Selectively Accurate

So, I found my second novel.  This one is a bit older and you can tell by the writing that was merely a young chap.  Again, typos, grammatical errors, and errors on content were located in my proofing, however, to preserve what young Curtis wrote as a teenager, these were not touched.  Like its fictional counterpart, this book was not completed.  I did, however, put away three whole chapters on this one.  As always, I invite comments on here or on facebook.  So here it is… all the way back to 2001:  Curtis’s very first attempt at a novel. 

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1.

Introduction

I’ve been pondering for awhile on how I should begin. There are so many different ways for me to start, you’d think that I could choose one. Most of these ways are much too common and overly used. I want my introduction to be unique. And consequently, I ponder.

Still with me? Good. Then allow me to introduce myself. My name is Curtis Steinbacher. Most people, including my family and friends, however, refer to me as simply Curtis. I think I’ll tell you a little bit about myself…. Later. The one thing that I will tell you now, however, is that I am 17. If you do the math you will find that that is 2 less than 19, 3 more than 14, and I will be 68 in 51 years. The significance? None. However, being 17 I can only give you the perspective of what a 17 year old thinks. Or of course, what anyone younger than a 17 year old thinks.

Now being 17 isn’t easy. Teenagers, such as myself, are bombarded with obstacles, challenges, and decisions that attempt to make our lives more difficult every single day. And on top of all that, I’ve noticed a pattern. Since I was about 12 I’ve noticed that my life seems to become more difficult as I grow older. And using my reasoning skills I can only assume that my life will only continue to become more difficult. School, parents, relationships, and jobs all add to the stress of my life, or rather to the difficultly of it. There is, on the other hand, a way of overcoming life’s obstacles, challenges, and decisions.

“God is our refuge and strength,

an ever-present help in trouble.”

-Psalms 46:1

And that’s the solution. God.

Now what I’m going to say next is not the easiest thing to explain, but bear with me, it will all make sense later. For the last couple of years I’ve come to know this feeling of no worries. It’s a feeling that no matter what life brings I’m ready to say, “Jesus, let’s do this.” Yet, I haven’t actually felt this feeling first hand. I’ve only come to know it by seeing it in others and desiring it for myself. I’ve come to know what it is and of course that such a thing exists. But, I’m not there yet. And my goal is to help you along with myself reach that point, that oneness with Jesus Christ, which no difficulty that life brings can touch.

2.

Realization

I can remember not too long ago, when my pastor gave a sermon about gambling. But, it wasn’t gambling with money in some Las Vegas casino. He was talking about gambling with our lives, and more specifically, our eternal lives. Now he branched off into a lot of sub topics as usual. His main point, however, stuck in my mind. It was probably because he was describing me. People, for one reason or another, often push God aside. I’m not just referring to non-Christians. Some Christians are especially guilty of this. Take me for example. Yeah I’m a Christian, but when it came to calling on God, it seemed as though I only did it when I needed help, or I was in trouble, or I wanted something. Now that’s not wrong to only call on God when we need him to do something, but think about how he must feel. It seems to me that most of us need something drastic to happen in our lives for us to call on God. God, however, gives us individual attention every second of the day, just waiting for us to talk to him or to call on him. In the meantime though, we can find ourselves growing farther apart and separating from Him.

So, why do we do it? Why do we live our lives so close to the edge, especially since there is so much at stake? It’s simple really. Most of us just don’t understand what it is that’s at stake. Sometimes it takes something as drastic as losing a loved one to make us really evaluate our lives. We need to understand that eternity is forever.

Picture this. You need to make one lap around a track. That one lap represents the length of your life here on earth. Now, imagine setting a treadmill at the starting line of the track. You have to run on that treadmill until you get around one whole lap. Impossible? Of course it is. That lap that you will never achieve represents eternity. The best way to understand eternity, however, is not through an analogy, but rather just to stop and think about it. Eternity is forever, never ending, everlasting, and interminable. When you think about it that way, it makes our life here on earth seem rather insignificant. What’s most important is that the choices, or rather the choice that you make during this insignificant life is so significant that eternity depends on it.

Now the point to all of this is simple. I want you to realize that most of the worries that we have are petty ones. Schoolwork, quarrels with parents (which I’ll get to later), relationships that we probably don’t need (which I will also get to later), and jobs are all examples of unimportant obstacles that we simply have to overcome.

When you think about just how long and important eternity is, it can make the math quiz that you just failed seem a little less important then we tend to make it. Now I’m not saying go blow off your schoolwork like it means nothing, or life in general for that matter. This is a bit of a side bar. Believe it or not, God wants you to do well in school.

