Writing Queer 1: unpromising beginnings

 The first of my four Pride Month posts, and it's on a personal note. It's how I began experiencing, and then writing, queer characters and story themes. I may have become relatively well immersed in that side of my writing these days, but it took some time and a few dud starts.

Coming to terms with my own bisexuality was a longish process, but in hindsight that feels like nothing compared to my journey getting myself to properly representing people in the modern world, where diversity of gender and sexual identity is something that is important to acknowledge. I've still got some way to go, and things have continued to get either better or worse depending where you live. But here's how things started. Beginning with...my own external experience of queerness.

My awareness of LGBTQIA+ in media was...lacking, for a lot of my life. Not because I didn't have exposure or tolerance, I had both within my immediately family, but just because a lot of my awareness came from media. I wasn't much of a going out and interacting with people type for a number of reasons, so I wasn't exposed to that spectrum. I also wasn't being exposed to standard society-level homophobia, so you could say I had some advantage in that I was able to look at something without any early filter of stereotype.

I guess it's best to start with my 'awakening', even if I didn't become fully aware of my sexuality until the last few years. A lot of people in my social circle have pointed to Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weitz in 1999's The Mummy as their bisexual awakening. More power to them, but honestly Fraser isn't my type, and when I saw the film I wasn't developed enough in that direction to understand. I now realise in retrospect that my own bi awakening was with Angelina Jolie and Gerard Butler from the not-very-good 2001 film Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life. I didn't know why this film was stuck in the recesses of my mind for years until recently. A: the leads' chemistry surrounding their characters' tragic rivalry made up for shortfalls in the story and script, and B: ....I found both of them physically attractive.

So...that's a start.

My first exposure to anything explicitly queer within a story was...the 1985 film Red Sonja. I've voiced my opinions on an aspect of the film, and I don't think it's very good. It's just a bog standard 1980s fantasy film based on a fantasy tradition that today feels very dated. But Red Sonja was also my first exposure to a lesbian in the form of Queen Gedrun. A pretty dodgy example, and one I didn't clock. To me it just seemed like someone who took people as servants and trophies rather than as unwilling companions. As I said, I wasn't that aware. And so we've gone from one poor movie to another, and from standard awakening to 'YIKES!' representation.

I didn't keep much of an explicit track of my awareness of LGBTQIA+ in fiction, or in real life, until I was well into my 20s. There were a few bits and pieces that surfaced, such as short films which I tended not to like as they were just depressing (finding LGBTQIA+ media that isn't depressing was like finding hen's teeth until recently). And there were some creators coming out with what I found out was called 'Word of Gay', which I've come to look slant-eyed at because... I mean, if you wanted them to be on the spectrum, just say so. Show it in a way that doesn't require you to come out from behind the curtain and address the audience in an "oh, by the way" style.

At that point, I discovered video game romances, and exploring them found several queer options. I admit that includes BioWare, as cheesy as they can be, but role-playing these characters gave me a solid sense of what I liked and didn't like. Years later as a fully awakened bisexual I played Dragon Age Inquisition, and I ended up romancing first Cassandra as a man, then Iron Bull also as a man. I also have to commend both as the most entertaining romances since they both play in good ways with genre tropes; Cassandra was played as the nervous young woman without losing her badass aspect, while Iron Bull's BDSM relationship is based firmly in reality rather than...whatever Foofta Blegh of Blegh does.

A few years after that I'd also run into...yaoi and bara. It was almost inevitable that I would do that since I enjoyed anime, and was interested in stuff beyond the obvious mainstream. For those who don't know yet, 'Yaoi' is a Western term for Boy's Love media that is often written by women and has a reputation for being slightly trashy, while 'Bara' is a subset of Japanese manga that is primarily written by LGBTQIA+ authors and frequently NSFW.

I admit, here and now, that my shelves are a little bare of LGBTQIA+ content. Partly because I'm terrible at finding things and need to be selective due to budget, but also because many of the experiences I get recommended are also depressing. It's been the reality for queer people for a long time, particularly the last two centuries, that being queer was dangerous or depressing or to live in an oppressed state. But when I read a story, I don't just want to be depressed, I want to laugh and be enlightened and see a vision of how the world could be.

