Anyone who knows me knows I’ve been counting down to Spider-Man: Brand New Day since Marvel announced it.
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Tom Holland’s Spider-Man has been my favorite Marvel hero ever since Captain America: Civil War. I’d missed the other films’ theatrical runs, so I decided that no matter what, I was going to see this one.

I tracked all the leaked trailer snippets. I researched fan theories. I even got opening weekend tickets so I wouldn’t fall prey to spoilers.

And it did not disappoint. A movie has not made me feel so seen in a long time. (I cried twice. I regret nothing.) After the movie, once the hype and adrenaline quieted, I realized this story very much mirrored my own and spoke into my current struggles.

So consider this my official review of Spider-Man: Brand New Day, with a dash of encouragement. Maybe my noticings can help you out, too.

Obviously, there will be MASSIVE spoilers ahead, so if you’ve not seen it, please do yourself the biggest of favors and come back here after you’ve watched the movie.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day is about adulthood.

I was fifteen when Tom Holland’s Spider-Man made his first MCU appearance. Ironically, Peter Parker was also fifteen. Even though I didn’t get into Marvel until later, I still grew up alongside this character. I related deeply to him for many reasons, but most of all, he felt very real to my teen experience.

Now I’m twenty-five, and this character I grew up with is also in his twenties. He takes down crime bosses, saves the city, and then has to deal with the laundry he put off.

To quote a Conan Gray song, growing up doesn’t always go how we’d like it. It doesn’t for Peter. He loses everyone he loves. Everyone he cares about forgets him and moves on. He’s starting over completely from scratch, and he’s not sure he likes who he is becoming.

No one teaches you how to be an adult. I’m not sure anybody can, at least not entirely. Sometimes adulthood feels like a mountain of things we’re supposed to instinctively know how to do.

And when we don’t, it’s all too easy to believe we failed. We look around at other adults our age, and they seem to have it all together. They thrive at work and smash their goals and they probably know how to do their taxes, too. It feels like we’re falling behind.

On top of that, everyone else is changing, too. Family dynamics shift. Friends go to college or move away or get married. It’s all too easy to feel alone and forgotten, and it’s all too easy to isolate ourselves so we never feel that way again.

Growing up can be weird and scary—but this movie reminded me that it will be okay. It won’t be weird and scary forever.

But for now, while you’re still in the weird and scary, you don’t have to have it all together. No one here on earth has it all together, no matter how much it may look like they do. We’re all struggling to one degree or another, and you’re not a failure if you can’t keep up with it all. And we still need each other in that.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day is about burnout. 

Peter’s colleagues—the few colleagues he has—beg him to slow down. His own body screams at him to stop. But Peter insists on pushing through.

So his body takes matters into its own hands. It’s almost like constant stress and pressure can mess you up physically? Who knew?

I’ve discussed this on my blog before, but I went through a time where I could not write. An ability I had always had disappeared. I was dealing with stress and trauma, all while trying very hard to be a successful human. My body and mind begged me to rest, but my responsibilities were always there to remind me that I didn’t have time. (I wrote more about it HERE.)

Back then, I think I optimistically believed that I had cracked the code, and if I just followed my own advice, when the burnout came back, it wouldn’t be so bad, and one day, it would even disappear. That’s not what happened, at least not yet. I still go through burnout cycles and all the fun stuff that comes with that.

But this movie reminded me of the advice I tried to give myself back then. It’s okay to rest. Take naps. Set smaller goals for yourself. Step back from a non-essential responsibility. Your whole world won’t implode (most likely). Choose the form of rest that works for you and what you need right now.

Because if you don’t choose to rest, if you don’t choose to listen to what your body and brain tell you, then they will make sure you do. Also, you might mutate into a spider.  

Spider-Man: Brand New Day is about healing.

Ultimately, Peter’s story is about healing. Peter has spent the past several years desperately shoving away his hurt and his feelings and his grief.

All throughout my childhood and into my adulthood, I did the same. I got really good (or at least I thought I was) at shoving my feelings away until I literally couldn’t anymore—and then feeling ashamed for letting them out at all.

Eventually, all those feelings came back to haunt me. I had to admit that I had feelings that scared me. I was deeply angry and deeply hurt and deeply sad. And I couldn’t just tuck them away for a more convenient time. I had to feel all those feelings.

Peter finally hits a point where he has to deal with his own rage and grief and depression. He can’t just shut off the parts of him that he doesn’t like, no matter how much he wants to. He finally has to feel it all and accept all those parts of himself.

But that doesn’t mean he lets his bad traits drive him. You can’t ignore the parts of yourself that you don’t like, but those parts don’t have to control you, either.

His healing also comes through reconnecting with the people he’s kept away. Friendship matters, especially when you’re an adult, whether it’s strengthening relationships you already have or seeking out new ones. Peter has to be honest, be vulnerable and let other people in to what’s going on in his head (sometimes literally). Adulting can be weird and scary, and it’s so, so important that we don’t do it alone.

And when he opens up about his deepest hurts, he becomes the person his younger self needed. He becomes the person Aunt May was for him.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day brought me both comfort and hope. Comfort that I’m not alone in my struggle, that I can rest as long as I need, and that I’m not failing or falling behind. And hope that I can become the person my younger self needed, that I can be there for other people, and that I’m not alone.

Spider-Man movies have always been a place where I feel seen and explore my struggles, and this latest installment is no exception. Take whatever reminder you need with you today, and know you are not alone.

Have you seen Spider-Man: Brand New Day yet? What are your thoughts? Let me know in the comments below! 

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult fantasy. I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want and maybe a metaphor about grief. Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates on my dieselpunk Anastasia reimaging. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! ​

​I missed the 2016 nostalgia trend, but let’s revisit 2016 anyway. Would you look at that—2016 happens to be the year I attended my first writers’ conference.

I was fifteen years old, studying a college campus map for the first time to locate my first session. My bag overflowed with anything and everything I could possibly need—more than I needed. I was an hour away from home and staying at a hotel, which seemed like the journey of a lifetime.

Now let’s come back to 2026. I’m twenty-five years old, but this time I am the map, wearing a very official volunteer badge and pointing people in the right direction. This time, I’m five and half hours from home in an unfamiliar city. And I’m doing all this while dressed as Inigo Montoya, complete with an eyeliner mustache.
2016 me could have never.

I make no secret that this blog is for the girls who feel a little too weird. While I do give some writing advice here, I do try to make sure this appeals to you whether you’re an artist or not.

But a lot of you self-proclaimed weird girls are creatives, which means you may find yourself at a writers’ conference or convention this summer.

I’ve attended writers’ conference for ten years now. As I compare my most recent experiences to my first one back in 2016, I’ve discovered some tips and tricks I wish I’d known back then. Whether you’re attending your first conference or your tenth, I want to share those tips with you today.

Have a plan, then throw it out.