“And whatever you do,

whether in word or deed,

do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus,

giving thanks to God the Father.”

-Colossians 3:17

Ok, here’s a little thing that I like to do when things just don’t seem to be going my way. I like to think about heaven. I like to think about what it might look like with its streets of gold and smiling faces everywhere. Now I’ve grown up in Pennsylvania where we experience a fair share of all four seasons. Right now it’s autumn, and one of my favorite things to do during this time of the year is to take a walk through the woods. I think it’s absolutely gorgeous. My point is, if this earth can be pretty itself, just imagine what heaven will look like. Heaven is going to be more beautiful than we can imagine. However, despite all of Heaven’s beauty, it’s not what I’m most looking forward to. I’m looking forward to that first opportunity when I will be able to see Jesus, when I’ll be able to hug him and thank him and praise him for what he did for me. So go ahead, think about heaven. Think about meeting Jesus.

“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen,

but on what is unseen.

For what is seen is temporary,

But what is unseen in eternal.”

3.

My Testimony, and Yours

I’m sure that you’ve heard the story of Saul. Well, if you haven’t, you’re going to read a brief version of it now. Saul was a religious man. He tried his best to do what he thought was the will of God. However, Saul didn’t quite have all of his nuts screwed on tightly. He persecuted Christians, destroyed churches, and rejected Jesus as the Christ. In Acts, while Saul was taking the road to Damascus (There is a song about that), God spoke to him and said, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.” Saul was then sent to Damascus where he spent several days with the disciples. Immediately, Saul, now called Paul, began to preach that Jesus was the Son of God. Paul was also the writer of Romans, 1 Corinthians, 2 Corinthians, and 10 other books of the bible. (How would that look on a resume?)

The point? Can you imagine the testimony that Paul would be able to tell. He rejected Jesus completely and even killed his followers, yet became one of Jesus’ most faithful servants! So do we really need to be completely transformed from cigarette smoking, tattoo wearing, shoplifting punk teenagers to have a testimony like Paul’s? Well, probably. But, I guess the real question should be do we need to have a testimony like Paul had to have the most impact on others?

Now for me, I come from a family which kept an eye on me morally. There was to be no lying, swearing, or even rudeness in my house, or anywhere for that matter. I’m not saying that I didn’t participate in any of those actions, because like everyone, I made my share of mistakes. My point is, it would have been quite hard for me to hide from my parents the fact that I had been out drinking for example. So stuff like that, I never attempted. Of course I had and still have my flaws, but none of them really seem too terrible. It would be hard for me to say that my life had been transformed completely.

You’re probably asking yourself, “when is he going to answer the question?” Well, the answer is of course not. Now you’re probably asking yourself, “What was the question?” Generally speaking, do we really have to have the most extreme life change as we possibly can to have the greatest influence in leading others to Jesus? The answer (once again) is of course not. Now granted, sometimes it is pretty amazing to hear just how much some lives have changed, but believe it or not, a testimony like mine can be just as effective. Because, believe it or not, some people think that living a semi-decent life, along with going to church is enough to get into heaven. Even hearing an extreme testimony such as that of Paul, is not enough to convince him or her otherwise. Some people need to hear a testimony from someone who has gone through the same things as that person may be going through for it to actually click. Just pray. Ask God how you can use your testimony to lead others to Jesus. He has a plan… for my testimony, and yours, just as he did for Paul.

Yes that’s right, a long time ago, I started writing a fictional book.  I just came across it today while looking for another book that I had started…. long story.  Anyway, I thought I would share what I found.  A lot of what I wrote seems to have references into my life.  I guess that’s part of writing.  I did find some typos and some things that I would change if I were to write it now, but for the sake of preservation, I didn’t alter this in anyway.  So from all the way back to 2004, here is my first attempt at writing a fiction book.

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1. It wasn’t easy being new in town. Nor was it easy being the newest enrollment at Alexandria High School. Everyone had told him to make the best of this change, but when it came right down to it, Steve, which was short for Stephen, didn’t want to. He just wanted to be home, or what used to be home anyway. He had moved nearly one thousand miles from what he had known his whole life. Steve Tucker’s dad was a big time salesman for a large oil company. He was near the top of the company’s top selling list. Of course traveling came with the job, but it was usually only throughout central New York state. When the company decided to take strategic action to boost sales in the Mid Atlantic Region, Steve’s dad was the man for the job. Of course, being a top seller, he would not have been fired for declining, but he wouldn’t have received that twenty-five percent increase in salary which had become Stephen Senior’s main defense in arguing the move. Now, Steve and his family were in Maryland.