My own experience with being queer hasn't been depressing and oppressed, I've been allowed to mature and experience myself. I now have a full awareness of my self and my sympathies, and while I have occasionally run into homophobia in this wild place called the internet, I've never felt any push to engage. I just turned quietly away, blocked, didn't even say goodbye, and walked on ignoring them. That, for me, is the sign of strength for my own queer experience. I also don't feel the need to broadcast my sexuality on a personal level, as I'm overall comfortable with who I am. I fully realise that's not a universal experience. But neither is misery.

And it's with that strange combination of isolation and personal certainty, and growing frustration of a fictional norm of heartbreak and misery over happy endings, that I truly started putting queer characters into my writing. Next week, I'm planning an exploration of my journey to writing my own brand of queer representation in my writing. Its rocky beginnings, and its currently and hopefully much smoother reality.

If you want to know more about my general writing journey, I created a podcast/video on the subject, including me reading out some of my less cringy early writing to show how my style and approach evolved. It even includes a sample of my upcoming novel The Murderer's Lament, now expected to release in 2027.

The latest Author Talks: M. R. James

 It's the first Sunday of the month, so it's the day when I release the episode of my one-person podcast Author Talks, guaranteed no AI included. This time, it's a look at an author I've recently delved into both in his fictional writing, his life, and analysis of his work. That person is M. R. James, a father of the modern folk horror and maestro of the ghost story. Not only do I look over his work and what makes his work appealing, and how aspects of him and it haven't aged that well, but I also give an abridged reading of one of his stories. That story, 'The Mezzotint', is possibly one of the best introductions to the M. R. James short story.

YouTube link

Spotify link

Starting tomorrow: My Pride Month endeavours.

Third year in a row I've done this. A celebration of the beautiful rainbow of human experience many historians stubbornly insisted didn't exist for some odd reason and they also need therapy. For the month of June, AKA Pride Month, I decided in 2024 to highlight different people during the month's thirty days. I first focused on a mixture of novellists both old and new, then last year on other artistic groups including composers and painters. Now, for my third year, I....couldn't. I couldn't actually get anything together for either historical figures (so tragic) or mythological beings (plenty but oh boy the work). If I were completely on top of things, I would have been doing this. But I've been severely ill, and now I'm literally one day away from publishing this as I write it, so instead I'm going to do something else. Since there are four Sundays in the month this time, I'm going to be publishing a post each month. These posts will be talking about my experiences as I moved into writing queer characters in my own work.

My writing as it stands is stuffed with queer representation. The Cluster Cycle has main characters that are somewhere on the spectrum, my radio play The Angry House has a male lead, and I've written other shorter pieces that feature them. I'm also bisexual in real life, and while I'm prone towards pessimism when it comes to society, I truly feel that we can push back against the absolute BS that's happening in the world right now. We can stop this, if we just stubbornly refuse to be classed as lesser.

The first Sunday of the coming month will also see the release of the second in this year's Author Talks podcast episodes, which means there will be two posts on 7 June. I'm hoping I'll be back on my feet before the end of next week, and that I'll be able to give you some extra bits and pieces through my socials. I might even have an update on my third much-delayed Cluster Cycle book, The Murderer's Lament.

But for now, here's some interesting people I found while drafting my intended list of people to show on my socials for each day of Pride Month.

The Chevalière d'Éon, a member of the French court who lived as a man for the first part of her life, then switched in both dress and gender identity to a woman for the rest of it. A spy, soldier, and successful diplomat who sadly fell foul of the French Revolution, their legacy lives on.

Zhou Wenren (or Zhou Wen or Zhou Ren), the Director of Palace Attendants during the reign of Emperor Jing of China's Han Dynasty. While the information we have is a little spotty and comes from a single source where Zhou Wenren is listed among "Male Favourites" of the Han court, it's recorded that Emperor Jing favoured Zhou Wenren above all other officials around him. And unlike many other imperial lovers, Zhou Wenren managed to live to a cushy retirement under Emperor Wu.

