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! 

Hi, everyone! I'm so excited to be participating in the Novelists in Novembers anthology blog tour with Wild Blue Wonder Press! You might remember that I participated in one of their anthologies last year, and I was so excited to support this next round of authors. 

Today, I'm sharing a guest post from Kellyn Roth. I absolutely love reading Kellyn's thoughts, both on her newsletter and her Instagram, and I'm so excited to share her thoughts with you about anthologies and beauty in the differences. 

But first, very quickly, I wanted to share a few things with you about the anthology--namely, where you can purchase it. I got to be an advanced reader, and I noted they had even more diversity of stories in this anthology than the last. I definitely enjoyed the read and it's the perfect nostalgic fall read. So go ahead and click the button below to grab your copy, and then enjoy Kellyn's guest post!

​Also, this blog tour comes with a GIVEAWAY. Everyone who enters the blog tour for the release of Novelists in November will be entered to win a free paperback copy of the novel and a $25 Amazon gift card!

​Enter the giveaway using the button below. Entrants must be 18+ or have parental permission to enter. This giveaway is open to US and international winners. If you need to find any of the other blog tour stops, check out the graphic above or kellynrothauthor.com. 

Hey folks! I’m Kellyn Roth, and today I’m sharing a guest post on Rachel’s blog to celebrate the release of Novelists in November, the second anthology out with my indie publishing company, Wild Blue Wonder Press.

This is the second anthology I’ve published, but I’ve prepared three, planned dozens more, and participated in a few others over the years. An anthology is defined loosely as, “a collection of selected literary pieces.” When I first set out to publish anthologies with Wild Blue Wonder Press, I had a number of thoughts about how I’d do it, and at last I landed on what I really wanted to do:

I wanted to feature excellent Christian creators from differing backgrounds with different stories. I didn’t want to publish the same kind of stories over and over again, though I also wanted to appeal to the same core audience who had become accustomed to my historical family sagas and romances.

Basically, I wanted to be different but not too different.

The thing that is the same in my anthologies? They are all Christian fiction written by Christian writers, primarily for Christian readers, and they are all (just because I don’t have the knowledge and staff yet for speculative fiction) realistic fiction in some way—meaning they are contemporary or historical stories, not fantasy or sci fi.

Though I would consider myself a fairly conservative Christian who believes in all the typical things that would get one in trouble with the average person, I also believe that Christians have a major problem with judgmentalism about things that ultimately don’t matter. Not salvational issues—not even things that are condemned in the Bible—but the most niche little personal choice things that shouldn’t offend anyone.

But they do.

So when I am choosing stories to be featured, I’m trying not to choose ones that are all same. I am especially trying to choose authors who stand out to me as having something interesting and different to bring to an anthology and to the Christian fiction world that I can appreciate even if it’s not exactly what I bring.

I think we need people in the community who are far more conservative than me—but I also think we need people who have less “conservative” convictions in a world where “conservative” means picking fights with anyone who isn’t exactly like ourselves—even if the things they are interested in or talk about or care about are not in any way wrong, sinful, or so on. Some things I cannot endorse, of course. I want to run a press with a basics of ethics and morals, but … other things?

If you were waiting for Wild Blue Wonder Press to come out against celebrating Christmas and even things like moderate drinking or piercings, you’re in for a disappointment. I have convictions about, well, everything, but I have never felt that my convictions ought to be for everyone. And also, of course, my convictions are sometimes less conservative!

But I think there’s a beauty in that. We all come from different backgrounds and as such, what we are led to do and say is different. And I think rather than isolating ourselves and pretending our way is the only way, we should allow ourselves to embrace those slight differences when they are truly harmless and not prohibited by Scripture.

This is true of controversial things, yes, but it’s equally true of little insignificant but beautiful things. In both my collections, I’ve loved getting to feature a variety of different types of main characters and situations and even subgenres under the women’s fiction umbrella. Some of our stories have different tones, some feature more blatant Christian themes than others though all could be called Christian fiction, and some are more serious or more light-hearted.

