I’m not a theologian, not even a lay theologian, but I’ve been interested in a while in how Christians say things. Take them for what they’re worth:

• Bible–I hate this word, possibly because it’s so overused in Christian discourse, partly because it gives the image of one cohesive work. I prefer Scriptures, with the appropriate adjective (see next bullet), because the term indicates multiple documents collected for a purpose.
• Testament–I don’t like the term “Old Testament,” except in literary or historical discourse. In modern religious discourse, I’d prefer we use the term “Hebrew Scriptures.” “Old Testament” is at best paternalistic and at worst disrespectful. For me, “Old Testament” is only acceptable when discussing historical theology; for example, when we’re talking about apologetics based primarily on typology, it wouldn’t be accurate to discuss the apologists’ opinion of the “Hebrew Scriptures” because those Scriptures are primarily used to prove the truth of Christianity. We would be beholden to the apologists’ terms, not our own.Similarly, I prefer “Christian Scriptures” to “New Testament,” mostly for symmetry. I dislike the terms, “First Testament” and “Second Testament” that are being used by some publishers because they set up the question, “Is there a third testament? A fourth?”
• Apocrypha/Deuterocanonicals–You’ll only see “Deuterocanonical” in Catholic and Orthodox discourse because it’s a much kinder term than “Apocrypha” for the books of the Hebrew Scriptures that have been excluded from the canon by Jews and most Protestants. But if we shift to “Apocrypha,” we run into an interesting problem–how expansive is that term? I suppose we can distinguish the Apocrypha (uppercase) from apocryphal writings (lowercase). The latter term would include gnostic writings and various others deemed heretical or noncanonical by the Church Fathers. Even with this distinction, I almost always ask myself “which apocrypha?” when I see that term used. My sympathy is with “Deuterocanonical” when referring to works that have been canonized by some branches of Christianity and “apocrypha” when referring to works that haven’t been canonized by any. But I think that’s more or less a lost cause at this point. Such is life.
• Denomination–I was once told that Catholicism is a denomination, and that set me to thinking about what the proper term is. In my conception of the Church, there are three branches: Catholicism, Orthodoxy (capital “O”), and Protestantism. I suppose you could restrict Protestantism to mainline churches and separate off Evangelicalism and Charismatic Christianity. I’m not in favor of that, though, because there’s too much overlap; I prefer Protestantism as one branch. But I digress.Within branches, I would separate groups according to the preferred lingo of its members. Thus, Catholicism has rites; Orthodoxy has rites and churches; and Protestantism has denominations, congregations, and conferences. I suppose you could make the case for dioceses and eparchies being equivalent to denominations, but I wouldn’t make that case. Dioceses and eparchies mostly exist as administrative divisions.

  Returning to the issue of overlap, I’d like to point out that my neat division is not perfect. Where does one place the Polish National Church (broke off from the American Catholic Church over property rights)? I suppose you could include radical traditionalists in Catholicism, but I think it’d be difficult to argue that the Polish National Church belongs in that branch when it self-styles itself as a denomination. But can it be placed in Protestantism? And what about Catholic Charismatics? They have a foot in Catholicism and a foot in Pentecostalism (which would fall under my Protestant branch). Just goes to show that any division of parts within Christianity fails in the end.

The following is a short list of survey classes I’d love to take one day.  Feel free to add your own.

• Jane Austen: All six books, plus historical context, but none of the political hijacking that’s occurred over the years.
• Saint Augustine and the Autobiography: I’ve always wanted to explore how we can trace Augustine’s influence on the form he essentially created.
• Chaucer: I think I might actually get to take this one in the Fall, and it’ll be a proper survey (historical context, no political hijacking).
• History of Feminist Thought: I don’t consider myself a theorist, but I feel that I’m woefully ignorant of what feminism actually says.  I don’t care too much about current feminist thought; I’d just like to see how it developed over the past millennium or so.  I’d be particularly interested if the survey worked in Julian of Norwich, Margery Kempe, and Catherine of Sienna.
• Magical Realism: This is another one I think I might be able to take, as it’s offered by a Texas State professor.  This is one survey for which criticism is essential, as Magical Realism is often imposed retroactively or without consent or purpose of the author.
• Joyce (Dubliners through Ulysses): Again, proper survey.  Finnegans Wake would take a whole semester, and I’m not sure I have the stomach for that.
• The Golden Age of SF: A proper survey of the roots.  I don’t think I’ll ever get to take this one, though I’ve been surprised before.
• Ovid and Shakespeare: Are we clear that I’m interested in influence?
• Gen X: Dave Eggers, Michael Chabon, Lemony Snicket, Jonathon Lethem, and David Foster Wallace.  My interest in Gen X literature increased exponentially when I read a recent article in PMLA that places A Series of Unfortunate Events in the context of this generation.  It also explained a great deal about my attitudes toward literature–and why I have enjoyed Snicket so much more than Rowling.

That’s the lesson I learned recently.  I had finished the second draft of my first novel, “Montrose & Westheimer,” and I wasn’t entirely happy with it.  There’s one subplot* that I’m not satisfied with, but I was more or less happy with the book.  I was especially proud of the ending–when I finished it, I was, well, amazed at my own brilliance.  It expressed exactly how I felt about the subject at hand.  I told myself, “There’s no way you’re changing that!”

Time passed.

Recently, I had a couple of inspirations on how to correct the dissatisfying subplot.  Most everything else in the book was fine, I thought, but everything connected with that subplot could be changed with a third draft.  So I started a new draft** to revisit the problem subplot.  But then something else happened–I had an idea about the ending.

Just to be clear, I could change the problem subplot without touching the second draft ending.  If I’m not mistaken, I wouldn’t even have to change a word of the epilogue.

The idea came when I was considering how to keep the length of the book above 55,000 words and how to possibly push it to 60,000 words.  One idea was to add another chapter, and I had been wanting to do so for a while, but I had never figured out a method that would integrate with the story.  The idea I had, though, was to revise the last chapter, pushing about 1500 words of it into a new chapter and adding another 1500 words or so in front of it.  I’d only be adding 1500-2000 words to the story, but the last chapter wouldn’t be so long (I think it was over 5000 words) and I’d have my Chapter 15.  But then I’d have to change the ending.

I started with the epilogue, my brilliant epilogue, and I realized how utterly non-brilliant it was.  My character made a totally unrealistic jump from “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” contentment to cynicism and resentment–then to a strange sort of apathy that took even me by surprise.  It occurred to me then: How could I have ever thought this was good?  Even worse, how could I have thought it was good enough to publish?

Aghast at my own incompetence, I revised the epilogue.  I think I may have kept one sentence intact (and I even changed one word in it).  The rest was deleted into oblivion and replaced by something better, but by no means brilliant.  I’ve learned not to think that way.

*I’m not sure that “subplot” is quite the correct term.  The book is, essentially, a collection of several plots that form a larger plot.  Maybe “component plot”?

**Really, I copied the Microsoft Word document of the second draft, pasted it, and renamed it.