Steve was a senior in high school. He received decent grades slightly above average. He had also played on the school’s basketball during his tenth and eleventh grade years and had planned on trying out for the team again this year. That was before the move. He was by no means the best player on the team. He was your average four points and two rebounds a game, second string forward. He probably had a good chance of making the team now, as Alexandria was a slightly smaller school than his previous, maxing out at just under one thousand students, but why even try he thought. Of course, this was a result of a small depression and desire to give up on everything that he had acquired as a result of the move.

He had been in town for three days and today was his first day at school. Steve was early. The bell was to ring at eight am. According to his car stereo’s clock it was seven thirty-nine. Steve was supposed to report to the office to pick up his class schedule and get his locker assignment. Steve grabbed his backpack from the back seat of his 1983 Camaro.

The car was his pride and joy. Old, yes, but it was in fine working order. Steve had acquired the car a couple of years before he got his driver’s license. At the time, it wasn’t much to look at, but Steve took it upon himself to make the car an ongoing project. He did as much as he could, as cheaply as he could. This included redoing much of the interior and having the car repainted just last year. Steve did most of the body work himself. He always found time to do some modifying, fixing, or tinkering a few times a week. Now the car was nearly spotless. It was royal blue with white racing stripes down the center, and to protect it from the upcoming winter weather, Steve had recently applied a fresh coat of wax which seemed to make the car sparkle in the sun. Steve took an admiring look at it one more time, made sure it was locked, and made his way for the main entrance.

No one took notice of Steve walking up the front stairs, nor did they acknowledge his presence as he walked through the doors and into the semi-crowded hallway. Steve knew that this school was slightly larger than his previous, but was it so large that the students didn’t even notice a new face? Steve quickly located the main office and made his way in. He stepped up to the desk where an older woman sat entering something into her computer. She had dark curly hair and glasses that seemed to big for her face. The nametag on the front of the desk read Ms. Chezeneck. Steve decided it best to avoid trying to pronounce the name at all costs.

Without looking up or ceasing from her typing, the lady asked, “Can I help you?”

“Um, yeah. I’m new. My mom called in a couple days ago. She said I’d be here today.”

“Name?” she said bluntly, now taking a break from her work.

“Steve. Steve Tucker.”

Ms. Chezeneck scanned over some type of list and spoke up, “How about Stephen Tucker?”

“Yeah, that too,” Steve replied while wondering to himself why he didn’t clear that up the first time.

“Okay, give me one minute; I have to go make a copy of this schedule. While I’m gone, you can have a seat over there.”

Steve moved slowly across the room as he looked around taking in everything that he could. From the office, he could see out into the main hallway. More students were coming in now as it was getting closer to eight o’clock. There were so many faces, so many people that he had never seen before. In a way it was intimidating and it made him nervous. In another way he was somewhat excited. Steve always enjoyed trying new things and meeting new people. However, in this case, the excitement wasn’t enough to change his spirits. Oh how he wished he could be back home. The school year was only about one quarter of the way finished. He wondered why he couldn’t just have stayed to finish his last year of high school back in New York. Then, he remembered his dad’s speech about the move which included three main points: a twenty-five percent pay increase, an opportunity for change, and a twenty-five percent pay increase. He was stuck here.

The secretary returned and handed Steve his schedule along with a few other various forms that were supposed to be signed by his parents. “There’s a small map of the school on the back of your schedule if you need it. It’s really a piece of cake though. Just remember that one hundred classes are on the first floor, and two hundred are on the second. Then all you have to know is that there are 4 wings: A, B, C, and D. A is the main wing while the other three run perpendicular. You’ll be fine, and if you need me, I’ll be right here,” she explained, “Oh, and your locker number and combination are on there too.”

He stepped back out into the hallway, which, by this point, Steve assumed had reached its maximum capacity. From his end, he could see all the way down to the other. Most students were at their lockers grabbing books while others just leaned up against them while talking in groups. Lockers could be heard slamming over the loud voices and conversation. The view was much like any high school hallway scene on a television sitcom. As he made his way through the crowds of students he couldn’t help but notice some of the girls that he passed. Hey, he was a guy.

Steve had had a girlfriend a couple of years back. Her name was Amber McDow. She was by no means his first crush, but she was his first girlfriend. Steve’s dad had always told him that he was far too young to get involved with women, and he was probably right. In fact, Steve knew he was right, especially after the relationship ended not too long after it started, but that never stopped him from pursuing members of the opposite gender. His problem was the he was always nervous around girls. He thought that with a little confidence, he’d be set.