I think there is value in things that are written for a specific person, but I do also enjoy putting together these anthologies that are so specific—I mean, Christian women’s fiction is already a pretty narrow genre!—but still have room to highlight people from different experiences.

What do you think about all this? Agree to disagree?

​Dear Heartless. Dear The Knife of Never Letting Go. Dear The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. Dear A Monster Calls. Dear Six of Crows.

I feel like I should explain why I treated you with such contempt.

I grew up with Christian media only. Christian music, Christian books, and heavily screened mainstream movies (mainly because there weren’t many Christian movies then).

On one hand, I’m glad. I’m glad those media choices helped reinforce the faith I chose. I’m glad those rules sheltered me from harsh content and from some conversations I wasn’t ready for. I’m sure you can understand that.

But those important conversations never happened. So I turned eighteen, and just like magic, I had streaming services, a Spotify account, and a public library card. I could watch what I wanted, listen to what I wanted, read what I wanted.

I felt like I had been thrown to the wolves. (No offense.)

It wasn’t you. Somewhere along the line, I adopted the idea that if it didn’t come with an explicit Christian label, it must be sinful. I blame my natural rule-following personality—not so much because I liked the rules and was such a good kid, but more selfishly, because getting in trouble terrified me.

I saw the PSA’s where a Christian kid saw one PG-13 movie and it haunted them for life. I heard the “everything you read stays with you forever” speech more times than I care to admit. Heck, the thought of even stumbling across a too-mature Christian book terrified me.

But there I stood in a sea of books and movies and music. For the first time, I had to decide what I would read and what I wouldn’t. No one would come along and choose for me.

But what if I made the wrong choice and read something that would ruin me?

Dramatic much? Sure. But it kept me up at night, okay?

So I ignored you for a good long while. I played it safe and stuck with the tried-and-true. Which worked out fine, for a little while. But a clash was inevitable.

Because I was also adulting. I experienced real life viewpoints and people very different from me. I understood things about myself and my life and my world that I’d never considered before.

And I wanted stories that talked about those things.

I found several crossover titles that did (novels that appeal to both the Christian and general markets). But Christian novels that did the same were few and far between. I scoured the market. Those conversations just didn’t happen.

So I took a deep breath. I scoured all the reviews that I could find, assured myself that this book couldn’t possibly send me to hell. I checked it out from my library—that way, if the hellfire scorched too close, I could send it back and pretend it never happened.

I read a general market book.

I don’t even remember which of you I chose. (I suspect Heartless.) But you startled me. You were just as clean, if not cleaner than my Christian books. Your characters didn’t engage in all the debauchery that I assumed they did, nor did they encourage me to do the same. If anything, they encouraged me to avoid their mistakes at all costs.

I finished the book and let it be. But slowly, ever so slowly, I dipped my toes back in. My friends also read general market fiction. So I bought the occasional general market novel they recommended at a used bookstore. I picked one out at the library every so often.

Within a year, I read The Knife of Never Letting Go, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, and A Monster Calls. All three blew me away. You talked about hard things like grief and religious abuse and toxic gender roles. You told creative, inventive tales unlike any stories I’d ever read before. You forced me to take a hard look at the parts of myself I didn’t want to consider.

You never mentioned God or Jesus. And perhaps your authors never intended to. And yet I couldn’t deny that these books deeply impacted me for good.

Those three books marked the turning point. I still read mostly crossover and Christian fiction. But I also still experiment with general fiction.

I defined what I will read and what I won’t, and I became okay with those definitions changing. I read about topics that I once feared. And sometimes, I stood my ground and kept it at a solid no.

I finally had those conversations with myself. I only wish I had them earlier.

Best of all, I found stories about those hard topics. I engaged with these big questions and conversations in a safe environment. I formed my own thoughts, considered viewpoints besides mine, and strengthened the choices I made.

I made my peace with the general market.

You can’t replace Christian worldview stories. And it requires caution and research to identify the titles that will benefit me. But I learned that sometimes a story can honor God whether or not it says His Name. Sometimes an author with no religious affiliation can write a story, and that story can glorify God when I read it and think about the ideas it presents.

