Your Fiction Is Worthwhile, GospelWise Author
By Jeremy Bouma
Almost two decades ago I sat down to write a novel I had no business writing. Not a short story. Not even flash fiction. Just an idea, a blank page, and a question I couldn't shake: is this the kind of writing a Christian is supposed to do?
The November I Put On the Cape
Almost two decades ago, I jumped headlong into my first NaNoWriMo novel-writing challenge. Had never written a lick of fiction in my life. Not a short story, not even flash fiction. But I had this idea for a story that was loosely based on my own spiritual journey, wrestling with and wading through deep questions of faith, life, and everything in between.
So November 1, in I hopped into my writer's chair, donning my writer cape and mask — not really, but I like to think of us writers of all stripes as superheroes — and putting fingers to keyboard, staring down the dreaded Blank Page that Day 1.
Let's just say my first foray into fiction writing was…messy.
I eventually finished it after a painful year of rewriting, writing, and rewriting some more. I'd also caught the bug. The itch and impulse to keep writing stories.
The Question Wasn't Could. It Was Should.
But here's the thing: I didn't know if I should. Not could, mind you. Should.
You see, at the time I was a pastor and someone who had worked on some smaller nonfiction projects, leveraging a decade in ministry to write devotionals and other Christian living resources. Then when I stepped out of vocational ministry and went freelance, working as a contractor for large and midsize Christian publishers — writing and editing more devotionals, Bible studies, and resources, even a Bible translation — I'd thought that work was Important Writer™ work.
Field Note
Notice what the question actually was. Not am I good enough at this yet. Not will anyone read it. The question underneath was permission — whether stories counted as Kingdom work at all. That's a theological question wearing a craft question's clothes, and you can't outwrite it. You have to answer it.
What "Important Writer" Work Looked Like to Me
You know those kinds of writers, right? The Max Lucados and Lysa TerKeursts of the Christian world. The N.T. Wrights and Scot McKnights, even the Sarah Youngs and John Pipers. You know, the writers who shape lives and spark faith. That, to me — what they wrote and crafted — was the sort of worthwhile work of a Christian writer.
Except I still felt this pull toward fiction. A pull toward delighting and entertaining readers while offering them a dose of inspiration and insight into faith, connecting them to the heart of God and showcasing goodness and truth and beauty through story.
A pull toward delighting and entertaining readers while showcasing goodness and truth and beauty through story.
So, What Changed?
I kept going. I finished a second book to that first one. Then I branched out into religious conspiracy fiction, and on to apocalyptic science fiction, then small town short stories. I wrote, I published, and I repeated — convinced the Lord had drawn me into his special calling, as unlikely as it was. As storyteller.
The Benjamins and book sales didn't convince me. Ha!
It was the emails and reviews and messages from readers. Men and women who had read my stories and had a change of heart about their own spiritual direction. Or had understood an aspect of Christianity in a way they hadn't before.
Somehow my loaves and fishes resonated. So I kept baking and catching, doing my best to give Christ my meager offerings to do with them what he willed.
Your Stories Are Worthwhile, Storyteller
Since that first novel writing challenge, I've written several stories across several series — novels and short stories both.
So, yes, fiction writer: your stories are worthwhile. Your calling as a storyteller writing fantastical tales and thrilling adventures is as crucial to the Kingdom of Christ as the resourcer crafting studies that plumb the depths of Romans and devotionals that inspire.
Quick Wins
- Name the real question. If you're stalled, ask whether it's a craft problem or a permission problem. They need different medicine.
- Stop auditioning for someone else's shelf. The Lucado-shaped calling is Lucado's. Yours is the one in front of you.
- Count the right returns. Sales are a number. A reader whose heart turned is fruit. Track both, but let the second one settle the question.
- Offer what you have. Loaves and fishes were never impressive. They were available. Faithfulness over perfection.
Your Next Steps
- Write down the permission question you've been carrying. One sentence. Get it out of your head and onto paper where you can actually look at it and pray over it.
- Find the evidence you've already been given. Pull up one reader email, review, or message that told you a story of yours did something in someone. Save it somewhere you'll see it on the hard days.
- Put the next 500 words on the page this week. Not the whole book. The next scene. Momentum is how a calling gets confirmed — you write your way into the answer.
The Kingdom needs its resourcers. It also needs its storytellers. If that pull toward story hasn't let go of you after all these years, brother, sister, that's worth paying attention to.
Create for Christ.
All for God's glory and your neighbor's gospel good.
/ jeremy