Part of a series of interviews with experienced Christian writers—of academic and popular theology, fiction, and those writing for a non-Christian audience.
How did you decide to take writing more seriously? Did someone encourage you to do so?
In primary school, the only time I got good marks was for my creative writing. In high school my history and English teachers praised my writing and my grade eight English teacher read one of my pieces aloud. I was a massive underachiever at school, so this stood out to me.
After having kids, I wanted to work more flexibly and use my writing to make a living. In 2011, I got my first gig writing a literature review for the University of Tasmania, then became a research assistant for an academic, doing literature searches and summaries. My boss helped me get my first academic paper in print and I presented it at an international conference held in Hobart. With that same writing team, I re-wrote someone’s master’s thesis into a paper which was also published. Even though I dreamed of writing fiction, I found non-fiction solid and reassuring. You can build a piece on facts and ideas. Having strong information-seeking and retrieval skills made non-fiction more achievable than the worldbuilding and dialogue-writing of fiction.
How do you think about your explicitly Christian writing? As a ministry? A hobby? A vocation? A side hustle?
I’ve probably only recently seen my explicitly Christian writing (and speaking) as ministry. Librarians and academics are trained in seeking, finding, synthesising and critically analysing texts. I want to apply my professional skills to help Christians. My goal is for Christians to access ideas through a synthesis of different sources, written in an interesting way, so that they can make good decisions and discern truth in a confusing age.
How do you think about your less-explicitly Christian writing, whether fiction or non-fiction? A hobby? Part of the cultural mandate? Cultural engagement? Pre-evangelism?
Ethnographic research focusses on subtleties of observation, behaviour and emotion, with the aim of synthesising conflicting data. It’s a very personal process that brings deep insight and understanding. I aim to treat complex situations with truth and perspective, neither turning the pain of the harmed into a misery circus nor demonising those who behave badly.
Even though this writing isn’t explicitly Christian, there’s often an element of Christian apologetics because I write in religion studies and adjacent fields. I hope that in what I have written this year I have shared my faith, and inspired others to think carefully, delight in worldly phenomena and celebrate human dignity.
Where do your ideas and inspiration come from?
Most ideas come to me while enjoying music, a novel, a film, a TV show, or from personal experiences. Ideas usually come in words and phrases, but sometimes I have a flash of a visual idea. Visual ideas can be a challenge to express in words. I try to find ways to communicate my ideas that makes my heart sing. I look for the critical hope in the stories I tell, so that I can redeem them for myself and hopefully the wider world.
Do you have any advice for those starting to seek publication? What insights can you give into the mysterious publication process?
My advice is to reflect on your motivations and the audience you want to reach. Pray for connections. Don’t be shy about pursuing leads, like asking a friend to give you an introduction to an editor, for example.
If you are exploring academic publication, you could attend a low-cost conference close to home to get a sense of what goes down well in your discipline. Some academic papers, books and chapters take years to get published. Successful academics have many irons in the fire because they expect delays and knockbacks.
Writing popular pieces for websites and magazines has different challenges. You might write an awesome piece and then the cultural moment passes. Don’t be offended if something you submit doesn’t get picked up.
How do you think and feel about getting feedback and editorial input? Has that changed over time?
I used to share my writing with friends a little too early and then get discouraged by the notes. I now refine my work a lot more than I used to before asking someone what they think. This means I have already dealt with the distracting spelling errors, weird word usage and convoluted passages, so they can focus on whether the ideas are landing.
I’ve learned that finding the editorial process hard doesn’t mean that I am a bad writer. It helps to assess whether my goals for an article are the same as the editor’s. An editor who understands what I want to say and the audience I am trying to reach is a wonderful gift from God. I love an editor who can preserve my voice while urging subtraction for the good of the reader. There are rewards from writing for an editor that’s not just to do with reaching your audience. It’s a partnership.