I still prioritize Christian worldview stories. But the general market helped me see beyond my own world. And once I could see, I could view it through my Christian beliefs. I even found Christian authors who wrote stories for God--general market stories. Who knew they could co-exist?

I wish I could have helped my younger self reach out for those stories. While these stories came exactly when I needed them as an adult, I wish my younger self could have set out with more confidence and answer those questions instead of living in confusion for years. I wish I had the confidence to voice those questions and share them with other people.

I wish I hadn’t been scared of you for so long. But I’m not scared anymore.

I firmly believe that I need both general market and Christian fiction. This month, I discussed making my peace with the general market. Next month, I’ll discuss how I made my peace with Christian books.

Until then, what’s a general market book that surprised you? Share your adventures in the comments below! 

​After three weeks back at work, the nastiest head cold found me.

Ideally, I would take the time off and get better, but I don’t have the sick time, and I can’t afford it besides.

Ordinarily, I would power through. I didn’t deem sickness or fatigue all that valid, or at the very least, it shouldn’t shut me down. At my previous custodial job, I once worked with both influenza and strep throat. Not my finest moment.

But something changed this summer.

When summer started, I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it—whether reading a book, or writing, or whatever task needed done. And when I tried, I had to claw and fight for every step.

It’s unsettling. The ability to do something I’d been able to do forever . . . disappeared. And I couldn’t know when it would come back. If it would come back.  

I’d break out every so often. I’d complete all those little tasks. I’d read a couple books. And then I’d fall right back in the slump. It was bewildering—it wasn’t because I didn’t have time. I had plenty of time. I wanted to do all these things.

But watching a movie was always easier. Or scrolling my phone. Or staring off into space. Sometimes it felt like that was all I could do. My favorite things weren’t giving me joy. Or if they were, I wasn’t receiving it.

I would console myself with the idea that I was just stressed, and when X, Y, or Z would resolve themselves, then I’d get all my energy back. Once school let out, I’d have more time and less stress. But then X, Y, and Z resolved themselves and no magic motivation sparked.

So if it wasn’t outside circumstances, what was wrong with me? I got more and more scared that something was really, truly broken in me. I could do way more than this when I was thirteen, why couldn’t I handle everything now? (How convenient to forget that it stressed me out when I was younger, too.)

I was in full flaming burnout. Years of pushing through it and sucking it up caught me.

And then, right before work started again in August, some mental switch flipped. I noticed it in my reading first. I wanted to read everything I could get my hands on. I finished books that had been gathering dust on my shelf. I met my Goodreads challenge within the month. And I enjoyed it again.

How?

For the first time this year, I was forced to slow down.

I couldn’t do it all, no matter how hard I tried. I can’t keep up with everyone around me, and that’s okay.

So when I got that nasty cold, instead of reasoning it out—“I’m not that tired, others have it lots worse, there’s no reason I can’t do XYZ”—I just rested when I felt tired. One day, I went home after work and slept for almost fourteen hours. But I needed that rest, and it helped me beat my cold symptoms.

Because the biggest lesson burnout taught me, a lesson I couldn’t make out in the thick of it, is that it doesn’t have to make sense. If I try to make it all make sense, I’ll burn out over and over again.

I accepted that I was tired.

And even if it didn’t make “sense,” I gave myself what I needed. To get better from my cold, I rested when I felt tired. To recover from my reading slump, I chose books that interested me and ignored the ones I didn’t. I didn’t worry about what all I “should do” (alright, I did try, but it didn’t succeed this time).

Sometimes we Christians get so caught up in self-sacrifice and service that we forget that we can’t help others the way they need help, if we’re crashing ourselves. It’s a fine line. On one hand, we need to give ourselves what we need, things God has provided, things like rest and relationship and all the things that bring us joy. But on the other, we need to make sure we don’t ignore things God has given us to do.

