Who Do I Write For?

Every few months, there’s a discussion on the email list of Christian authors that I belong to that circles around what Christian fiction is, or should be. Inevitably, it seems to devolve into a conversation about cussing and graphic sex and gratuitous violence and whether any of those are okay and what each of those really is and why can’t there just be clear-cut guidelines that make it easy to identify the no-nos so that we can stop having this conversation.

But at the end of the day, as much as I’d like us to stop having the conversation, I think the critical problem isn’t one that’s going to be solved by having a naughty and nice list where we rank all of the words in the English language on some kind of acceptability scale or indicate what amount of physicality is okay before it becomes graphic and what the difference between gratuitous and necessary violence really is. I think the problem is more one of audience. And that to solve it, more Christian authors need to understand (and accept) that Christian fiction doesn’t have to be one-size-fits-all. Because Christians are not one-size-fits-all. Or even one-size-fits-most.

We all come from varied backgrounds. And we’ve all had different experiences in the church. For some people, reading about problems that are miraculously solved after a quick prayer makes them happy. It gives them hope. It encourages and strengthens their faith. For others, it does the exact opposite. It leaves them wondering what’s wrong with them that their Christian walk has been so fraught with pitfalls and helplessness and isolation and feelings of abandonment and wondering if God is actually listening when they pray because the Christian walk as portrayed in the books they read has no relation to their life whatsoever.

Which is why I believe there’s room in the shadow of the cross for fiction of all types. For me, as a reader, I want to see characters who struggle with their faith in real, heartbreaking ways. Because those are the struggles I’ve had myself. I don’t want to see the shiny-happy-world where everyone at church is nice and every problem gets solved with no mess and everyone makes their way down the aisle by the end of the last chapter. And so that’s why I write what I do. I want people to walk away from my books and say, “You know what, the Christian life can be hard. It’s messy and I’m going to fail and have to stand up again and seek forgiveness. But that’s okay, because in the end, God still loves me and there’s still hope.” I want them to look at the journeys my characters go on and see similarities in their own lives – including the struggles and, yes, even the problems that don’t get solved and the prayers that don’t seem to be answered.

It’s less about what constitutes a swear word and more about who we’re trying to reach. If you’re trying to reach the unsaved, then you’re going to need that clear gospel presentation in your story. If you’re trying to provide a light escape that’s clean and inspirational, then do that. But if you’re me, you’re writing to Christians who are hurting. The ones who have been kicked around but are still clinging to their faith. The people who are trying to reconcile living fully in the world without becoming of it. The folks who are happy in the city, or the suburbs, and aren’t dreaming of cozy small towns where everyone knows everyone else. And if someone accidentally lets a word slip out that maybe they shouldn’t have, well, they get it, cause they’ve stubbed their toe in the middle of the night, too.

It’s not for everyone. I get that. But there are people out there who have sworn off Christian fiction previously who have reached out to me and said, “You know what? These are the kinds of books I’ve always wished for. Thanks.” And that makes it all worthwhile.