When I tell people I write "clean fiction," I usually get one of two reactions: either a knowing nod from someone who's been searching bookstore shelves for exactly that or a slightly confused look from someone trying to figure out what, exactly, I'm cleaning.
Let me be clear from the start—this isn't about being prudish or sanitizing stories until they're bland. This is about intentional storytelling that respects both my values and my readers' trust.
The Journey to "Clean"
My path to defining clean reads didn't start with a grand manifesto. It started with a simple realization: I was tired of loving a book's premise, falling in love with characters, and then hitting scenes that made me uncomfortable. Not because I'm easily shocked, but because they felt gratuitous—like the author included explicit content because they thought they had to, not because it served the story.
As a Christian woman raising kids in a world full of mixed messages, I found myself constantly doing mental gymnastics. "Well, if I skip chapter twelve and the first half of chapter thirteen, this is actually a great book..." Sound familiar?
That's when it hit me: if I was doing this dance as a reader, other people probably were too. And if I was going to write the stories burning in my heart, why not write them in a way that honored both the craft and my convictions?
What "Clean" Actually Means
Here's what clean fiction means in the Salty Page Books universe:
Clean doesn't mean conflict-free. My characters face real struggles—addiction, betrayal, loss, systemic injustice, and family trauma. The difference is in how I handle these themes. I can write about a character's journey through addiction without glorifying drug use. I can explore the aftermath of betrayal without explicit bedroom scenes.
Clean doesn't mean simple. Some of the most complex moral dilemmas in literature come from characters trying to do the right thing in impossible circumstances. When you remove explicit content as an easy tension-builder, you're forced to dig deeper into character motivation, emotional stakes, and genuine conflict.
Clean doesn't mean preachy. Faith might inform my worldview, but my job as a storyteller is to create authentic human experiences, not deliver sermons. My characters wrestle with doubt, make mistakes, and grow through their struggles—just like real people do.
The Market Is Hungrier Than You Think
Here's something that might surprise you: the market for values-aligned fiction is massive and underserved. When Bridgerton dominated Netflix, clean romance sales skyrocketed. Readers weren't rejecting the romance—they were craving romance that didn't require them to fast-forward through scenes that made them uncomfortable.
The same is true across genres. Cozy mysteries consistently outsell their grittier counterparts. Young adult fiction with a strong moral compass finds devoted audiences. Christian fiction sales continue to grow, but so do "clean reads" that aren't explicitly faith-based.
We're not talking about a niche market anymore. We're talking about readers who want stories that entertain without compromising their values—and that's a lot of people.
Writing Compelling Stories Within Boundaries
The most common pushback I hear about clean fiction is, "But how do you create tension without sex and violence?"
My answer? The same way Jane Austen did. The same way that captured millions of readers' hearts in Pride and Prejudice—a story where the steamiest scene is a hand-flex.
Emotional intimacy is far more compelling than physical intimacy. The moment Elizabeth Bennet realizes she's been wrong about Darcy? The vulnerability when she sees Pemberley and understands his true character? That's the stuff that keeps readers turning pages at 2 AM.
Real conflict comes from character choices. When your protagonist has to choose between career advancement and integrity, between family loyalty and personal truth, between safety and standing up for what's right—that's where real tension lives.
Constraints breed creativity. Some of my best plot twists have come from asking, "How can I create this emotional impact without relying on explicit content?" The answer usually involves better character development, sharper dialogue, and more innovative storytelling.
Bringing Diversity to Clean Fiction
Here's where things get personal. As a Black woman in the publishing world, I'm acutely aware that clean fiction—especially Christian fiction—has historically been very, very white. Walk into most Christian bookstores, and you'll struggle to find main characters who look like me, my children, or many of the people in my community.
This isn't just about representation for representation's sake. It's about the fact that faith communities are beautifully diverse, and our fiction should reflect that reality. It's about kids seeing themselves as heroes in stories that align with their families' values. It's about adults finding characters who navigate faith and culture in ways that resonate with their lived experiences.
When I create diverse characters in my children's fantasy projects, or when I explore the intersection of faith and justice in my contemporary romance, I'm not checking boxes. I'm writing the stories I wish I'd had growing up—stories where people who look like me get to be the heroes, the love interests, and the complex, fully-realized human beings driving the narrative forward.
Clean fiction has room for every background, every culture, every shade of human experience. The stories are richer when we include voices that have been traditionally marginalized, and the market is ready for this kind of authentic representation.
The Stories We're Really Telling
At the end of the day, every story we tell is part of a bigger conversation about what it means to be human. When I choose to write clean fiction, I'm saying that hope is more interesting than despair. I'm saying that love—real, sacrificial, transformative love—is more compelling than lust. I'm saying that characters who struggle toward goodness are more inspiring than characters who embrace darkness.
I'm not saying my way is the only way to tell stories. I'm saying it's one valid way—a way that serves readers who are hungry for fiction that entertains without compromising their values.
Moving Forward
As I continue building the Salty Page Books catalog, every story I publish will be a small act of rebellion against the idea that "clean" means "boring." Every diverse character I create will be a vote for the radical notion that everyone deserves to see themselves as the hero of their own story.
This is my manifesto: I write clean fiction because the world needs more stories that prove you can have compelling conflict without exploiting characters, emotional intimacy without explicit content, and authentic representation without tokenism.
I write clean fiction because someone out there is doing the same mental gymnastics I used to do, looking for stories that speak to their heart without violating their values.
I write clean fiction because these stories matter, these readers matter, and these voices—diverse, authentic, hopeful voices—deserve to be heard.
The tide is changing in publishing. Clean fiction isn't a limitation—it's a choice. And it's a choice that's creating space for stories and voices that have been waiting too long for their turn.
Welcome to the revolution. It's going to be beautiful.
What does "clean fiction" mean to you? I'd love to hear your thoughts on values-aligned storytelling and the kinds of books you're looking for. Share your perspective in the comments or reach out to me directly—I'm always excited to connect with fellow readers and writers who believe stories can change the world.
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