I used to build myself a schedule down to the very last minute. What sessions I would attend, where they were located, how much time I needed to travel in between rooms. Overkill? Perhaps.

That doesn’t make it bad. I still put together a little schedule. I pick out my sessions and study the map. It helps me feel more prepared, and it helps me get excited for the event.

But now I know that when I get to the conference, I’ll likely throw out that plan.

Not everything will go according to plan. You might find that you can’t keep up with all the sessions you scheduled. You might miss a signing for an author you hoped to meet. You might leave your costume sword five and a half hours away. (I definitely have never done that.) You cannot do it all, and you will miss opportunities.

But new opportunities that you could never have dreamed will take their place. You might miss a session so you can grab an impromptu snack with some new friends. Or you might snag a last-minute appointment with a faculty member. Or you might meet a favorite author wandering around the expo hall.

Grab those opportunities and go with the flow. But falling back on a color-coded schedule never hurts either.

Prioritize people.

Don’t get me wrong—teaching is invaluable. But the most powerful thing about conferences and conventions is the connections.

So if you must choose between two spectacular opportunities, as a general rule, I would always advise whichever one lets you connect with fellow attendees and faculty.

Go sightseeing with friends. Chat with the people beside you before a session begins. Start an empty table at meals and see who joins it.

And be open to unlikely connections. When I first started out, I had this vision that I’d magically find myself at a table with people who wrote exactly the same genre I did. And I have found those people. But I also found myself at a table with a technical writer. Or sitting beside a cozy mystery author in a session. Don’t assume that they have nothing to share with you just because of the differences between you, or that you have nothing to share with them.

Respect your need for space.

As I’ve written about throwing out the plan and interacting with people, you might feel panic rising.

Let’s be clear—the only reason I can embrace that spontaneity is because I build in rest and alone time.

Head back to your hotel room at a good hour so you can relax and sleep. Take yourself out for lunch—just you. Walk the campus between sessions.

Coordinating with people I already know has helped me. My writing group got a room together at a recent conference, so I knew every day I could return to a quiet room with familiar people.

Don’t feel like you have to do it all, and don’t panic if an opportunity passes you by. What is meant to happen will happen.

Do the brave thing.

I feel like I shapeshift into another person at conferences. I become this creature who fearlessly approaches authors I admire and asks them to sign my books. This alternate me can chat up a random stranger in the expo without effort and give directions without flinching.

Writers’ conferences are a space where you’re with people who get the creative life. Let that make you brave. Do the thing that might seem weird or impulsive anywhere else. Approach people. Raise your hand and ask questions in sessions. Sign up for open mic night. Draw on an eyeliner mustache and dress like Inigo Montoya.

Now, obviously, there are impulsive things you shouldn’t do. Politeness and manners and common sense do still exist here. But also don’t be afraid to stretch yourself and do the thing that feels out there. I assure you, it’s probably more normal than you think.

These tips might have made 2016 me break out in hives. But they’re the things I wish I could tell her most, and they made my recent conferences such wonderful, enriching experiences. I hope this article brings you both some peace of mind while also making you more eager for what lies ahead. Approach your conferences with confidence!

Are you attending any conferences, conventions, or retreats this summer? What are some events you’ve loved in the past? How many conferences have you attended? Let me know in the comments below!

​This year will be THE year. The year I get my act together.

I’ll make the perfect resolution and keep it flawlessly. I’ll find the habit that will fix all my problems. I’ll reach the achievement or fulfill that dream. Whatever I do, this year will NOT end up like last year.

Sound familiar? Oh, yeah, that sounds like how I opened last month’s article about holiday stress.

And yet, less than a week after Christmas morning and all the joy that brings, I set my high expectations on another celebration—the new year. But this time, instead of stress, I battle disappointment.

How can I feel disappointed when everything is fresh and new?

Maybe we feel disappointed when everyone seems to have a life-changing resolution, but we don’t even know what we want yet.

When the habit that was supposed to fix everything fades after a few short weeks.

When the year that was supposed to bring happiness and joy starts out mundane or less than perfect.

When we watch others reach their goals and dreams and we feel left behind.

Disappointment doesn’t always come with a handy step by step guide to get over it. I don’t know that I can lay out a neat bullet point article like I could with stress last month. But my new year did arrive with a realization, a realization that I hope comforts you, and maybe challenges you, if that’s what you need.

When the new year rolls in, we look back over the previous one. It’s only natural. In all that reflection, sometimes we focus on the things that went wrong and just how desperately we want this year to be easier than last year.

Or we focus on the things that went right. We scheme how we can replicate it, and we worry about what this new year might hold.  

Or maybe we focus on all the things we haven’t done yet, the things that seem so far away and distant no matter how hard we work or how much we want them.

I, for one, can get a little mopey.

So we make resolutions and habits and promises. Because if I can just get on top of myself and my own tendencies, everything will HAVE to go right, won’t it? Previous years have taught us that we can’t control other people, and we can’t control our life circumstances, so we control our bodies, our feelings, our habits.

Or at least we try.

So is it a control issue? Maybe. But I suggest that it might be about something deeper.

It might be about hope.

Hope, that thing that keeps us going. That mystical force that seems so out of reach. Everybody puts their hope in something, whether or not we realize we’re doing it. Everybody has something that keeps them going.

When a new year rolls around, our hopes are elevated and renewed. When we look at all the ways we were unfulfilled last year, it’s easy for us to shift our hope to the wrong things.

We put our hope in the new year instead of the One Who knows exactly what’s going to happen in every second of that new year.

We put our hope in resolutions and habits. In the experiences we hope to have. In our own strength, control, and achievement.

Hope in those things will ultimately be disappointed. Our world does not run the way it should, so even the best experience will fade and the strongest person will fail. Our broken world physically cannot fulfill our expectations.

Perfect, Rachel. Thank you for ruining New Year’s.

But there is one hope that will not disappoint us—even if it may feel like it now.

The One Who came at Christmas so He could grow up, die in our place for our brokenness, and rise again so we could live in that hope.

I’m not saying resolutions and habits are bad. I have quite a few habits that have helped me over the past year. But unfortunately, no matter how much water I drink or sleep I get, it won’t solve all my problems. (Dang, I wish.)

So even as we make our resolutions and plot out our habits this new year, we remember our true Hope. Each of us can find a way to keep that hope close, whether it’s preaching truth to ourselves, reading God’s Word, praying, or talking with friends who share the same hope. Maybe there is a habit that could bring you closer to that hope.

And when disappointments come, as they will, we can use those opportunities to shift our disappointment into relationship with Him, reminding ourselves what is true.

And that doesn’t just go for disappointments. It goes for the joys that await this year, too.

Alright, alright, I know it sounds like I spent this whole article putting down resolutions and habits, but . . . do you have a resolution or habit you’re hoping to improve this year? Or maybe an experience or milestone you’re looking forward to? Let me know in the comments below!

