Every so often, I get a question I’m not sure how to answer. Sometimes I simply don’t have the right words, but more often it’s because of the context or the asker. Yesterday, I had someone ask for a copy of my novel. Usually, this question simply annoys me. I’m an author—I prefer to get paid for what I do. If I give a copy to every person who asks, I won’t earn a living. More often than not, I wish I could answer the query with, “Do I ask you to do your job for free?”
In this context, which happened to be at church, I had a different internal reaction. Of course, I still prefer people buy my work. However, when it comes to Christians asking what I write or wanting a copy, I’m touchy about it for other reasons.
I used to keep my spiritual life and my professional life more or less separate. This is in part because of some negative experiences at a former church in which I was…threatened might be too harsh a word, but I was definitely on their radar for posting about controversial (to them) issues. Upon finding a new church home, despite the lovely sticker on the door assuring me of their inclusivity, I haven’t been entirely forthcoming about certain aspects of my life or work.
More recently, especially since publishing one novel and having a second in the queue (and three for 2016!), I’ve been a bit more open. Cue the all the questions about my writing, right along with my sweating palms, shaking knees, and bright red blush. I’m still stuck in the headspace of my days having to hide vital parts of my personhood to appease anyone who might be inclined to suggest my eternal whereabouts. (With good reason; this actually happened to me. I had a private message from someone I thought was a friend telling me I was consorting with “lesbian satanists” and Jesus had “shaken the dust from his feet over me.” Okay, yeah, that’s kind of funny in hindsight. It was hurtful at the time.)
Now, bear in mind, the woman who asked about my book yesterday is an open-minded, intelligent person, and I love talking to her and her husband. They are terrific people and probably the last folks who would have kittens over something I wrote. I’m also at low-risk of a pitying and/or threatening phone call regarding my church membership, since we don’t work that way. I think my one and only conversation about it with my pastor can be summed up by this exchange:
She: Oh, you’re an author?
Me: Yes.
She: What do you write?
Me: [thinking, Shit! Don’t ask me that!] Um, I don’t think it’s exactly church appropriate. I wouldn’t put it in the library.
She: It’s fiction, right?
Me [thinking, What does that have to do with anything?]: Yes, of course.
She: Then I’m sure it’s fine.
Me [thinking, That’s because you haven’t read it.]: Uh…
True Confession Time: I may or may not have been…misleading about the degree of romance in my novel in order to end the conversation (my pastor has assured me she doesn’t read romance). Wait…she might be reading this. Um, if so, I’m sorry! My anxiety about people with spiritual authority and being put on church discipline is a separate blog post. Or a therapy session or ten; whichever.
I’m sure I’ve built it up in my mind far more than any reaction I’d actually get. I’ve been surprised before. I had three women (all of whom are avid fans of Game of Thrones and none of whom are religious) say to me after reading my first novel, “That was more sex than I prefer.” So…violence and rape are ho-hum but guys having (not even very explicit!) ass sex is too much. You may see why I worry about what I’m going to tell people at church.
On the other hand, I also have had several (straight) men tell me they loved the book. That was equally surprising. It’s not primarily a love story, so that may have been the appeal and why the sex wasn’t especially concerning. I also had several reviewers (all women) tell me it was “not sexy.” Well, yes, you see, because it wasn’t a damn romance! There’s just no predicting what sort of response I’ll get.
I suppose therein lies the problem. I’m used to the eye rolls, the worries about my soul, the offhand comments. I’m used to losing friends over who I am and what I choose to speak and write about. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I care deeply what others think of me. Having people believe my salvation is in danger plays on my greatest lifelong fear: rejection, be it by humans or by God. I’m honestly not sure which I think is worse.
Anyway, I think I may give a copy of the novel to the lovely woman at church. She strikes me as the sort who a) won’t care that it’s not a romance and b) won’t care that there’s non-hetero sex in it. The idea of letting people at church in on my work and still being able to look them in the eye when we pass the peace is appealing. I think I’m finally ready to let go of my fears surrounding some religious folks’ conservative values and start embracing my authentic self—including my professional writing.
Dear anyone from my church reading this: Please know I love you all dearly. I’m owning my fears, and it’s not your fault. I was in very different circles for more than twenty years before we met. Unlearning takes time.