I used to worry so much. What if I wasn’t following God’s will? What if I was sinning horribly and didn’t know? What if I was missing out on a once in a lifetime chance and had no clue? Burnout also taught me that God will show me what I need to do. I can’t ignore something if I’m not conscious of it. It’s not my job to make myself perfect, it’s God’s. And He can do that job perfectly—without burnout.

I wish I had it all figured out. I wish I could say I’ll never face burnout again. Unfortunately, I know burnout will come. It’s part of a broken world. But I hope that when it does come again, I’ll remember what I’ve learned. I hope I’ll give myself what I need and what God has given me to succeed. 

How's your September been? What do you do when you feel tired and burnt-out? Share your adventures in the comments below!

My job in elementary education means my summers are free. Sometimes too free. So this year, my friend suggested I volunteer as an usher at our local off-Broadway theater. I watched pets for income, but that didn’t get me out and about in the community, and I could easily hide away for my entire summer.
​
Alright, alright. But the bit that sealed the deal? The theater was performing Beauty and the Beast AND Murder on the Orient Express. So I had two shows I wanted and a paraprofessional’s income. But ushers could stay and watch the entire summer season free.

So I ushered. And I experienced my first summer season. And I learned a lot about theater. But the funny thing is, what I learned there works outside the theater, too.

One: Give it a try.

The theater offered five shows this year, and I only knew two. But far be it from me to turn down a free ticket.

Except I almost did. The afternoon I ushered The Wedding Singer, I’d been dogsitting for a week and had car trouble first thing that morning. I already felt “meh” about the show, and a long nap at home was all too enticing.

But the free ticket prevailed. If I disliked the show that much, I reasoned, I could sneak out at intermission.
I didn’t sneak out at intermission. The Wedding Singer made me smile more than any other show. I laughed so hard I forgot all about the car trouble and my nap.

And I’d almost missed it. I’d almost stuck with what I knew.

Trying new things is easy when it’s free and you can sneak out at intermission. Rarely does life outside the theater work that way. But God will send opportunities our way. They might be fun things, like Wedding Singer tickets. They might be not so fun things, like car trouble along the way. Sometimes it risks embarrassment or disappointment.

But sometimes it comes with laughter. Sometimes it comes with joy. But first, I have to give it a try.

Two: Audience matters.

My first show, I smiled at the dressed-up girls at Beauty and the Beast. Then two weeks later, I was the only young person at Kiss Me Kate. Then a month later I clapped along with the dancing audience at Beautiful.

And I sat behind the theater’s high school conservatory group at The Wedding Singer.

And man, that conservatory group was the best audience.

They cheered loud and hard for the orchestra when most people just politely clapped. They laughed the hardest at the jokes. They gasped whenever a character gave a particularly good roast.

And that reaction is infectious. It was uncanny how one person would clap or dance or cheer, and soon it would ripple across the entire audience.

Who is in my real-life audience with me?

Someone who will cheer the overlooked or someone who’s content to politely clap?

Someone who will discuss the show with me afterward or someone who will scroll their phone at intermission?

Someone who will gasp and cry with the more dramatic bits or someone who you can never quite read whether they’re even enjoying it?

Someone who will laugh and find the joy, or someone who will complain about the seats and the people around them?

And what audience am I for those around me?

Three: It’s okay to watch the show alone.

The very first show I ushered was Beauty and the Beast. I sat with the usher who trained me for the first half, but at intermission, she announced that she had an appointment.

That left me alone in an empty row.

I’d attended this theater several times before, but a friend or family member always came with me.

Being alone was strangely refreshing.

Don’t get me wrong—there’s something beautiful and unifying at sharing a glance or laughing at the same jokes or reacting to a climatic moment together. I definitely wouldn’t want to attend every show alone.

But this time, I laughed at the parts I found funny without wondering if anyone else caught the humor. Nothing and no one else tugged at my attention. I immersed myself in the lights and the spectacles and the characters.

Sure, you need a good audience. But I also don’t have to be afraid to watch the show alone sometimes. Alone doesn’t mean lonely. Sometimes God gives us that space so we can learn things about ourselves and immerse ourselves in what God has done and what He’s doing. And then we can take the next show, the next thing, and share it with our audience.  