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult fantasy novels. But more importantly, I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want and maybe a metaphor about grief. Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates on the dieselpunk Anastasia retelling I’m working on. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! 

This year will be THE year. The year I get my act together. I’ll finish all my gift shopping on Black Friday so I get the best deals. I’ll neatly pencil all my events on the calendar, and none of them will ever conflict with each other. And after all that, I’ll still have time to enjoy a Christmas movie.
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*Enter stress*

Because the Black Friday ship has long since sailed and I still don’t know what to get my coworkers. Oh, and those cards still needs signed. And how did I totally space our local tree lighting?

The holiday stress is REAL. No matter how much we love the holidays, how we count the days until they arrive, how much fun they bring—they’re still out of the norm. They’re still a lot. And sometimes it feels like too much. (Maybe it is too much.)  

I’m not an expert. Anyone who’s seen my schedule knows that. But I’ve stumbled upon a few things over the past year that have made this year a more peaceful one. Maybe those things will comfort you too.

But first, pray.

I know, I know. It sounds cheesy and hyper-spiritual.

“Well, that’s all good and fine since you’re literally a saint, but what about me, a regular person?”

“What happens when I HAVE been praying, and my stress hasn’t budged an inch?”

“Did I do it wrong? Or did it just not work?”

Saying a prayer will not make your stress magically disappear. Physically, you may not be at peace. Emotionally, you may not be at peace.

But prayer puts us spiritually at peace. It helps us see this season just a little bit more like God sees it. It helps us slow down, take a breath, interrupt our spiraling thoughts. It reminds us that we’re not facing the music alone. And the parties. And the shopping. And the whatever. Because we’re not alone. Jesus is doing all this holiday stuff with us, and I feel like He knows a thing or two about stress.

You don’t need a fancy prayer. Recall an aspect of His character. Thank Him for a good experience you had. Or even just say, “I’m feeling stressed, I need your help.”

You CANNOT *clap* DO *clap* IT *clap* ALL *clap*

You can’t. Don’t try. You will get stressed and burned out. Please don’t ask how I know this.

You cannot do all the things for all the people. Prayer reminds us who God is, but life still reminds us that we are human. We are finite.

The season will not fall apart if you don’t do all the things, because you’re not the one holding all things together.

Pick the things that matter to you. Start with the non-negotiables—job obligations or traditions that you absolutely will not miss. Then build out. What do you want to do? What will bring you joy? What will help you bring others joy? Don’t fear prioritizing!

Would you rather do all the things and not be able to enjoy them or do some things and be able to enjoy the things that you chose?

It’s okay if you miss an opportunity.

You can’t do it all, and you don’t need to feel awful about missing an opportunity here or there. If you have no interest in any of the Christmas things you used to love, that’s a different matter entirely. But if you don’t watch all the Christmas movies this year, or if you decorate the tree a little differently, or if you miss an event, it’s okay. It probably means it would have been too much after all.

The things will happen this season that are meant to happen. And yes, our involvement does affect what happens, but quite frankly, the things that need to happen will happen whether or not we’re involved. It’s more important that we are present in the opportunities that do work out. And sometimes missing an opportunity here or there opens the door for a new opportunity, a new experience, or even a new tradition.

Guess what? The holidays come every year. This isn’t the last Christmas there will ever be. You will either enjoy all the things next year, or we’ll be in heaven and I’m guessing they have a way better Christmas than we do. Those missed opportunities might just come back to you.

Be intentional with what you do have.

You can’t be in two places at once, but you can choose that fun Christmas musical and add a little laughter to a hectic weekend. Your work schedule may be wild, but you can watch the Christmas lights as you drive home. Your family schedule might be hectic, but you can still gather and watch twenty minutes of a Christmas movie.

When we release the things we can’t and don’t need to control, we make room to be present and intentional in the moments that we do have and can control.

I can’t control everyone else. I can’t control my work or my friends or my family. I can’t control the weather or anyone else’s schedule.

But I can control myself and how I respond to the situations that come.

So pray first. Know you can’t do it all. Release missed opportunities. And be intentional with the opportunities you do have.

It won’t magically cure all the season’s stress. But it’s a little something that might help, just a bit.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have Christmas movies to watch. And maybe some last minute gift shopping to do. 

​How have your holidays been this year? Is there something special you're looking forward to? Do you have any special ways you handle holiday stress? Let me know in the comments below! 

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult fantasy novels that walk the line between the darker elements of fantasy and the weirder elements of cartoons. But more importantly, I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want and maybe a metaphor about grief. Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates about what I’m reading, watching, and writing. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! 

Have you watched Black Widow?

My sister and I rewatched it for the second time recently. I still had to look away during the opening credits sequence. We laughed over the jokes we’d forgotten and gasped over moments that caught us off guard.

What surprised me most was how this is a perfect “girl power” story done right.

In a twist that shocks no one, I very much support girl power stories. Some Christian artists tear down any example of “woke feminism,” the mystic and buzzy words that spell doom for most heroines.

Here’s the thing though. As I grew up, and especially during my teen years, I couldn’t relate to the heroines I saw and read. No matter how demure I was forced to look on the outside, inside I never felt like I fit common feminine stereotypes.

So as I made more viewing and reading choices for myself, I craved those heroines who were different. I sought out strong heroines, women who challenged injustice and abuse, women who did the things everyone said girls couldn’t do.

And I found Natasha and Yelena.

Marvel certainly hasn’t always hit the mark with their heroines. Heck, it took them over a decade to get Black Widow herself right. (I refuse to discuss the travesty that is her representation in Iron Man 2.) But they did finally get there. And we're going to explore how--as well as how it works for your own leading ladies. 

No One Gets Pushed Aside

If you’re like me, you might have come here to create a strong female character that isn’t “aggressive” or “abrasive” to your audience.

And we’ll get there. But I also want to challenge that idea. 

With women-led stories, when commentators call them aggressive and abrasive, it’s often code for something else. Aggressive means it steps a little too close to my own pet prejudices, challenging me in uncomfortable ways. Abrasive means that the heroine is too loud, too strong, too something or another, and she makes us feel threatened.

Stories like Black Widow should make me uncomfortable. It’s hard to not cover my eyes when girls are dragged screaming away from the only family they know, and said family watches them go. And I need that discomfort.

Aggressive and abrasive can also mean something else, though, and we’ve all read a girl power story like this. Where the heroine tears down everyone around her, regardless of gender, so she can lift herself to the heights she needs.

Black Widow deals very up close and personally with some very evil men. And yet, never once did they tear down a man to lift their woman up.

I hear you. “But Alexei—” you say.

And it’s true. The characters—and us, the audience—mercilessly mock Alexei. But we don’t mock him because “he’s a man and all men are dumb and stupid.”

