heart," but if you're not--and I was not--you have much less, shall we say, "artistic license." It's a town where openly gay and lesbian college students roll their eyes at deeply closeted Baby Boomers. There are swingers and meth addicts and porn performers, many of whom are regular churchgoers. One of my friends worked in Christian radio while sporting a "Jesus fish" tattoo on her ankle. Another is a pastor who doesn't believe the Judeo-Christian characterization of God, but he preaches as if he does to meet the expectations and preferences of his elderly congregation. You can see why I'm disinclined to name names.
Soon after I moved there this last time, I ran afoul of some of Ada's more colorful personalities. I admit my share of blame here. I have a tendency to say what I'm thinking, and even if I don't, it's clear by my expression. I wrote a blog for what I thought was a limited number of out-of-state readers. Guess what? Turns out Ada has a fair share of Internet computers and copy machines! A few of my more outraged expostulations haunt me to this day.
I am, in fact, repentant. I should not have said the things I said; I lashed out at the innocent. Back then, though, I knew some of the outrage I felt about Ada was legitimate. Without delving too deeply into old news, I knew some of those screaming about me the loudest had no moral high ground from which to sermonize, yet they acted as if God Himself organized their campaign against me. Even when some of my most profoundly hypocritical opponents were exposed to the general public, there were those who backed the demon they knew over a brash California liberal agnostic with a big mouth. One woman asked a group of children to pray for my mortal soul while I was standing in the next room. My offense? I told one preteen girl I wasn't sure I believed in God, but she should believe whatever made her the happiest. The horror!
Okay, so it's water under the bridge. And it is, I swear. But when I told these stories to a friend, he said the following about a handful of Adans: "They're like children. If they knew how to kill, they would." Man, that's a great line! It's so good I've Googled it since then, but apparently my friend invented this observation on the spot. (I'd credit him by name, but--you guessed it--he still lives in Ada.) So back in 2006, even as I was still living there, I was formulating a vicious, retaliatory satire about Ada Christians and/or artists called They Knew How to Kill.
Ah, but how a few years can change a person's outlook. I've grown bemused about my difficulties in the Bible Belt. On my best days, one could even say "amused." After I moved to Washington state, I started thinking about why some people are the way they are, and what I might have to say about that once I recovered from pointless conflict. Instead of They Knew How to Kill, I wrote the erstwhile Salvation, a book about how Christianity and science might learn to coexist, how the best thing for Christianity in the twenty-first century would be to emulate what Christ actually said and did, and how some hypocrites live the way they live because exposing their true natures would cause...well...the end of their world. I didn't come to these epiphanies flying solo, of course. Bishop John Shelby Spong was a major influence, as were Ada Christians I credit by name in the book.
More than anything, though, I hope readers (including Oklahoma Christians) will focus less on axe-grinding and more on character and plot. I was in a very good place in my life when I put pen to paper, and I like the fact that Lightfall derives from what I'm tempted to call a spiritual place. A strange thing happens to a writer over the course of a novel: We start to empathize with our creations as if they were real people, even the villains. The worst guy in Lightfall comes from a place I understand. I've been to what Springsteen called "the darkness on the edge of town" many times. As any other town does, Ada has its dark edges, but I'm happy to report I found my own Salvation in the light.