Four: Love what you love.

Beauty and the Beast was the only show I attended alone. But I made up my mind. No matter who I sat with, I would enjoy the show my way. I’d laugh at the jokes I found funny. I’d cheer for the characters I loved. I’d clap along with the songs if I felt so inclined. I wouldn’t get embarrassed if I cried. And I’d stand at the end even if no one else did.

I got to just be myself in a crowd of people who also got to just be themselves. And we lost ourselves in a story for three hours.

And something about being ourselves also unified us.

God created me uniquely and specifically. He created every other person in that audience uniquely and specifically. And far beyond a show, I have a unique perspective on the world outside the theater.

I studied Ecclesiastes over the summer, and sometimes that book is a downer. But scattered throughout it are these passages that remind me that God gives all the good things we experience, and that enjoying those good gifts is a beautiful thing.

I can try new things. I can surround myself with a good audience. I can even enjoy time alone. But a show only has as much value as you give it. Life only has as much value as I put into it. Let yourself experience the show your way, the way only you can, the way He designed you.  

Do you have a favorite play or musical? Have you seen any of the ones I mentioned? Share your adventures in the comments below!

I switched off the TV and just sat there in the quiet, absolutely stunned. 

Has a story ever done that to you? 

Maybe there was a twist that you never saw coming. Maybe the ending didn’t turn out the way you would have ever expected. I’ve certainly had my share of those. 

But even though this show had them both in spades, that wasn’t what had me thinking about it fifteen minutes later, days later, heck, even months later. 

And I realized that I thought of fewer Christian stories that had the same effect. 

Christian stories tend to go in with a message, answer, or truth they wish to communicate. We call it all sorts of good things, like being a light, or sharing the truth, or inspiring. The good characters naturally believe whatever message is in question. The bad characters don’t. 

Interestingly enough, secular books do this too. And when they do it, we complain that they had an agenda. But when a Christian book does it, it’s somehow uplifting and inspiring. 

In a way, it makes sense. As Christ-followers, we do know and are learning to understand truth, absolute truth. That may not be a popular idea, but it's just the way it is. 

But what this show did, and what the best Christian books have done in my life, is present a question rather than an answer. It looked at the real-world issues we deal with today and created authentic characters that fell everywhere on the spectrum. The “good” characters sometimes did horrible things. The “bad” characters sometimes did wonderful things. 

And it never quite picked a “correct” answer. 

And I was still thinking about it. 

And I realized maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want a story that told me the “correct” answer after all. 

There were lots of reasons this could be. I’d grown up with some morality tales of questionable quality that pushed me towards one specific answer. Maybe now that I was grown, I just wanted to push the limits that I never could before. Was I just trying to be difficult? 

Or maybe I just liked things that I could think about for hours and always have more to explore. Maybe I just liked thinking and imagining, and stories without answers lent themselves to that nicely. 

Or maybe I was just stubborn. After all, why should I trust your interpretation and your answers? What if I can do a better job on my own? 

Truth be told, it’s a little bit of all of that. But I think my reasons go deeper. And maybe they touch on some important ideas, some ideas that whether or not we all agree on, we can all agree we should think about. 

Not everything in life is black and white. 

That’s what I thought as a kid. I thought everything could be sorted neatly into two boxes, good and bad. If a book had more things in the “bad” box than “good,” it was evil and would surely send me straight to hell. But if it had more in the “good” box than the “bad,” it was therefore good. 

And here's the place for my little disclaimer: some things are black and white. 

But as I got older and experienced more in life, I realized life isn’t at all that way. There are dozens of contributing factors that lead people to draw the conclusions they do–culture, upbringing, religion, experiences. In fact, the older I get and the more I learn and experience, the less I’m actually finding that is black and white.  

Stories that exist simply to share an answer and leave don’t work because they don’t take the gray into account. Characters and choices are simply good or simply bad. And if they’re bad, they’re really bad. And if they’re good, they’re really good. 

But sometimes we humans do bad things for good reasons. And sometimes we do good things for bad reasons. Does that make us right? Does that make us wrong? Sometimes it just can’t be sorted into boxes. And those are the kinds of stories and choices that make us think. 