No, we mock him because he’s Alexei. He could have been a woman and we would have laughed the same way. His character traits and the things we may or may not mock him for are not tied to his gender. And in the end, he has the chance to choose something more heroic, just like our heroines do, whether or not he ultimately takes it.

There aren’t very many men in Black Widow, but there’s at least one good dude, even if it’s just the guy who gives Natasha a safe house, or references to how Clint Barton has helped her. Which is so important especially when dealing with heavy subject matter like this film does, where the men would and could be villains.

But in making sure the heroines don’t put anyone down, the film also doesn’t allow anyone to put down the heroines. No other character, regardless of who they are, eclipses Natasha and Yelena. The women take center stage here. But they didn’t push anyone out of the way to get there.

Because they didn’t have to push anyone down to get where they are, Natasha and Yelena are actually stronger. They don’t steal their strength from someone else, male or female. And because of that, their inherent strength is more, because they have enough to stand on their own.  

The Female Gaze (alternatively titled The Importance of Pockets)

Just because they included good guys doesn’t mean they downplayed evil and injustice. Dreykov still exists. There’s a reason I cry during the opening sequence. It is brutal and it is heart-wrenching and it captures feelings that touch every woman on this planet in a way.

On the flipside, the film also includes the unique joys that women experience—whether that’s sisterhood or the value of an outfit with lots of pockets. (If you know you know, and you’re probably a woman.)

I should also note that none of their struggles centered around romance. That’s not to say that it wasn’t represented—Melina had whatever she had with Alexei.

But neither Yelena or Natasha can have children, but they don’t treat themselves like they’re broken. Neither Yelena or Natasha are at all interested in romance right now, and they don’t act like they’re incomplete. (Unlike some other Marvel projects I could name . . . cough, cough, Age of Ultron.)

In a culture that, for all the empowering messages it claims, also tells women that they only matter if they’re attached to someone, it’s refreshing to see a film that neither slanders marriage and family but also recognizes that marriage and family is not a woman’s purpose.

If you have a minute to kill (and I’m guessing you do if you’re reading this), here’s a interesting exercise I stumbled upon in the depths of Google one day. Someone placed the Black Widow Avengers poster beside the Black Widow poster for her titular movie. I won’t even say anything, just take a look at them and guess which film was directed by a woman.

Everything from her costume color to her hairstyle to the angle she faces the camera is affected by a women’s viewpoint.

And if you’re a dude and you’re despairing and thinking this counts you out, let me point out that a man wrote the Black Widow screenplay. Learning these angles and ideas is for everyone, not just women.

This Princess Saves Herself

Hear me on this: There’s nothing wrong with a man saving a woman.

But the vast majority of women have had to save themselves. They have had to fight and kick and claw and scream their way out. So stories where a man saves the woman from all her troubles can feel trite and insulting.

This movie allows for that. Natasha, Yelena, and Melina sever their own nerve so to speak to escape Dreykov and rescue the women around them. 

And yet not every woman is an untouchable savior. Melina allowed Yelena and Natasha to be trafficked and even assisted their trafficker. Natasha attempted to kill Dreykov’s daughter to complete a mission. Yelena . . . okay, Yelena is actually fine for now, although she gets into sketchy stuff later in the MCU.

The heroines are allowed to be messy and imperfect and sometimes deeply wrong.

This is why it was so important that Taskmaster was a woman. Her struggle, Natasha’s struggle, and the ways they mirror each other even as they’re hurting each other has a very raw power. We all support women helping women, but women also sometimes hurt women. Watching Natasha make that right, however imperfectly, means something, much more than if Taskmaster was just another male villain.

When all is said and all is done, the movie is allowed to be a story about women and the myriad of relationships between them. But notice that this movie never says “this is a story about women.” There’s no impassioned go-girls speech. Instead, the filmmakers simply let their heroines take the lead and followed them into all the messy, confusing places of being a girl in this world.

There’s not only something beautiful about that, there’s something powerful. 
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We’ve made it to another August, and here I am, piecing everything together and restarting normal habits after two writers’ conferences. As I write this, I’m staring down “back to school and work” on my weekly calendar, which unfortunately requires me to come back to “normal.” So I’m processing all I learned and all I experienced, because I know I’ll need that fuel, especially these next couple weeks. And since it turned out to be such a long update, I decided I’d post it here, instead of only on my newsletter.
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So let’s get started with my very first Realm Makers!

Thursday

I carpooled with my friend Laurel to Grand Rapids (thank goodness, because city driving terrified me). We chatted about anything and everything, which included but was not limited to poking fun at Michigan billboards. (Seriously, why did Michigan have so many horribly designed billboards on that particular highway?)

This was the first time I can remember that I went to a CITY city. Driving into Grand Rapids, seeing all the tall buildings, and navigating the city streets blew my Indiana country mind.
Laurel was running a booth at the first ever Realm Makers Expo, so I helped her set up, which meant I also got a sneak peek at the convention center and all the expo booths. I’m so glad I arrived a day early. Orienting myself helped fight off that overwhelm.

Until I got to my hotel room. I don’t know if the day’s excitement caught up with me or if it just hit me that I was really here and really doing this. But by the time I found my room, unpacked, and met all my fantastic roommates, I was exhausted and wondering just a bit what I was doing here. A quiet hour in the room and a frozen yogurt trip with my friends Hope and Seth reset my perspective. (Always believe in the power of frozen yogurt and friendship, guys.)
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Friday

Random Discovery: Hotel fountain and fountain time! If I got around in the morning and had a few minutes left, I’d hang out beside the fountain. It helped me take some quiet and start the day well.

I successfully navigated from the hotel to the convention center. As it turns out, hanging around the convention center lobby is a great way to meet people! The Realm Makers staff even trusted me enough to put me on the appointments desk, which made me feel very special.

The conference kicked off with S. D. Smith’s keynote. I’d heard him speak via the Young Writer’s Workshop before, so I enjoyed hearing him teach in person. He has a unique presenting style that I’ve never heard anywhere else. (And skipping forward a bit—I got to meet him and he is just such a genuinely nice person.)

After the keynote, I made a mad dash back to the hotel for my Mabel Pines cosplay. Considering I procrastinated on my costume until the week before, I’m pretty dang proud of that costume. When I ventured back downstairs, the hotel lobby was filled with the usual fancy businesspeople in suits—and a growing crowd of cosplayers. I even worked up enough courage to join the costume parade. (I also may or may not have given directions to Wayne Thomas Batson.)

The awards banquet was like a FANCY fancy dinner. Luckily, we had exactly one person at our table who knew which fork to use. Also, can I just say, the dessert was the best cheesecake ever.

But way better than the cheesecake was the awards ceremony. I’ve read the Realm Awards results online for years now, but hyping up the books I love and celebrating every win in person was very special.

After the banquet, no one hurried to leave. We took pictures with friends, with tablemates, with the awards finalists, and with other cosplayers.

