In Defense of the F-Word

“Put away from you crooked speech, and put devious talk far from you.” Proverbs 4:24

The first two verses are prescriptive for churches, the last is for God’s people as a whole. There’s no way around it. God doesn’t want Christians cussing.

The Bible is also clear that our words are a reflection of our character. In Matthew 12:34, Jesus says, “How can you speak good things when you are evil? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.”

Therein lies the Christian writer’s conundrum. How does he write his immoral character’s dialogue or narration if that character isn’t able to “speak good things” that Christians are supposed to?

There are a few tricks writers use to write “fuck”-free fiction:

1. Set the story in a time period where contemporary curse words are anachronistic so the reader doesn’t notice their absence.
2. Allude to explicit language instead of including it. (“He cursed under his breath.”)
3. Say “gosh-darn,” “shoot,” and maybe even “crap” if the writer is feeling especially audacious.
4. Write in the third person to avoid stream-of-consciousness profanity.

Francine Rivers employed all four of these in the only book I’ve read more than once, Redeeming Love. I wouldn’t have read her story six times if it wasn’t moving. But, every time a character said “horse manure” instead of “bullshit,” I was jarred into remembering that this was Christian fiction, not realism.

So, why, if a masterful Christian author can write a clean novel, did I write Never Touched with R-rated profanity? There are three possibilities:

1. I’m not as skilled a writer as Francine Rivers and therefore incapable of working within such strict constraints.
2. I’m a sinner.
3. My protagonist is irreverent and dark and sees no issue with her crude language.

The first two are undeniable.

The third brings me back to Matthew 12:34, “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” If you’ll allow me to return to the journalist analogy from Excessive Force, I wouldn’t be a trustworthy reporter if I didn’t allow Sawyer to cuss, to say nasty things like “Fuck him. Please, I mean.” or to think “Every night, I fell asleep to the thought that’d I’d grow the courage Simone did, the strength or balls or foolishness to just say, ‘Fuck it, let the chips fall where they may.'” That’s what’s in Sawyer’s heart, so that’s what comes out of her mouth.

Thus, the crisis: keep my tongue/pen pure or tell the truth.

I chose the latter.

Am I causing you to sin if you read this book littered with “obscene talk?” I can’t cause you to sin. I suppose I could encourage you to. But reading profane talk is the same as reading a news article about a shooting. It’s awful. It’s indignifying. It’s a reflection of the subject’s heart. But it’s not a sin to witness.

If you have personal convictions about reading explicit language, Never Touched isn’t for you. No hard feelings. I’m relieved you know this before reading the book.

If you don’t need your fiction to be “fuck”-free, excellent.

Never Touched isn’t–in any sense of the word.

Next time.