Michael Dillon, a Merchant Navy doctor and later Buddhist monk. While he is more commonly known as the first recorded trans man to undergo phalloplasty, his life is interesting beyond that. From his time in the Merchant Navy during WW2, to his life as a monk under the name Lobzang Jivaka, to his writing on both his own life and his experiences or Tibetan Buddhism, Dillon is a fascinating individual to research.

Philolaus of Corinth, a Corinthian lawmaker who lived during the 700 BCE. Lover of the chariot racer Diocles, the two left Corinth and settled in Thebes, staying together for the rest of their lives. Philolaus is attributed with creating laws in Thebes which allowed two adult men to remain together as a couple beyond the time when pederastic tradition insisted they parted. He can be seen as a proto-gay rights lawmaker, though we must remember the times he lived in.

Historical accounts today and in olden times are chronically underwritten when it comes to women of any kind, let alone those on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum. Doesn't help that many initial English translators for non-English sources lived during a time of (if possible) even greater discrimination and phobia. But I hope you can look these few up and get some interesting information about them.

So, here's to Pride Month, starting tomorrow. And may we reclaim and enshrine for good the rights that are being slowly stripped back from us by idiotic, short-sighted, and/or prejudiced politicians and lawmakers.

Short story - Maybe Tomorrow

 Apathy is my attorney, and my prosecutor. My liberator and my jailer. As I approach a bus stop on the rainy street, a van decked in neon placards drives by. It’s showing part of a phrase which I read before I can tune it out. ‘Fifth consecutive term for...’. I know the name, don’t bother to think about it any more. Elections are a joke, votes are merely displays like damage numbers above an enemy that will respawn no matter what you do. And unlike in video games, life doesn’t give you a restart button, cheats, save states, or the ability to just put the game down if you’re too frustrated with it.

I stand at the bus stop, looking at the faces around me. My mother told me once that this place used to be diverse, full of people from across the world. Now Pantone 720 is literally everywhere. Even the beggars are card-carrying members of the great colonial host. So I am, on the surface. But my soul is not, though that counts for little. They digitise souls now in the great silicon farms that we must conserve energy for lest they lose a few nanoseconds of profit. The same music plays. They don’t import music any more. Or anything. They don’t export either.

I step aboard the bus, settle down, watch. Something shows in the bus screens, a new update from someone I don’t need to remember. It is a declaration that we are strong, we are beautiful, we lead the world. No-one has left our country for nearly a decade, and no-one visits us any more. But that doesn’t matter because I am told everything is good, everything is perfect. We founded this country, we reached the Moon, we discovered everything that the rest of the world insists it did first. Our leaders won fair and square even when people say they didn’t.

I say apathy is many things. Because it coddles me from what is around me, and stops me from doing anything else. There is much that I might say, but I do not. What is the point for me? Others do speak, and I believe they are findable amid the new AI actors and AI films and AI bibles and AI policies. They’re throwing another AI ball next week for the Silicon Giants. I’ll never be invited, but I watch. That dress is nice. That suit is nice. Why is that person at the back being clubbed? It doesn’t matter to me. That shirt is nice.

Somewhere a siren howls. Somewhere people are screaming. I don’t look at the bus’s bulletin board as it flashes red. Maybe the leader needed to talk about their latest social media post. They do that a lot these days, from their wheelchair with pipes covering all parts of their body. How old are they now? It doesn’t matter, they are healthy and always will be healthy. They aren’t riddled with heart trouble, dementia, or anything else. They are healthy, and we believe they are healthy.

My apartment is at the top of the building, where no-one can get to for cleaning. I accept it, it is my pay grade. I accept that this world will not change, that people will not change. People used to talk about change, but that shifted. Someone said something about rigging, another person said germs were good, another said life began before it began and must be respected. My mother died giving birth after someone made her pregnant against her will. We don’t mind. It is as we are told, and as we are instructed to believe.