I got a picture with two other Gravity Falls cosplayers—who turned out to be Realm Awards finalist Lindsey Lewellen and her daughter Ann. I also met an epic Kaz Brekker cosplayer whom I very much regret not getting a picture with.

But to be fair, the event staff were telling everyone left that we needed to leave so they could close up the building. Since it was dark out, I took the skywalk back to the hotel. 

Saturday

Random Discovery: the river behind the convention center. I arranged to eat lunch with my friend Suzie next to the river, which was so calming and relaxing. I’m always here for natural moving water.
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We kicked off with Sarah Arthur’s keynote, which was secretly my favorite. I then headed to Lindsay Franklin’s breakout sessions on emotional and spiritual health in writing. And boy, did I need that. She spoke about exactly where I’ve been the past year (if you follow my newsletter, then you know it’s been a struggle lately). I was constantly caught between laughing at her fantastic sense of humor and crying because I just felt so seen and relieved.

I did guiltily sneak out of her session though—because I went to Sara Ella’s book signing! I even arrived early enough to get a physical ARC for her upcoming book. She is such a sweet and kind person.

I crossed off a Realm Makers bucket list item and attended a session by the legendary Carla Hoch—so I now know enough about fight scenes to make me potentially dangerous. Although she’d say I’m not actually the most dangerous person, because I’m not willing to start a fight. Not right now, anyway.  

Then it was off to the expo! Be proud of me, I was self-controlled and only bought four books (I think?), two stickers, and a candle.

The faculty book signing was that evening, so I wandered around taking pictures, meeting authors I love, and getting books signed. I met Kara Swanson, who has been one of the biggest influences on my writing, both through her own books and through her teaching. I then retreated to the bookstore and helped Suzie out. 

Sunday

Sunday morning opened with a beautiful worship service. I loved the mix of traditional hymns and more modern worship songs. The message (given by Bradley Caffee) spoke into all those places of hurt and suffering, both when it comes to our lives and when it comes to writing, in an especially touching way.

Off to the expo again! This time, I met Katie Leigh, which was absolutely insane because I was a hardcore Adventures in Odyssey kid. It felt like a full circle moment.

I also went to Mariposa Aristeo’s ARC drop and book signing. (I actually skipped my lunch break so I could be there.) I’ve followed Mariposa since long before she announced her book, and when I arrived twenty minutes early to find a dozen people already waiting (to the point the staff relocated the line because we were blocking the path), I couldn’t have been happier. I had so much fun meeting her.

I went to Nadine Brandes’ book signing after that, which was such a huge moment, since Nadine’s books were the first Christian fantasies I read that made me go “I want to write like THAT.”

I quickly ate a sandwich by the river and then ducked back inside to help check badges for a panel discussion on genre hopping. I can see genre hopping in my future, so I felt very reassured to hear that yes, it can be done and it can be done successfully.

The conference closed with N. D. Wilson’s keynote. I’d heard a lot of YWW students who swore by his teaching sessions, so I enjoyed getting to hear him speak for the first time. Then I squeezed in one last hour at the expo—during which I met Mike Nawrocki. WHAT. My childhood self would never believe any of this.

And then the closing announcement came over the speakers. Just like that, it was all over. I stayed to help Laurel take down her booth, and it was surreal watching everyone take down the booths that I watched them put together just a few days earlier.

I returned to the hotel for a late dinner and a few hours chatting with my roommates before we all went our separate ways the next morning. 

Monday

And for those wondering, Laurel and I had just as much fun on the way back, which may or may not have involved exploring a used book store and getting ice cream.

Takeaways

It’s so hard to condense that weekend down to even a blog post like this. I met so many wonderful people—authors who have inspired me for years, friends I’ve only ever met online, and friends that I do know in person but got to share this experience with.

It’s also impossible to sort out my biggest takeaways, but let me try.

I’ve been able to implement what I learned in Lindsay’s classes already in the few weeks I’ve been back, as that conference high fades and it’s back to the real world. I know I’ll carry those tools with me to deal with burnout, fear of failure, perfectionism, and more. But beyond that, I know I’ll remember the relief I felt as I heard her take the big scary struggles I’d been battling for months and calmly say “I have slides about that.” The way she approached these topics made me realize they’re not as big and dark as they feel, that they can be overcome.

I’ll also be taking Bradley Caffee’s Sunday message with me. All of us have things in our past that we didn’t choose and we wish we hadn’t had to deal with. All of us have things in our present that we don’t want. But that message has shaped how I look at all those things.

But—and my introvert self can’t believe I’m saying this—the best part was meeting people. Being somewhere I could use the word “dieselpunk” and everyone automatically knew what I meant. Being somewhere people were hyped over my book that I hadn’t even written yet—and I was hyped over theirs. Being somewhere where I could help people out and just listen to them for awhile. Where we wear costumes and ask people for pictures and don’t feel bad about it.

I’d heard that the big draw of Realm Makers is being somewhere with hundreds of people who just “get” it. And based on my experience at my first Realm Makers, I definitely believe that. I’m already scheming and saving with hopes to go next year, planning out potential costumes, and plotting what books I’ll bring with me. 

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult/new adult fantasy novels that walk the line between the darker elements of fantasy and the weirder elements of cartoons. But more importantly, I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want, plus maybe a metaphor about grief? Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates about what I’m reading, watching, and writing. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! ​

If you’ve followed my emails this year, you know that my writing hasn’t gone quite the way I had hoped.

I had planned that I would complete my first fantasy novel this year, and it would be THE ONE. (Whatever that means.)
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I didn’t expect perfection, or at least that’s what I told myself. But I did expect smooth sailing. After all, I’d drafted six publishable novels before this. I would pitch THE ONE, and, if I acknowledged my wildest dreams, I’d publish THE ONE.

None of that happened. THE ONE joined the sad collection of brilliant concepts that I gave up halfway through. Something was off and I couldn’t put my finger on what.

Not even five years ago, I was finishing novels left and right. I still looked back on those stories and characters and loved the work I did.

Now, even when I did struggle through a story and reach the end, I didn’t even like it all that much. I could see the glimmer of something good deep inside them, but they fell far short of all I dreamed they would be. I’d lost that connection that I once had.

And now I couldn’t even finish a story.

I felt like I’d lost the ability to write. No. Worse than that. I felt like I’d lost my creativity, my ability to create a story and a world and characters.

I couldn’t remember a time when I couldn’t write. I’d always had that ability. Stories had always been there. I’d always been writing one story or another. And now when people asked about my writing, I had nothing to show for my hours and hours of work.

I felt like I was letting someone down somewhere.

I was letting myself down.

I know I’ve said a lot about myself, but maybe you can relate, too. Something you could do once is gone, and it feels like it’s taken a part of you with it.

Lots of factors can cause this, some of them serious. So I’m not at all saying  this discussion will cure it all. There are things that are bigger than what we can handle alone.