No one has all the answers. 

Something has always irked me about stories that set out to deliver a message or a truth. By doing so, no matter how well-meaning I am, it suggests that I myself hold the “truth.” And I don’t know, that always seemed a little arrogant to me. That, or it lent itself to imposter syndrome, because how dare I act like I have all the answers. 

In some cases, as Christians, we do have the truth. Some things are simply true. I know God is real. I know Jesus rose again to restore us. 

Here’s the thing, I don’t struggle so much to know what the truth is. I struggle to know what it looks like to live that out. Is this thing I want to do the right thing to do? That’s where it gets gray. 

No one has all the answers. We’re all just learning together. When we write stories that ask questions and explore every answer equally, we get to explore together. We get to learn from each other. 

A gift I don’t have to pay for doesn’t mean much. 

It calls to mind that story about David, where he was asking God to stop a plague and needed a place to make the sacrifice. The man who owned the area David wanted to use offered to give it to him for free. But David refused, essentially saying that a gift he got for free isn’t a gift at all. 

In the same way, an answer that’s handed to me, an answer that I don’t have to fight for, isn’t an answer that will stay with me. It isn’t an answer that’s going to impact me. 

Because I didn’t have to work for it. I’m just riding someone else’s coattails, hoping they know what they’re talking about. I haven’t done my research, I haven’t made it my own. 

When a story presents a question and an array of answers, with each answer having its good or bad, I have to do the hard work of deciding what I think. And that brings me to my final and most important point. 

Questions bring me closer to God than answers. 

While I love to think and explore, there’s another side of me, and that side loves black and white. All the time, I wish that God would just tell me what I should do in any given situation, wish there were some sure-fire way to just know. 

And that used to worry me. Because if I still had all these questions, wasn’t that bad? I wasn’t supposed to doubt, was I? 

But there’s something my momma told me that has stuck with me since I was about thirteen years old. “God isn’t afraid of your questions.” 

Of all the times I’ve heard teachings about Thomas (more famously known as doubting Thomas), only one has really stuck with me. The writer claimed that Thomas gets a bad rap. They pointed out that Jesus never scolded Thomas for having doubts and questions. He simply gave him the tools he needed to believe. And He stayed with him through all of it. 

That’s why I love stories that raise questions. This is why I love seeing Christian stories that raise questions. Because those questions create a space for me to come closer to God. 

Answers haven’t done that. Just getting the answers I want makes me feel like I know it all, like maybe I know better. 

But it’s questions that force me to admit that I just don’t know, I just don’t understand, and maybe I never will. 

It's questions that sometimes do the best job of showing​ me the answer. 

I’m still always searching for stories that will make me sit stunned after I turn the last page. But more than that, I’m still searching for stories that will ask the hard questions, present all the answers, and create a space for me to fight it out with God by my side. 

​And here we are, at part two. Last month, I dove into my thought on art, calling, and loving God. Now I’m here to think about loving people through messy fiction. Both these posts were inspired by my post back in April about my problem with the clean fiction movement, where I wrote about how I don’t feel the clean fiction movement loves readers well.

So what is “messy” fiction able to do that clean fiction can’t? And how does that all come down to loving people well, and ultimately loving God well?

*in Imagine Dragons voice* First things first--

Why is it important to love people?

I mean, God said so, so it’s kind of important.

But beyond that, it always amazes me how many people—whether they are Christian or not—have been hurt by a church or by other Christians. Some of that is always going to come with being human.

But when Jesus gave those two commands—love God and love people—He put them on par with each other. I talked about in my last post how loving God, especially in something as creative and artistic as writing, can be hard to wrap our heads around. It’s just one of those concepts that’s out there and sometimes doesn’t quite feel tangible.

Loving people on the other hand feels like the practical side of the concept. And in a way, it is. Loving people is how we love God. And loving God is how we love people. We can’t have one completely without the other one. We might be super kind to others, but if you’re not loving God, it will always be missing something. On the other hand, you might be super close to God, but if you’re not loving people, something will always be holding you back. They’re not exclusive concepts. You have to have them both. And people tend to get hurt when you have one but not the other.