My social media feeds are exploding as I ascend in the lift. A new trend, a new mega ultra super important thing is happening somewhere for someone. I must be part of it or I shall be missing out. Play this game, be outraged at this comment, follow this fashion trend, scream this song at the top of your voice. This is the new hotness, and I can’t smile. Why smile at something that has happened a million times before? And always with the same words, rearranged to fit.

I enter my apartment. It smells odd, but then it always smells like something. We are told the situation will improve, that we shall be fed more, that we shall extend into the infinite horizon.

The smell is coming from the further side of my apartment. I look at the hole there. It wasn’t there before, a hole I barely remember. It is a hole in my room, in my world, in my life. A hole through to the next apartment, which is blackened and melted into nothing. Somewhere again a siren is howling, somewhere else again people are screaming. Nothing for me to worry about. No-one on my social level has anything to worry about.

I lie down on the bed, and go to sleep, ignoring a new blast of sirens in the streets. Something very bright happening outside. Maybe I’ll find out what happened. Maybe tomorrow.

New Author Talks episode; the Time Travel discussion

 Another year, another attempt to do something vaguely entertaining. I previously noted that it was planned, but things ended up being...dragged out. This time for the first episode, it's an exploration through the medium of Author Talks focuses on time travel, and its use in one particular cult series. A series I kinda liked but also kinda didn't like but then liked again then really didn't like and then appreciated for what it tried to do and-- If you want more coherent thoughts and analysis, the episode's down below. Enjoy!

YouTube version

Spotify Version

Writing as a bisexual; being the quiet one.

 Last month, it was talking about my relationship to gender. This time, writing with my own sexuality in mind in a modern world where performing sexuality is...a thing, unfortunately. This post was inspired by Emily Inkpen's own article on the topic, "Writing Queer Experiences as a Bisexual Woman". It's only within the last five years that I realised there was nothing wrong with being attracted to both men and women. I found women attractive and alluring, but then I started having the same feelings for men and wasn't processing it well internally. I wasn't acting out, I just kept it bottled up to work through. And I found that just because I liked both didn't mean I was potentially promiscuous or anything. I was just me.

I fully admit, my experience with real life is limited. Due to various factors, I don't get out a huge amount, so many of my experiences of queer representation have been through media. And on the whole, bisexual characters have it pretty rough. Either they are labelled as gay or straight if they settle with one gender or the other, or are given negative character traits such as commitment issues or some variant on classical depravity and personal issues. Truth be told, one of my upcoming stories has elements of that, which will need to be addressed during edits.

Something that I've ended up being conscious about with regards to my characters, as I tend to put both men and women in my casts, is the inevitable "shipping". Obviously "shipping" happens regardless, but it's more the tacit assumption that of course man and woman will get together. It's not a fact of life, but it's a dictate of the society we inherited from the Victorian middle class that man and woman must get together at story's end. Some of the great narratives have been permanently crippled by this pressure.

I've also found a penchant for writing a certain type of character dynamic; a duo where one is gay, the other is straight, and they aren't the same gender. Or having the only real romantic element be outside the straight zone. I used to be concerned about this kind of thing, wondering what people would think. Then I realised that I shouldn't have to care about it, and if I just wrote what I wanted to and stood my ground, that would be better. Not just for others on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum, but for me. If I could write bisexuals with stable lives and characters, gay and lesbian relationships that weren't tragic or traumatic, trans and intersex characters living their best life, and asexual characters able to be who they are without being judged.

It's genuinely tricky to write about the queer experience when you haven't been that greatly immersed, having spent a lot of time online and living in an out-of-the-way part of the world where I don't know if someone being very openly queer would go down well. It helps that my usual gender presentation is very subdued male-coded, to the point I've heard some people surprised when I mentioned my orientation. But I've also learned through that and my tastes in fiction to never, ever judge someone by their external appearance. Because of that lack of stock or weight in external looks, I tend not to gravitate towards extravagant or extroverted characters. Instead, I've found myself writing people who are...just people.