So I asked my writing mentors and instructors how they handled it. Was this even a normal feeling? Turns out it was. And each instructor, without fail, said I needed to step back.

That was the last thing I wanted. I wanted to push forward! I wanted to accomplish things! I wanted to impress all those people who were waiting on me to do something spectacular! I watched so many good opportunities slide past. I felt like I was missing out and left behind.

But the advice didn’t change—take a step back. Reconnect with what I love. Why did I love those early stories I wrote? Why did I love writing? What would keep me going when it wasn’t fun or easy anymore?

So reluctantly, I cleared all the big writing projects I’d hoped to complete this summer. I decided to use these months to write whatever interested me at the time.

I can’t speak to the long term effects of this approach. But I can say that I have had a lot more fun with my writing sessions, the way I used to.

But I want to focus on something else for a moment.

When I was most discouraged, I thought I would never complete another story I loved ever again. (My brain is quite the drama queen.) My brain confused the fact that I couldn’t write right now with the idea that I never would again.

But like I said, I’d always been able to write. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do it yet. I already had. So didn’t I need to just push through and do it? To quit being lazy?

Enter Pilates.

Since I’ve had more time during the summer, I’ve been working out more. And nowhere was this “not yet” concept illustrated more clearly than during Pilates.

Of course I had a rough first couple days. But I slowly built more muscle and stamina, until I could hold the stretches as long as the instructor.

Which made me even more frustrated when I couldn’t. I mean, this was ridiculous! I could hold a perfect bridge yesterday. Why not today?

There were lots of reasons why. Maybe I hadn’t slept well. Maybe I’d been more active than usual the day before. Maybe I was sick. Maybe there was no reason! (That was the one that infuriated me the most.)

Pilates stresses listening to your body. Not in a creepy “I can heal myself with my mind” way—paying attention to which muscles hurt, which areas feel good, where I’m struggling, where I’m getting stronger. I’ve learned to notice where I can challenge myself and where I need rest so I don’t hurt myself. Crazy thing—God designed our bodies like that.

When I write, I can listen to my brain and to my heart. What can I do today? Where can I stretch? Where do I need rest?

So I did what I could do that day. And sometimes the next day I still struggled. But sometimes the next day I could do it again.

And during a Pilates class, I finally realized. Writing might be hard now. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t write at all. I could do what I was able to right then.

And just because it’s hard right now doesn’t mean that I’ll never create a story again. It means I can’t right now, and I need to rest and slowly build those muscles again.

I wasn’t a Pilates failure because I couldn’t hold one particular stretch. I could do an easier stretch instead. I could take a break. It didn’t matter. I was working out, I was getting stronger, and I was having fun.

So I couldn’t draft a full length novel right now. But I could write a short story. I could play around with new ideas. I could revisit old characters. It didn’t matter. I was writing, I was being creative, and I was having fun.

Just because I can’t do it today doesn’t mean I never will. Just because I could do it yesterday doesn’t mean I have to do it today.

I don’t know what your thing is—whether art or exercise or work or something completely different. But what has been true for me these past months is true for you, too. Just because you can’t do it today doesn’t mean you never will. Rest if you need rest, and reconnect with why you love whatever it is.

It will come back when you’re ready. Challenge yourself a little bit at a time. You’ll get there soon enough. 

Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult/new adult fantasy novels that walk the line between the darker elements of fantasy and the weirder elements of cartoons. But more importantly, I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want, plus maybe a metaphor about grief? Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates about what I’m reading, watching, and writing. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! ​

I was twenty-three before I watched my favorite kids’ cartoons.
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To be fair, I got a late start. Due to life circumstances that were out of my control, I was a heavily sheltered kid (which my heavily sheltered friends will know comes with unique pros and cons).

But then I got older, and those circumstances changed, and I made my own decisions about my media and entertainment. And along the way, I stumbled across some cartoons that became a comfort.

It was easy. I didn’t have to invest too much time, just twenty minutes here or there. No matter what happened, I knew it would work out (mostly) by the end. It was safe. It was familiar. It was comforting.

But it also brought shame with it. After all, I was twenty-three. A grown person. Other people my age watched mature dramas, and I curled up in the corner with Disney Channel reruns.

I figured it was just because I had a late start. I was living the glory days I didn’t have, and sooner or later I’d find those more mature stories.

And don’t get me wrong, I love mature stories, too. (Six of Crows and Arcane, anyone?)

But the opposite happened. I traveled even further down the cartoon wormhole and found even more shows that I love and will pop on after a long day at work.

More than that, I found other adults who feel the same. I can talk about my favorite cartoons around them and not feel silly or childish.

Cartoons aren’t just for kids anymore, and maybe they never were. More and more, shows intended for kids attract older teens and adults with them. (Consider Gravity Falls—while the show is aimed at kids and aired on Disney, the creator recently released a spin-off book exclusively for older teens and adults.)

So, as I put on my favorite cartoons and wind down, I can’t help but wonder why cartoons—and other kids’ media—captivate adults so much.

Does it say something about how we view adulthood?

THE NOSTALGIA FACTOR

The world kinda lacks nostalgia. 

 We get up early, we go to work to make money, but we can’t even spend that money on fun stuff, no, we pay bills and repair our car and get gas. (Don’t get me started on insurance calls.) We come back home exhausted after a full work day, catch up on a few chores around the house, and by then it’s time to fall into bed and scroll news videos that make us feel horrible, but we somehow feel worse if we scroll past.

Kids’ media brings back those simpler times. Sometimes it’s because we grew up with a show and it takes it back. Sometimes (like in my case) we may have never grown up with the show ourselves, but the vibe brings back our childhood anyway.

Not to use a Gravity Falls example again (but I absolutely will), I was about twelve or thirteen when the first season aired. I never watched the show then, but when I did watch it about ten years later, it transported me back to the twelve-year-old me who could wander the woods for hours in my own make-believe world searching for conspiracies.

(In hindsight, it’s good younger me didn’t watch Gravity Falls. Or Phineas and Ferb. She would have been insufferable.)

I wonder if that’s why we come back to the colorful screens of kids’ cartoons and media. Being grown up isn’t all we hoped and dreamed and imagined, and all we want now is to go back to that simpler time. It’s not that we didn’t have problems then—we did, sometimes really big ones. I can’t quite put it in words, but everything felt smaller and bigger all at the same time.

The nostalgia factor can go beyond screens. Like I mentioned, I felt embarrassed for being an adult and loving kids’ media and cartoons. We all think we know what adulthood should look like, and we all study the other adults around us and think they’re absolutely killing it out there.

But deep down inside, even on our best days, we all feel like three kids stacked in a trench coat.

It seems silly to say it all changed with a meme, but it did. I don’t have the screenshot anymore, but it said something like, “your twenties are for enjoying all the same things you loved as a kid, except you’re not embarrassed about it anymore.”

