I’m honored to report that The Sower of Black Field received not just one—BUT TWO—first-place awards in the 2025 Catholic Media Association Book Awards!
The novel won first place in the “Catholic Novel” and “Self-published Books” categories. This makes 13 major awards for The Sower of Black Field (and 23 total if you count finalist and shortlist placements.) Every win for this book is a grace. These awards from the Catholic Media Association are particularly meaningful because it’s a validation at the end of a long journey.
Also, I’m compelled to reflect. What is a “Catholic novel”?
I began writing The Sower in 2004. I started pitching it to agents and publishers ten years ago. I gradually realized that, in terms of genre, it was a square peg in a sea of round holes. Historical fiction agents said it was too religious for their taste, and I needed to approach faith-based markets. Christian fiction agents and editors confirmed that it was a great faith story, but repeatedly said it was too Catholic for their audience. The Catholic fiction market is much smaller, and tends to focus on saints and biblical figures—not contemporary historical figures like Fr. Viktor Koch. C.P.
In the end, “going indie” (self-publishing) ended up being the only path forward.
I wrote The Sower thinking that it was an amazing, true-to-life, historical fiction story with faith-based themes (and the main character just happened to be a Catholic priest in a Catholic town). Now I’ve come to appreciate what it means to write a “Catholic novel.”
A Catholic novel is not simply a faith story that checks all the boxes of Catholic identity. If you’re a character in a Catholic novel, watch out! Your faith is going to come under fire. Your journey will take you through dark and gritty turns, and as you struggle in the flames of that crucible, you’ll deeply ponder what you believe and why you believe it. In the end—particularly if you’re a main character with “plot armor,” who moves the story forward—you’ll emerge with an understanding far more profound than you exhibited at the beginning. In the best case, it will inspire readers to seek (or nourish) a connection with something far higher than themselves.
Personally, I think novels like these are not only relevant and satisfying, but timely as well. These days, when I read a news headline and struggle to make sense of the world, I take solace in stories of people who had the same fears in their times, and find comfort in their ability to endure. Best of all, you don’t have to be Catholic to appreciate these stories. They touch upon fears and struggles that are timeless and universal. If you have a functional nerve ending and a beating heart, you can relate.
Twenty years is a long time to dream, pray, and fight for a novel. What a grace to get to the end and hear someone say, “Yes, you have produced a Catholic novel—and it’s a good one.”