That can make me feel almost guilty, combined with the fact that as a white man, I've got several engrained cultural prejudices working in my favour. Surely I have to be loud and proud, it's the expected thing, it's the norm! I say, who sets that as the norm? The more I looked, the more it felt like what started out as a genuine sign of rebellion against the establishment is now being encouraged by the establishment to act like an ID tag, and because of that I don't see people like me. I see angst and flamboyance, which is all well and good, that does happen. But it's still saddeningly rare to see.

I guess this is less about writing as a bisexual man, and more about writing as me; someone retiring, shy, a listener and writer who still likes to talk a lot, but also likes his quiet times. I'm not a party animal, I'm comfortable in my gender. I don't fit into the 'pattern' that it feels like queer romance or queer existence is still being squeezed into. I understand there's an appeal of seeing any kind of queer representation, but it's starting to feel rather one-note. I'm pleased there's increased diversity being pushed through, especially now with basic freedom of expression under attack.

I write as a bisexual man regardless of what I look like, and write to include as much diversity as my stories and characters will allow. And I try to write about my own experience of bisexuality; the sort who's just part of the crowd, walking down the street in everyday clothes, but still able to--to appropriate a phrase--have my emotional bread buttered on both sides.

Looking back at my study books...

 So, I've been going through the process of getting myself an English Language and Literature degree with the Open University. Still got stuff to do (not the end of Academic year yet), but in the name of education, I needed to read through not one, not two, not three, but...FOURTEEN books. As a reader, on the one hand, that was great. But as someone who had to read Dickens during my Level 1 studies last year, I also know that some of these pieces were likely to be something I didn't enjoy and would be going on an out/charity shop pile. So I'm deciding to make use of them outside my education and post my opinions on these fourteen books I had to read through between October last and now.

Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray: This was easy to assess. I enjoyed it. I also enjoyed the greater academic insight given into this definitive piece of Gothic literature. I'd already read through the story via audiobook, so this was an easy yes in terms of keepers. I still think most people focus far too much on the sexual elements of the story, which if you actually read the darned book play third fiddle to other themes, but it's still interesting.

Zadie Smith, White Teeth: Our first dud destined for the out pile. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure this book has fans and it's interesting to look at how it's written. But it's also a prime example of a culture I wasn't part of, and I don't mean it's Muslim Indian and Jamaican diasporas (the former actually resonated with me a lot because Batley, where I grew up, had a Muslim Indian community dating back to the Partition). I mean how White Teeth treats subjects like suicidal depression, marital relationships, Islamic radicalisation, and cultural pressure to conform. It treats them all...as jokes, ala lowbrow 90s comedies. Seriously, the opening chapter plays a suicide attempt as a joke. The 'wit' in this book either hasn't aged well, or was always in poor taste. Also the ending... Very Dickensian in the worst way.

Sylvia Plath, Ariel: The Restored Edition: I'd never encountered this poet's work, and it's not for the faint of heart. Even untangling it from the context of Plath's own struggles and tragic death which followed hard upon completing this collection, these poems aren't for the faint of heart. Self-doubt, dark pasts, familial strife, all feature as themes here. This edition also comes with Plath's reproduced type-written versions of the poems, complete with amendments to the rhyme and metre. I'm stull not sure whether I'm keeping this one, but it...has something. Just not something I'd dive into for comfort reading.

Colston Whitehead, The Colossus of New York: Another one I'd never heard of, and one I'm definitely keeping. This exploration of New York City, dated to around the same time as White Teeth, explores not from the POV of a travelogue, but more akin to a bird's eye view. As if the city itself is guiding you. And in this case, the wit of the writing has aged pretty well, and the context is deliberately ambiguous enough that you can see more than just one demographic enjoying this. This book doesn't self-isolate through being of its time, it makes itself timeless. A keeper for sure.

Wordsworth and Coleridge, Lyrical Ballads: I'm gonna say it, Wordsworth is one of the most boring and uninspiring poets I've come across. There's only one of his poems in this absolute slog of a tome, 'Michael, A Pastoral Poem', that I think even vaguely enjoyable. The book as a whole is standard, droning, and if you know anything about real rural history insultingly patronising and romantic. And don't even get me started on Wordsworth's 'Introduction', which says with fifty words what could be said with ten. Coleridge's 'Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner' is its one redeeming property, and I don't need to keep one book for one poem. Out pile.