Once I adopted that mindset, nostalgia and wonder didn’t stay in my screen, they colored my life, too. It was okay to do things just because I enjoyed them, even if those things seemed a little silly. It was okay to read a cheesy book because it sounded fun, or to take a walk even if no one else came along. I’m not perfect at it by any stretch, but I’m learning to be myself and to enjoy things—embarrassment free.

This is why I find kids’ media so powerful. It reintroduces wonder and nostalgia into our everyday life.

SIMPLE STORIES, DEEP TRUTH

Remember how I said our childhoods weren’t without their problems? Well, cartoons aren’t either.

Not all those problems were as big a deal as we thought, now that we look back. A squabble with a sibling, or a lost possession, or a silly fear that wouldn’t quite leave us alone.

But we underestimate how big the problems are that kids sometimes deal with. Kid me dealt with big things, even if I didn’t have words for them at the time. And sometimes those hurts, big and small, follow us into adulthood.

Kids’ cartoons and media have a unique stage that allows them to tackle these problems. The stories themselves are simpler—a bad guy must be vanquished or an adventure must be had, and by golly, these colorful two-dimensional characters will find it!

As stunning as complex themes and questions can be, sometimes we need a simple story.

I’ve used Gravity Falls examples so far, so why stop now? One episode in particular struck me, where the monster of the week waited until the main character was tired and frustrated and hurt by a sibling before he attempts a deal.

I could think of so many times and spaces where I felt tired and frustrated and hurt. And it made me consider what “monsters” might poke at those spaces and attempt a deal.

A simple point. Basic, some might even say. But still powerful.

On the other end of the spectrum, another cartoon I enjoyed, The Owl House, dealt with topics like abuse and manipulation—heavy topics, and topics very close to home for me. But within the borders of this fantastical story, they didn’t feel quite so big, and I could approach them more clearly.

Kids’ cartoons and media create a safe space. They can tackle deep topics so well because they’re simple.

We seek out cartoons to relax, to unwind. Through their structure and predictability, their color and humor, they build a safe space each morning or evening or whenever we press play. They give us a safe space to talk about the things that bother us, maybe things that have bothered us for a long time. Sometimes they put plain words to thoughts that swirl around our heads.

So yeah, I still watch cartoons, even though I’m a grown-up. But now I’m not quite so embarrassed about it. Because at day’s end, there’s something special about seeking out nostalgia and wonder—the wonderful things that God placed here for us to find. I’m pretty sure He didn’t mean for us to drudge through our lives. Life can be hard but there’s still things to enjoy.

And at day’s end, there’s something special about saying deep things in a simple way. We all need those spaces. We all need that wonder.

Maybe, we all need cartoons.

What are your favorite cartoons? Drop them in the comments below—I’m always looking for recs. While I’m at it, I’ll share my faves, too.


Hi, I’m Rachel! I write young adult/new adult fantasy novels that walk the line between the darker elements of fantasy and the weirder elements of cartoons. But more importantly, I write the novels I needed growing up—the novels I still need. Novels for the weird little girls and the women they’re becoming.

Maybe you need those stories, too? You can get one for free by signing up for my email newsletter via the “HOME” page of my website. It might involve a girl and the magical violin she didn’t want, plus maybe a metaphor about grief? Plus, you’ll also get email-exclusive updates about what I’m reading, watching, and writing. Sound good? I hope I’ll see you there! 

​I always said I wouldn’t write a fantasy novel.

I didn’t have the head for it, or so I thought. I couldn’t develop a whole new world and all the rules and laws that came with that—my imagination didn’t stretch that far.

I never got into the medieval scene, and that meant I didn’t read much fantasy either. But you know what I did read? Historical fiction.

So I wrote historical fiction. It still let me escape into another time, another world. I thought that settled it.

Until I read fantasy.

I’ve experienced a “reading awakening” over the past few years. And somewhere—not sure when or how—I caught myself reading more fantasy than historical fiction.

Turns out it wasn’t that I didn’t like fantasy. I just didn’t like 2000s-era Christian allegorical fantasy. Not that there’s anything wrong with them—I look at some series in that subgenre and wish I could have gotten into them. But I could only take so many medieval Narnia rip-offs.

As I got older, not only could I choose what I read, but the fantasy market widened, like, a lot. Christian and general markets both made room for more subgenres, not to mention they had more books to choose from in the first place.

Goodbye, medieval Narnia rip-offs!

So I read fantasy and wrote historical fiction. Because I still didn’t believe I had the head for it.

Two things happened that slowly changed my mind. Well, really three. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

First, the more time I spent in historical fiction circles, the more I realized how much they really truly loved research. Which blew my mind a little. I thought research was the monster we all pretended to put up with until we found those couple things that made your brain light up.

That’s how I did it. Get the couple shiny ideas I wanted, research like a mad person for a day or two, and write a book. But when it came to the nitty-gritty of historical accuracy (what were they wearing then? What were they eating? What did houses look like?), I didn’t care nearly as much. Other than the few elements that interested me, it was hard to drag myself to research.

More or less, I used my historical setting like one would use a fantasy world.

Not a great system. Would not recommend. It only dragged me down when all those nitty-gritty things I skipped came back to haunt me during editing.

Second, I came across two stories that redefined how I wanted to write.

But I should go back a bit, let’s say 2019-2021, when I read the books Fawkes by Nadine Brandes and Shadow by Kara Swanson. Both made me turn the final page and say, “I want to write like that.” Both ironically were fantasy novels, despite my historical era, so I really should have seen this development coming.

Well, last year, it happened again, for the first time in a long while.

First, I came across the TV series Arcane: League of Legends. I promise I’ll spare you the PowerPoint presentation. (Besides, I already wrote a blog post about how much I love it, so if you want to know, you can check it out HERE.)

Then I took everyone’s recommendations at long last and read the Six of Crows duology by Leigh Bardugo (which will get its own blog post soon).

I could say so much about these two stories, but suffice to say, they both had such unique fantasy worlds, unlike anything else I had ever seen. They dealt with deep questions and themes, came with relatable characters, and told a beautiful, albeit dark at times, story.

I often get a “hangover” after consuming good media where my own fear bombards me that I’ll never be able to write something like that. But these two projects didn’t make me feel that way. I finished them, and I knew somewhere deep inside myself that I wanted to write stories like this. I knew I was meant to write these stories right now.

And third, around that time, I joined a writing group. That’s right, a real, in-person writing group. And everyone in that group wrote fantasy or speculative fiction of some flavor. I think that was my first acknowledgement of this new thing, the first time I decided that I wanted to try it, even if I didn’t quite realize it yet. I entered fantasy writing contests and registered to attend a fantasy writers conference/fan convention this summer.

And then I did it. I needed a new novel to pitch. So I sat down with a historical concept, that no matter how much I loved it, wouldn’t quite click.