I value getting something published over the details of this or that word, this quote or that title. Focussing on the outcome takes the sting out of the individual edits. I can always write what I want on my Substack or develop different ideas in another space. This is not saying an editor is always right and that you should never push back.
What are your coping strategies for rejections, or not hearing back from people you share your work with—whether editors or friends and family?
I still find rejection hard, so I tend to submit carefully. I find calls for submissions with a definite scope easier than pitching an article cold. These calls give more guidance on how to give a submission my best shot, tailoring something I am passionate about to the specific brief.
I ask God for people who are receptive to my work. I’m still surprised, looking back on the opportunities I botched, on the one hand, and the opportunities that miraculously happened without me doing much to deserve them, on the other.
When friends and family give feedback, I remind myself that they are not professional editors. Their advice may be gold, but they may say it in a way that’s hard to hear, especially if they have different opinions on a controversial issue. I receive their feedback but don’t take strongly worded advice personally. I also seek feedback from various people, rather than completely taking on only one set of recommendations. I give more weight to those who are avid readers in my target area.
Is it difficult for you to promote yourself and your work?
It’s awkward. I tend to downplay what I do, because it feels like marketing. I recently had an academic chapter published by a prestigious publisher. I’d been waiting for the book to be published for three years while I was an independent researcher. My first instinct was just to tell friends and family, but my colleagues urged me to promote it on my library’s social media channel. I would have had no issues bragging about another colleague’s achievements, but it felt indulgent to promote my own. In the end, because my institution benefitted from my achievements and promoting my work drew people to the library I decided to post it. I decided to schedule the post for the following week, so that I felt less awkward when it was posted. Even though I’m the one making the socials content and clicking schedule, it somehow feels less awkward when it arrives in the feed. I can switch between content creator role and social media manager role, without going into self-critical-editor mode
What are particular temptations for writers? What are some strategies to resist them?
I remember a showrunner of a TV show saying that even when a show has a collaborative team, they write an episode in “their own private hell.” I don’t think it’s that bad, but it can be lonely and exhausting—especially when writing on depressing topics. One of my strategies is to find people, in group chats or in person, with whom I can think out loud. Float some sentences or paragraphs and let them react.
It’s also good to take breaks from writing and thinking about writing and guilting yourself about not writing. Give yourself permission not to write for a period. Even when writing on a deadline, find time to let a piece sit overnight or for the weekend. This lets the ideas stew and gives you a mental break. An occupational hazard is that even your relaxation can become fuel for the writing fire. When you are resting, the solution to a writing problem comes to you and you’re torn between smashing out the piece then and there or writing notes for later. Weigh up your need for rest against your drive to write. That drive might be pure inspiration, or pure self-loathing, or terror of missing a deadline. All drives (even the good ones) need to be rested from so that your natural reserves can restore themselves.
How can friends support Christian writers?
Read their work! But if it’s not really your thing, you don’t need to tell them you don’t like it. Instead, maybe share it with someone you think will love it. If it is your thing, tell them so!
If you have feedback, share the advice in a “compliment sandwich”. If you have deep concerns about ideas in their writing, pray and reflect on whether this is just your own biases and hangups, or whether it’s important to tell them your concerns.
How can ministry leaders support Christian writers?
I have been really encouraged by ministry leaders who have found a place for me in their ministry and have asked me to speak or write. Some churches have featured one of my articles in their church bulletin or linked to a podcast I hosted on their website. Being told that someone benefitted from my work is the ultimate encouragement and helps me give glory to God. It helps me when I wonder if I should give up.
What do you recommend to those who want to work on their writing?
Pick a few things at a time to improve, rather than feeling that you have to work on everything at once.
When seeking to improve, think sideways. If you want to improve your descriptions, for example, rather than giving yourself description-writing drills, just pay attention to your surroundings for a season. Notice the way people gesture, the phrases some say, notice the way someone moves. Notice the difference between your own emotions and someone else’s. Be present. The act of writing is an act of agency, of communicating. Reflect on who you are and why you write, then keep going.
