Why Christian writers need community
Photo by Joel Muniz, Unsplash
Writing can be a lonely activity.
At least, that’s what I’ve found over the years as I’ve endeavoured to put pen to paper. And I’ve found this same sentiment echoed in other writers. Many of us are “kitchen-table-writers”—finding time in the margins to write, once we’ve attended to life’s demands or when the rest of the household sleeps.
The loneliness that creeps in is often due to carrying words that feel important, yet not quite knowing who to carry them to or questioning why anyone would care. Imposter syndrome can be overwhelming; the inner critic a relentless pessimist.
I have felt this. As a writer based in New Zealand, for a long time I have written the way I imagine most of us do: privately, conscientiously, a little uncertainly. There’s a sense that these words matter—that my ramblings about faith and life and the ache of being human are not insignificant—but the writing life itself has felt strangely untethered from other parts of my life. My lack of writing consistency and insecurities have also been unhelpful.
It has been community that changed that for me.
The myth of the solitary writer
Culturally, we have inherited a romantic idea of the writer: solitary, misunderstood, furiously scribing masterpieces in noble isolation. And while solitude is valuable as a writer, this myth can be harmful. Our highly individualised cultures tell us that we shouldn’t need other people, that we are better alone. Yet research shows that loneliness is the epidemic of our generation. We are digitally and globally connected but more alone than ever.
Yet if you look at the history of writers who shaped the world, you will see many of them were surrounded by other writers. My favourite example is the Inklings, a literary fellowship which included C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien, arguably some of the greatest writers in history. This group of writers met up at Oxford for over two decades, gathering to share their words, read each other’s manuscripts, and undoubtedly discuss theology, what it means to tell the truth on the page, and surely, the Oxford comma?! Britannica notes that “Lewis wrote of the Inklings, “What I owe to them all is incalculable,” and Tolkien noted that “only by [Lewis’s] support and friendship did I ever struggle to the end” of The Lord of the Rings.”
Community did not detract from their writing. It deepened it.
Community did not detract from their writing. It deepened it.
There is an important distinction between solitude and isolation. Solitude can be a healthy discipline for writers. I love taking a notebook, pen, and coffee, and sitting alone in nature or at a cafe. Solitude seems necessary for my thoughts to spill over onto paper and for creativity to flourish. But sometimes, it gets confused with isolation—they are not the same thing. Isolation brings with it the absence of encouragement or accountability, unhelpful in the life of a believer. Isolation all the time is not ideal, and is not the Biblical pattern. We were created for community, for communion, for closeness—this is where our faith and lives are outworked.
Why Christian writers need community
Community is important. Part of orthodox Christian theology is that, as humans made in the imago Dei, the image of God, we were created for community. This is emphasised throughout Scripture, from Genesis, where God’s trinitarian nature displays community, right through the biblical story into the early church and the picture of the church community as the bride of Christ. When I read through the gospels, I see Jesus investing his time to be with others, from children to crowds to the needy to his disciples. Yes, carved out times of solitude but his norm was to spend time connecting with people in meaningful ways. It is in the context of community that we flourish.
It is in the context of community that we flourish.
Christian writing communities are unique in their aim to support one another through craft development and through the lens of a shared faith. And this can be powerful, regardless of the genre you write in and whether your writing is overtly faith-based or not.
For me, being around others who have a shared faith and a desire to write normalises the creative calling. The opportunity to encourage one another, share ideas, ask questions, and get feedback, moves my writing forward in ways I find difficult to make happen on my own.
How to find (or build) a Christian writing community
So, how do you find, or build, a community? Start small. Reach out to people in your real life who are interested in writing, and suggest meeting up regularly for the purpose of writing. Google, Facebook, and Substack are places I have discovered local and online events and groups. When I first ventured into writing beyond my private journal, I stumbled upon a Christian writing community on Facebook, and it has had a huge influence on my writing.
Since then, I’ve been part of a number of writing communities. Some have been formal groups whilst others have organically developed from friendships. Some were formed through my local church whilst others have been online, with members unknown to me in real life. Whatever your particular situation, there are communities out there who would benefit from your unique voice.
Perhaps my favourite part of connecting with fellow Christian writers, though, has taken place on Christian writing retreats. If you have the opportunity and the means to attend a writing retreat, please do so. You will be refreshed and encouraged in ways you cannot imagine.
Why retreats, specifically
Writing groups are awesome. Even online communities can be real and sustaining. But there is something that only a retreat can do, and I think it has to do with time and space.
In ordinary life, writing competes with everything else. It happens in the gaps—early mornings, lunch hours, or if you’re like me, late in the evenings when the children are in bed. We do extraordinary things in those gaps, and I don’t want to diminish that. But a retreat removes that ingrained idea that our writing comes after everything else. For a few days, writing is not the thing you squeeze in; it is the focal point.
There is also something about place. When we step outside our usual surroundings, we have a special opportunity to really notice. I truly think that to be a good writer, you must become a good noticer—seeing the details in the ordinary that many overlook. New landscapes unlock something in the imagination. Quiet spaces feel sacred. The body, given rest and time and space, opens up in ways that sitting at the desk at home cannot always do.
I truly think that to be a good writer, you must become a good noticer—seeing the details in the ordinary that many overlook.
I have watched writers arrive at retreats with a half-formed, lingering idea. With a sense of having something they want to say but haven’t found the words for—yet. I have been one of these writers. And I have watched people leave with pages. With clarity. With book ideas. With the newfound confidence that comes from having been truly seen and heard by people who care about the same things you do. I have left retreats ready to take my next writing step.
On bringing your whole self
Christian retreats offer something else, too: the freedom to bring your faith into the room.
In secular writing spaces, faith is sometimes tolerated but not necessarily welcomed into conversations about craft. At a Christian writing retreat, however, prayer and writing sit side by side. Like the poets from my favourite poetry book, the Psalms, you are welcome to bring your whole self, a messy tapestry of your lived human experience with the thread of faith woven all throughout.
And this wholeness matters. I believe we write better when we do not have to leave parts of ourselves at the door.
Come and write in Spain
In 2027, a fellow writer friend and I are hosting a Christian Writers Retreat in Spain—a small, intentional gathering for Christian writers who want to give their writing the time, space, and community it deserves.
We will carve out space and time to write. We will spend time together and share and learn and pray. We will explore the beautiful Spanish countryside, eat well, rest, and return home with more than we arrived with—ready to take our next writing step, whatever that may look like.
Places are limited, and I would love to invite you to join us.
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