Anne-Marie Fyfe. No Far Shore: Described by Fyfe herself as a book of 'lyric essays', this is a strange little thing and not one I expected to enjoy as much as I did. Baring one poem about a dog trapped in a harbour, I found everything enjoyable, engaging, and entertaining. There's a distinct quality to this book that's difficult to quantify beyond; it's good. Being someone who lives near the coast myself, it resonated with me strongly, and how Fyfe incorporated poetic elements into her prose was something else. Keeping this.

Patricia Grace, Potiki: A story I didn't know I needed in my life. I've had some mild contact with Maori culture through pop culture influence, but this in-depth piece of work from someone within the Pākehā (colonial white-Maori) population was truly eye-opening. There's a fine dance along the line between low fantasy and social history, immersing you into the culture. It also has a strong anti-colonial message, and ultimately a hopeful message. A keeper for sure.

William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure: This doesn't need much space. It's just the notorious problem play in an academic edition with a massive introduction and footnotes galore. I enjoy Measure for Measure, and this book has good reference material for writing essays and similar, so keeping it.

Abdulrazak Gurnah, Gravel Heart: Again not an author I'd encountered, and once again I was impressed. It's not a read I'll go back to in a hurry, because oh boy is it a hard read. If White Teeth is the over-optimistic and jokey view of the immigrant experience, Gravel Heart is a more realistic and occasionally cynical one. The main draw for me was its examination of a broken family, familial expectations and abuse, and the outsider finding something of value in a place they're othered in. Keeping it, but not re-reading for a while.

George Orwell, Essays: You can really tell a lot about Orwell as a person from this collection of his essays. From his anti-colonial stance to the complete lack of faith or belief in any kind of governance, to the remnants of Imperialism that colour how he sees and talks about non-English groups. Many of these essays are also quite funny to read through, and led me on a bit of a rabbit hold about his life. So, yeah, keeping.

Thomas More, Utopia: This book...is such a waste of space in my shelves. I didn't connect with it. I got it a bit more after having gone through the first half of the book, not just the second fictive half as most seem to. But still, it feels more like something for academia than pleasure reading. Interesting to see how the concept of 'utopia' emerged and how different it is for a Tudor man compared to today, but... Yeah, out pile.

Mary Elizabeth Braddon, Lady Audley's Secret: A crown jewel of sensation fiction, and one of the best books from the Victorian period I've ever read. The writing is so good, sparkling even, and the story kept me hooked even when it strayed into the stereotypes of its day. Braddon has crafted one of the great anti-heroines, and her writing has aged magnificently compared to others of her day, or even most others that came decades later. Keeper. I also got her Aurora Floyd for good measure.

Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden: This is a good piece of writing, no question. A classic, indeed. And I'm keeping it. But... Some parts of how the story changes during its second half really don't sit well with me. I came to this after having watched in my youth the 1993 film version, and there's a shocking amount of context they add without actually changing the narrative. They also keep Mary Lennox as the focal character, while the book basically boots her into the chorus in favour of REAL PROTAGONIST COLIN NO FOR REAL HE IS THE MOST IMPORTANT CHARACTER IN THE BOOK FOR REAL WAIT COME BACK HE'S REALLY IMPORTANT. Can you tell I don't like this shift?

Isabel Allende, The Stories of Eva Luna: My very first exposure to South American literature, and also my first dip into what has been called 'fantasy realism'. And I couldn't have struck a better first time. Written in a Scheherazade-style narrative of loosely-connected short stories, this book hooked me hard and wouldn't let go. I was lost in its stories of love, connection, innocence, and the subtle magic of reality. A keeper for sure.

And that's it. Fourteen books, fourteen opinions, and only three definitively going on the out pile. Quite an achievement. Here's to reading for pleasure and for learning, and to not hating books after needing to study them.