So how can a messy story do that? How does a messy story show love for someone else? How do I decide if something is helping me love others well?

For me, a story that loves someone well is a story that makes a reader feel seen or included. It’s a story where even if I don’t have shared experience with the character, it helps me understand others in my life a little bit better.

It’s a story that represents everyone and tackles the messy topics. It’s writers who are willing to be a little bit uncomfortable with the topics they broach and the words they put to paper. They’re stories that make sure everyone has the chance to see themselves in a Christian story, no matter their background.

But these stories don’t shy away from telling the truth. Providing entertainment without anything deeper would be a disservice to the reader. And avoiding hard truths is allowing them to walk into danger unarmed. It’s a writer that pulls truth from God alone, not their own opinions or stereotypes.

On the other hand, it doesn’t beat the readers over the head with whatever the author decided is truth. It communicates its truth in thoughtful ways, allowing the reader to draw their own conclusions. In the best cases, it allows the reader to take their own paths of thoughts with God.

They’re stories that shake the comfortable. Within Christian fiction, it’s going to be the authors that challenge stereotypes and make readers think. Within general fiction, it’s going to be the authors that unapologetically include God, even if their approach is more subtle and nuanced.

These stories go where their readers go. They stay there with them. Maybe they point out a thing or two along the path. And they wait even while the reader struggles, no matter how long that may be.

These are the stories that have had an impact on my life. These are the stories that are still impacting me to this day. And these are the stories I want to write. 

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. 

Last month, I wrote about how I chose to allow myself to have fun. And it really has changed how I’m viewing life and writing. But at I’ve been thinking through those ideas, I came to another question: why do we so often assume fun things can’t be authentic or important?
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As a teen, I knew I wanted to write, but I wasn’t yet sure what that would look like. At the same time, I also had very strict boundaries on what I was allowed to read or watch, so I grew up with a lot of Christian films of *ahem* varying quality. There’s just not a lot of range in Christian films, you know? You can either choose “based on a true story” or “fictional person receives a fictional miracle.”

That’s what I had, so that’s what I watched. I’d finish a movie and go to write . . . and I just couldn’t summon the words. I mean, that girl in the movie literally had her arm bit off by a shark. And I’m just writing my Anastasia-inspired heist story.

I loved that Anastasia-inspired heist story. And I’ve loved what I’ve written afterwards. I find so much joy in those stories. But I wasn’t seeing many stories like that.

So I worried my stories might not be important. Maybe they were a waste of time. Maybe someone else’s story deserved it more. Maybe my story was just too fun.

And maybe, if my stories were too fun, I couldn’t glorify God with them.

The thing about a lot of those Christian films I kept comparing myself to? Some of them weren’t authentic.  (Please note that there were some notable exceptions to that rule.) As I became an adult, I was able to broaden my horizons and experiment with films and stories. I discovered what I really, truly liked. And I discovered what an authentic story truly looks like. (For the record, I did find quite a few authentic stories in Christian fiction.)

And they were fun.

How could that be?

First off, don’t get me wrong. There is absolutely a time to be serious. A girl getting her arm bitten off by a shark isn’t fun, nor is it funny, and it shouldn’t be treated as such. I’ve written before about how I want to tackle some really serious topics like mental health and trauma.

But I found fun stories that still dealt with those serious, important things. For instance, you’re likely aware that I’m a huge Disney fun. Even as an adult, I still love rewatching my faves. They’re fun animated movies, how important could they be? And yet, some of them still have incredibly deep, authentic things to say. (I could give examples, but trust me, that would become a whole ‘nother blog post.)

And after I watched, say a Disney movie, I noticed I didn’t feel that overwhelming dread. I’ll likely never be a girl who lost her arm to a shark, and I’ll likely never tell that story. But something like a Rapunzel retelling that subtly deals with a topic like abuse? Well, that’s not too far out of my league.

