Twenty Years of Words: Then, Now, and Next

The tools of writing may change, but the call to create comes from the same eternal source. Elaine Fraser

Twenty years ago, when my first book came out, the writing world looked very different. I wrote drafts in Word, sometimes scribbling in notebooks, and emailed chapters back and forth with friends. Publishing felt like a closed door you had to be invited through. Self-publishing existed, but it carried a stigma, and eBooks were barely on the horizon. Mostly, I sat at my desk, cup of tea nearby, wrestling with sentences in quiet solitude.

Fast forward to today, and the landscape has shifted dramatically. Indie publishing is not only respected but thriving. Writers use programs like Scrivener, Notion, or even AI tools to organise writing projects or marketing strategies. Collaboration happens on Zoom, in shared Google Docs, or in online writing groups that span continents. Workshops and festivals are no longer bound by geography; I can attend a conference in London or New York without leaving my living room. Of course, the digital world also brings new distractions — my smartphone constantly buzzes with notifications that compete with the quiet focus writing still demands.

In the smartphone age, we are bombarded daily by the immediate:
Facebook updates, blog posts, and breaking news stories.
Yet the most important book for our soul is ancient.
Tony Reinke, 12 Ways Your Phone Is Changing You (Crossway, 2017).

Given this rapid transformation, what might the next twenty years hold? The pace of change seems to be accelerating. Instant audiobooks and even voice cloning mean a book could be released in an author’s own voice without a studio. Translation tools hint at a future where stories are shared across languages instantly. New publishing models may allow readers and writers to connect directly, bypassing the traditional gatekeepers altogether. It’s both exciting and a little daunting. And yet even as technology dazzles us with new possibilities, we remain spiritual beings with a deep yearning for connection — to God and to one another. Stories, in every form, are one of the ways we answer that yearning.

And yet, some things haven’t changed at all. The love of words. The grind of getting a story out of your head and onto the page. The joy of connecting with fellow writers over coffee, at retreats, or in the hallways of festivals. The deep satisfaction when a paragraph finally sings. Those constants are what keep me returning to the page, no matter how many tools and platforms come and go. As a Christian writer, this call to create is more than just persistence or practice — it feels like a reflection of the Creator’s own heart. We are made in God’s image, so it makes sense that the desire to shape and share stories still pulses strongly, no matter how the world changes. Writing is both craft and prayer: a human response to the Creator’s call to create.

As I reflect on my own writing journey, and think about the books still to come, I know this: technology will keep evolving, but the writer’s task remains the same. To sit with the blank page, wrestle with words, and create stories that matter. The tools may change, but the call to create — and the joy of sharing those creations — endures. For me, that call is both craft and vocation, a reminder that stories connect us human to human, and human to divine.