Turns out it made the perfect plot for my fantasy world.

I planned to try a few chapters, see how I felt about it. I expected that it would be too hard and I’d scuttle back to historical fiction and pretend this never happened.

That concept unlocked something. I wrote the first quarter of the novel in sixteen days—the fastest I’ve written anything since I don’t know when. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a mess, but I can look underneath it and see a solid story, not all the work needed to make it somewhat presentable.

And most importantly, I had fun with it again. I recovered the ability to play around with my first drafts, to write things just because it sounded fun, to try wild outlandish things that sometimes work.

It scares me. After all, I did all this work as a historical author. What would it mean to switch genres now? But I think I’ve weathered it like so many other things in my writing life. I went with the flow and saw where it went.

So what now? Am I done with historical fiction forever? I doubt it. I’ll always leave that door open. There’s too many fascinating things in history for me to ignore. Maybe this phase is what I need right now, maybe I don’t have the mental bandwidth for research and such right now.

But I can’t ignore this door before me either. I wonder if everything’s led to this after all. Historical made a great lower-stakes genre to improve my craft before having to balance worldbuilding with telling a good story. Maybe that’s why I didn’t get a novel deal before now. I just don’t know. So I’ll keep telling the stories that I have right now.

I mean, really, can we do much else?

I don’t really know why I wrote this blog post. It seems a little presumptuous to assume you all want to read this story about what happens in my head.

I guess I hope it reaches someone else who’s thinking of doing something very different, whether switching the genre they write or maybe some other life direction. I hope maybe my experience might help you see where God uses your own life and leads you in this new direction, like maybe you were supposed to be here all along.

It’s scary, but it can be a lovely place to rediscover yourself and your own creativity and what you can do. Don’t panic. Give it a try, go with the flow, and see what comes. 

Got anything new you're trying lately? Let me know how your writing, reading, or whatever has been going in the comments below!

Dear Christian Fiction:

I think you must believe I’m disappointed in you.

You’ve watched me add general market books to my shelf. And you read that open letter I wrote about general fiction last month.

Since I grew up with Christian media only, you must worry that I’ve gone off the deep end and walked away from Christian media completely. So I thought I’d explain myself.

My previous letter explained how I first read a general market novel. And not only did I engage with stories and topics I never thought I would, not only did I set my own boundaries about what I would read, but I recognized the benefits reading these stories could bring me. I lost my fear of general fiction.  

And yet, I never once considered leaving you behind. If anything, I returned more excited than before. What if I could find powerful stories, like these general novels I’d discovered, but with a Christian worldview? Where could I find them?

And then I realized that I hadn’t finished making peace with my reading habits. I just never expected you would pose a fight.

I’ll put this as nicely as possible—you skate by on many counts simply because you're Christian. Christian readers are so desperate for something comforting or truth-filled or even just something clean that we’ll overlook certain quality issues.

That doesn’t fly anymore. More and more, bookstores shelve Christian market books beside general market books and expect them to keep up.

This encourages me—it proves people take you seriously. But it also means that we need to up our game. Especially in two specific areas.

One: Diverse representations (including hard/sensitive topics).

It seems a bit counter-intuitive that if someone wants a character with their same struggles or physical characteristics, their only choice is a general market novel. Christian books largely don’t address these topics.

Or, if and when you do, you either resort to hurtful stereotypes and trite clichés, or you don’t know how to spread the word (i.e., a story with a plus-size lead with a skinny lead model on the cover). If we believe the truth, if we believe the Gospel, then why on earth don’t we write that truth for all people? Why don’t we show all people that they are loved and valued?

Two: Messages vs. telling a good story.

General market books tend to weave their messages into the story—because if they get too preachy, they will likely be held to a harsher standard.

Christian market books, on the other hand, sometimes smack me with a two-by-four in the form of a lengthy Scripture passage, prayer, or sermon that completely halts the plot. When you do that, I feel cheated. Instead of taking me on this incredible journey, making me think, and letting me feel rewarded when I interpret it for myself, I get left with a few blocky pages of text telling me what I should think.

I also think the clean fiction movement contributes to this. In scrubbing our books of all objectionable content, we’ve scrubbed it of authenticity. (I wrote a whole blog post on that, so I won’t get into it all now. You can read that post HERE.)

Three: Knowing and serving your audience. 

Christian books are largely going to Christian readers. So truthfully, when I do get a preachy monologue in a Christian story, I have to wonder who they're trying to benefit. If you're trying to benefit the Christian readers, aren't you preaching to the choir a little bit? 

Does that mean there isn't a place for Gospel presentations and come-to-Jesus moments in Christian fiction? Absolutely not. (If they're executed well, that is.) Every Christian needs reminded of the Gospel sometimes! 

But I do think we need to keep our audience in mind. Is this a book an unbelieving reader is likely to pick up? Maybe it's a good candidate for a come-to-Jesus subplot. However, if it's a book that is more likely to appeal to the already-saved, by all means, include the Gospel--but maybe focus more on its impact in a believer's life.

There are so many different ways to depict the Christian life. I wish I could find more stories that spoke to what that Christian life looks like. 

Am I saying the general market never publishes its less-than-stellar novels? Of course not.

So why do I pick on Christian fiction specifically? Because we should know better. Like I said, we believe the truth. We believe the Gospel. So why on earth don’t we bring it to everyone? And what better way to bring it to everyone than to tell a genuinely good story? 

And am I saying that every Christian novel needs all the gritty and edgy? No. There is a place for fluffier or cleaner novels.

The problem is when that’s all we offer. The problem is when authors with diverse backgrounds struggle to find space in the Christian market. The problem is when we don’t write any books about the harder topics, or when we do, we resort to hurtful stereotypes.

I hated that some of the stories I grew up with weren’t as wonderful as I once thought. And I hated that some of my own stories might not be welcome in Christian fiction because of the topics I addressed.

I could leave it there and let myself get discouraged. Why not give up Christian fiction all together and read general fiction for good?

Because Christian fiction matters. My relationship with Jesus matters. The Gospel matters. And being able to see that in fiction matters. While I can see aspects of my faith even in general market novels, it’s still important to have stories that come from that place of truth and love. I need both general fiction and Christian fiction.

That’s why I hold you to such a high standard.

So what do I do with Christian fiction? I keep trying and I keep searching. I’ve found so many authors, both general and Christian, who love Jesus and write excellent stories. And I want to lift them up, to celebrate the excellent stories, to push for progress and authenticity.

And when I come across those Christian novels that skate by, I let them make me think about the change I want to see. I let their mistakes inspire me to keep writing my own stories. Because general or Christian, the world needs all our stories.

So no, I haven’t given you up. I don’t think I ever could. If anything, I can’t wait to see where we go from here.

What’s your favorite Christian book or author? Share it in the comments, and I’ll share some of my faves!