The best part is, I can point to so many “fun” stories that had a deep impact on me. And if fun stories had an impact on me, then maybe my fun stories could have an impact on others. Maybe it was important enough after all.

I think we have the idea that if something is too fun, then it can’t be important. And some of the most important things in life aren’t fun. We have to get up and go to work whether we want to or not. There are appointments to attend and phone calls to make, and we’d like to put them off, but we can’t if we’re going to be a safe, healthy person.

But you know what, there’s so much serious stuff out there. If I can talk about the serious stuff and add a dash of fun at the same time, why wouldn’t I?

Because there is so much fun stuff out there, too. And you know who put it there? God did. God dabbles in both the fun and the serious. So a story of mine can never be too fun to be insignificant, to not glorify Him.

I’m always learning things about my writing, and lately I’ve realized that this is what I want my stories to be. I’m all about the authenticity. I’m all about talking about the hard stuff.

But I also want to tell a story that helps you escape for a while. I want to write a story that you can return to again and again for comfort. I want to give you a little fun.

Luckily, I can do both at the same time.

Is there something in your life that seems too insignificant, maybe too much fun? Sure, my examples were about writing, but it’s not just in writing. God is the Giver of all good gifts, so whatever your fun thing is, it’s not too small or unimportant for Him. 

I really learn a lot from housesitting, everybody.
​
Immediately after Christmas break, I picked up a dogsitting job that turned out to take three weeks due to a cancelled flight. My first five days there, I essentially got snowed in. And not the “snow day” kind where you run out to play with your family and friends. The bone-chilling cold and ice kind where you shelter inside with tea and a book.

All that to say, I was stuck inside for several days and unable to drive to go see my friends or family.

The week before the dogsitting job, I had gotten beta readers on my current project, and all of them, but especially my critique partner who knew my writing well, said that the characters didn’t quite click, that they weren’t up to par with characters I had written previously.

This was very helpful feedback because I’d been feeling it, too. These characters just weren’t alive to me. I wasn’t truly invested in what was going on with them, and as a result, I knew my readers wouldn’t be either. I watched and read all sorts of content on finding character voice, which helped, but didn’t quite do the trick. Because now their words sounded better, but they still weren’t quite alive, which is just unsettling.

But something happened in those days when I had to find fun by myself. I couldn’t rely on others to tell me what was fun or help me find it. I couldn’t let someone else make the suggestion and just go along with it.

So I read some books that I got for Christmas. I watched a Disney animated show without worrying if it was too silly. I gave myself the time and space to imagine and daydream. And as I did, I realized something else about my writing.

I was just taking it way too seriously.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s important to have goals. And it is important to take writing (or whatever job you have) seriously.

My problem was I was taking it too seriously. I was expecting other people to find the fun for me, or just rolling along with their definition of fun. I read other books that touched deep places, and I thought I had to be just like them if I was going to write something worth reading.

Especially with this project, since it’s a little different than what I typically write, I was so focused on what people’s expectations were and how I was going to fulfill them. Which was giving me a little bit of fun, but ultimately resulted in a story that felt inauthentic and characters that couldn’t click.

But as I thought back to earlier projects and how much I had fun working on them, I realized I was writing so much for imaginary other people and genre expectations that I thought were important, that I’d lost the sense of fun. This book didn’t seem like me, and I wasn’t having fun with it.

So I let loose a little bit. I read books and watched shows that filled my creative well without caring what other people would think of it. I re-read some of my older projects. And then when I sat down to write, if I wanted it to happen, it happened. Side character becomes a theater nerd? Done. Plot takes a turn towards the adventure-y side of things? Done. You decide to write the last scene first because this middle part isn’t working quite yet? Done.

And I started having fun.

Maybe you’ve been feeling really dry recently. And maybe that’s because you’re just taking things a little too seriously. Find a little fun for yourself this week. Read a book that you want to read, even if it seems silly. Choose a movie or show you want to watch. Do something you want to do. If you’re a writer, write something just for you.

And sometimes by letting up and having a little fun, you might find you’re able to take your work and fun more seriously after all.