From an outward appearance, he wasn’t repulsive to look at. He was tall, but not too tall. He was athletic, but wasn’t bulging. He was also smart, but wasn’t a nerd. Steve had short brown hair. It was cut the like a buzz cut, but it was slightly longer. His eyes were a brownish green. Sometimes they were more brown then green and vice versa. After seventeen years of life he still had figured that phenomenon out.

Steve decided it would be best to find his first class before the bell rang. Though he would have a good excuse, being new and all, there was no sense in showing up late and drawing extra attention to himself. According to his schedule, his first class was Physics with Mr. Baker in room D 204. He knew the 204 was on the second floor and, he assumed that the wings ran in order started at the front of the school. If that were the case, the D wing would be at the back.

Sure enough, it was. Beside each door there was a room number that clearly defined this hall as the D-wing. Steve quickly and easily found his class and entered. A man sat at a desk in the front of the classroom which was faced away from the door and perpendicular to the other desks in the room. From the teacher’s back, Steve could tell that this man had a normal build. He had short dark hair and a small bald spot on the top center of his head. Steve walked over to him to find that this man was going through a stack of papers. Steve assumed he was grading tests.

“Mr. Baker?” Steve asked quietly as so not to startle the man.

“Yes?” was the response given by the man in the chair without looking up. The man turned quickly and glanced at Steve. Then, just as quickly as he had turned to face him, he turned back. After a second or so, after it had sunk in that Steve’s face was unfamiliar, the man turned back. “Oh. I’m sorry. You must be Stephen,” the man said, now in the process of standing up.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Steve replied.

The man shot out his hand. “The name’s Mr. Baker,” he said as Steve shook his hand, “but all my students call me Mr. Baker. If that makes sense?” By now Mr. Baker’s face was lit up with a smile that stretched across his face. He had a well trimmed goatee and was dressed casually in tan kakis and a nice red sweater. “Stephen, where are you from? Or do you prefer Steve?” he asked without losing eye contact.

Steve shrugged. “Umm, it doesn’t matter. Half the people in the world call me Steve, the other half, Stephen, and I’m from up in mid-state New York.”

“Really? I’ve got some distant relatives that live up in New York. Where exactly, I don’t think I know. Hold on. It’s some goofy name for a town.” Mr. Baker was now scratching his head and looking up at the ceiling. “Horseheads!” he blurted out. “That’s it.”

“Yeah I know where that’s at,” Steve replied.

“What a name for a town, huh? Anyway, so you’re in my class?” Steve nodded. “You’re going to need a book and a syllabus.” Mr. Baker started towards a storage cabinet on the far side of the classroom. “Let me just get those for you and you’ll be all set.”

“Sound’s good,” Steve said, trying his best to act confident. By this point a few other students had ventured into the classroom. Mr. Baker retrieved his book and syllabus from the cabinet and placed it on a desk a few rows back.

“This seat isn’t taken,” he said, “so, you can sit here.” The bell rang. Steve made his way back to the desk where the teacher stood. “That was the early bell. There will be another in three minutes. My students like to come in at the last second,” Mr. Baker said as he checked his watch. “Steve, I’m glad you could be here with us.” Mr. Baker’s smile seemed to be permanent.

Steve was surprised. He never expected to be treated this well entering his new classes, especially after the way Mrs. whatever her name was in the main office treated him. He was even more impressed with Mr. Baker’s smile. It seemed endless. Something about this teacher told Steve that when Mr. Baker said he was glad to have him here, he really meant it. Steve took his seat. By this point, Mr. Baker had resumed his position at his front desk grading papers. Steve decided to take the next three minutes to look over the syllabus that he had been given. He read through all of the standard stuff that would be required throughout the class. At the very bottom of the paper there was a PS. It read:

To all my students:

I have included my home phone number and email address on this syllabus. If you ever need any help on your Physics homework or assignments, feel free to email me or call me at home. Even if you just need someone to talk to, you may call me. It does not have to be about Physics. I want to help you with your Physics as much as I possibly can, and I know that sometimes other things can get in the way of your school work. So, if you need someone to talk to, just remember, I’m here.

Sincerely,

Mr. Baker

Steve knew there was something different about this teacher, and it was something good. He only hoped that he would have the same kind of luck with the rest of his teachers.

2. He didn’t. His entire day consisted of five classes, one gym class, a lunch, and a study hall. The lunch was surprising good despite all the jokes that are usually aimed at the quality of cafeteria food. Steve partook

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As you can see, I only made it to chapter 2.  Seems to be how my motivation goes.  I start so many projects that only get slightly off the ground.  Maybe someday I’ll pick this one up again.