My Problem With the Clean Fiction Movement

For a long time, I struggled with referring to my writing as clean fiction.

Don’t get me wrong—I do write mostly clean. For me, that looks like avoiding language and graphic sexual content in my books.

But then I’d see posts from the clean fiction community where they would describe any such content (language, sexual content, violence/gore, and/or sensitive topics such as mental health, social issues or trauma) as MORALLY WRONG and a GRAVE SIN.

But I hadn’t opted out of writing language and sex because I believed it was a GRAVE SIN. I just didn’t like reading it. So I didn’t write it either. Full stop.

And the longer I interacted with book reviews from the clean fiction community, the more I realized that I was cool with a lot of things they weren’t.

For instance, I highly recommend The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness. It’s one of the best novels I’ve read dealing with toxic gender roles and religious trauma. It also so happens to have frequent language and some extremely intense violence and gore.

In the circles of writers I’m in, I interact with people everyday who would clutch their pearls that I would ever suggest reading such a book. And I also interact with people who have watched and recommended far more explicit, more than I personally would read or watch.

If I’m being honest? I relate way more to the people who are okay with a little bit more in their fiction.

I struggle to relate with the clean fiction movement.

Because, sure, my fiction doesn’t have language or sex. But that doesn’t mean I won’t deal with tough topics like abuse and mental health and social issues. That doesn’t mean I won’t have the occasional gory scene, or even go a little bit dark for the purposes of the story. And that doesn’t mean that as I grow and develop my beliefs and standards more that I won’t explore topics that maybe I thought I wouldn’t.

The clean fiction movement has put us all at a disadvantage.

I went into this back in my January blog post where I discussed representation in Christian fiction. I told the story of an interaction with a clean fiction reader who was outraged that a Christian YA fantasy had a character with implied sexual trauma.

A lot of us, especially if you grew up Christian or homeschooled, grew up in that movement. And that’s not necessarily bad. Especially before you’ve figured out your worldview for yourself, it’s important to have some reliable help choosing what stays and what goes.

But some of us were taught that ALL books that contained a certain content (whether that be language, sex, gore, magic, or any combination of the above) were evil. (And it might be for you, more on that later.)

As a result, I at least developed an unhealthy stigma around books that broke those molds. I couldn’t tell you why I thought they were bad. I just knew I would undoubtedly burn in hell if I even looked at the cover too long.

Is the clean fiction movement all bad then? Not at all. There’s a lot of people within the movement that recognize that their standards aren’t for everyone and that authenticity trumps cleanliness.

But as a whole, the clean fiction movement, as it stands right now, exists less to tell true stories without harsh content, and more to allow readers to filter out the hard things they don’t want to think about.

It looks good, though! They can display their books free of sexual content with their pretty covers, usually with flowers and cottagecore and such.

But the clean fiction movement has become about supporting untrue stories.

Hey. Am I saying you have to have sex and cursing to tell a true story? Not at all. I’ve got all sorts of authentic stories on my shelves that just so happen to be clean. But those stories are authentic because they were willing to wade into the hard and sometimes messy things. The majority of the clean fiction community is not willing to do that anymore. They’re more concerned with how much “spice” is in a book and what the curse count is.

Please note that I am NOT referring to all clean fiction authors. I wrote an anthology with clean fiction authors who all grapple with hard things in their stories. (Kellyn Roth especially is an amazing author who deals with sexual issues and mental health in her clean fiction, and I highly recommend giving her a follow.)
And I’m here to remind you that I do still write clean fiction myself! My goal is to write authentic stories that are free of ignorant stereotypes and harsh content.

Recently, I read a question and answer post where someone asked if a particular TV show was okay for them as a Christian. (The show in question had fantasy-world magic and dealt with social issues around diversity.)

I related a lot. As I grew up and branched out and began defining my standards for myself, I worried so much that a book I chose to read or to not read would end up sending me to hell. I didn’t feel like I could trust my conscience (which God gave me!) and know when to put a book down. Was I sinful and perverse because I could read more content than my peers without feeling guilty?

Of course, the post got a myriad of answers. Some said that what you read and watch doesn’t affect anything. Which I don’t think is true. I’ve written time and again about how fiction and how it represents real world issues does affect how we think about an issue, and in turn, it shapes the world we live in.

And of course, the clean fiction community swooped to the “rescue,” saying that they definitely shouldn’t mess around with such things and that it is a gateway to hell.

But there was only one answer that really stuck with me. And I think it defines really well what I’m trying to do with my fiction.

I’m going to paraphrase it, since it was a long answer.

They pointed out that Jesus gave us two commands—love God and love other people. So, they reasoned, you can sort out whether you should be reading or watching something and separate it from the hellfire anxiety by asking yourself whether the story in question is encouraging you to love God or love other people.

Thinking about that question might lead you to read cleaner fiction than you normally would. Or it might lead you to try some shows or books that you ordinarily wouldn’t.

In my case, answering that question is what has led me to largely avoid writing language and graphic sexual content. But it’s also led me to include other things, other hard things such as abuse and mental health and trauma.

I think that concept has really set me free. I finally understand why I’ve comfortable with one book and tossing out another one even though they have the exact same content level, sometimes even when both of them are clean books. 

Can we face it? A book can be as clean as can be and not encourage you to love God and love others. And sometimes, a book that’s a little messy can encourage you to love God and love others.

So, long story short, I’m still not on good terms with that clean fiction label. I write books that encourage you to love God and others. Maybe those books just so happen to be clean. But the squeaky clean isn’t going to be what defines it. It’s going to be defined by the hard and messy.

If you’d like to read the post that really got me started thinking about this, check out @word.journey.hope.ann on Instagram. Story Embers also has some excellent resources on their website and Instagram page that get into the nitty-gritty of the issue as well.