My scheduled post for yesterday has disappeared into the ether. I’m not going to have time to find it until tonight!
At this point, I’m just working on revising short stories for the Patreon project. It’s neither fun nor exciting, I’m afraid, but very much a necessary part of the writer life.
I’ve been thinking a lot about making maps lately, probably since I’m creating a map for a “new” secondary-world fantasy project. I really enjoy making maps, possibly to an unhealthy degree. I love everything from researching Earth geography to give myself ideas, to the process of penciling lines and features, to shading the final version in the colors that will later remind me what topography is where.
I have some idea of what a map is going to look like before I start drawing, but I also discover things about the setting as I’m going along. Every line I draw on paper comes with several whys: why is this border there, where was it before, who decided that this was the border. I think about the human geography while looking over the borders and topography. I think about where the borders might shift as the setting changes.
This is all super fun and exciting for me. But apparently it isn’t for everyone, because I know some people who don’t make maps. That these people exist blows my mind. I know that words are our art as writers, but how can you visualize more effectively than having a visual?
It’s a rhetorical question. I don’t want to know the answer. I love making maps so much that if an alternative exists, I don’t even want to know about it.
I’ve finished four stories of the initial five that I want to have set up as my buffer for my Patreon project. Then I need to revise these stories until they shine, and do some research on Patreon in general, and I’ll be ready to launch. To reiterate, this is the short story project cataloguing the rise, misuse, and fall of a magic system in a secondary-world fantasy setting.
Cue (more) heavy breathing.
This entire thing is making me apprehensive, much more so than my usual querying apprehension. I think it’s because it’s such an unknown. I have to keep reminding myself that this is an experiment, and it’s okay if it doesn’t work out, even if I’m not entirely sure what ‘working out’ looks like.
Since I’ve made progress to the point where I feel like I should be setting a deadline to be done with editing and so on, my personal, non-binding goal to launch is April 1.
This is not an article on how to”write the other” (a phrase that’s a short trip down a depression slope for me as a queer woman). This is about the importance, as a white writer, of trying to do as little harm as possible while writing people of other colors and cultures.
It’s more or less a direct response to V. Roth’s recent whitesplain about how she didn’t intend Carve the Mark to be racist. Intent doesn’t matter: I don’t have to intend to harm to do harm. And a lack of intent doesn’t excuse the harm that is done.
So. Writing while white.
To write while white means we are going to screw things up. Privilege blinders are a very real thing, and we’ve already hurt people enough with our history of colonialism, enslavement, past and present racism, and so on. Fantasy settings aren’t exempt from ways we can do further harm. We take our biases in with us, we take them out of the story with us, and harmful rep is just as harmful in speculative fiction as anywhere else. Fiction is not a license to reinforce harmful stereotypes.
Fiction writers still need to educate ourselves about harmful tropes so that we can avoid them. We need to listen when people tell us what we’re doing wrong and, if they’re feeling charitable, how it’s harmful. We need to educate ourselves to avoid mistakes others have repeatedly made.
As hard as we try, we’re going to screw up. We are going to do unintentional harm. But that’s not an excuse to not try. If anything, it means we need to try HARDER.
I’m not going to make a list of tropes to avoid simply because I’m not an authority on this topic. You’re better off getting those lists from black people, brown people, First Nations people, and other people who have a wealth of lived experience that I don’t. The way to do this is to read their writing on the topic, learn from them, and accept that when someone says “this is harmful,” it is, so try to avoid it.
And none of this is an excuse to avoid writing diverse characters. I have a whole continent in the Tattoo Magic Universe. Parts of it are near the equator, parts are near one of the poles, so it’s just not going to be racially homogenous. Therefore, I need to teach myself, try to do the least possible amount of harm, listen to criticism, apologize when I screw up, and do better. If all white writers listened more and tried harder, the world would be a better place.
(PS: My goal in writing characters of color isn’t to give people of color representation–they do a fantastic job of this without my help.)
I’ve become very intimately familiar with one moment in the query/rejection cycle. It’s the moment where I see that I have a response to my query and try not to get excited when I open it, or crushed when I see that it’s a rejection.
I can describe it pretty faithfully at this point. There is an initial surge of adrenaline, followed by the faint disappointment and relief that this time it seems to hurt less, like I’ve actually gotten inured to this over the course of however many scores of these I’ve gone through. But then about a second later, my skin starts to tingle. And I have dread at that point, not because anything is wrong yet, but because I know it will be. About five seconds later, depression will punch me in the stomach so hard that I’ll probably be nauseated for the rest of the night.
And then it’s time to deal with it. It’s actually a lot like dealing with period pain: yes, it really hurts quite a lot, and I have to just acknowledge that and keep breathing and walk through it.
I never talk about this as it’s happening. No one ever just says, “Wow, that really sucks, want a hug?” There is always some sort of positive-sounding platitude to try to console me with. See examples. But I’m not ready for positive thinking yet. It actively makes me angry. So I’ve learned to do this on my own.
Tomorrow, I’ll pick myself up, dust myself off, and keep going. But today, I just need a few moment to feel how badly this sucks.
Thanks to a writer-friend inviting me to write once a week at a coffee shop, and another writer-friend having a February writing sprint, I’m now done with three short-story rough drafts for the Tattoo Magic Patreon project. Whee!
When I’m describing what I write, I prefer to say that I write speculative fiction with LGBTQ+ characters. There is at least one queer character in everything I write (including my short fiction–check your perceived defaults, people), but the story does not focus on the character’s queerness. I do not write queer romance, coming out stories, internal discovery stories, or transition stories, though my stories may involve those things.
I write horror stories, or fantasy stories, or science fiction stories, where the characters just happen to be queer. And as with any writing, who the characters are informs the fiction. But the stories are not about the fact that they are queer. We’re just people navigating life like anyone else. And so are my characters.
This distinction is very important to me.
I’m currently embroiled in a writing sprint, which is exactly where I need to be in terms of getting stuff ready for my Tattoo Magic Universe project. I’m mostly working on rough-drafting the first few stories, so that I can revise those and get going on the project. I’m torn between being anxious that it won’t be successful and having no idea how to define to myself what successful will look like.
It’s just something I want to do to show myself that I can do it: my little adventure into self-pub. But I want to make money on it to validate to myself that my art has value. And then I want to give some of that money to other queer artists because we need all the support we can get right now.
So far, I’ve modified one entire story to fit into the universe. It always wanted to be in the universe, but it lacked that little extra kick of connection. I’ve moved two stories over (both of which were already set in this setting, but before I had a firm idea of what the setting really WAS), and I’m about 2/3 through drafting the first or second story.
I figure when I have the first four or five stories in the arc good to go, it will be time to actually seriously start that Patreon thing. That would give me four or five months of buffer, which should be good enough to keep the project going even if I don’t have everything drafted out in advance.
I’m also looking at revamping my website and turning it into more of an author website with a blog than a blog about writing. I might do that today or Sunday, or I might push it back until next week. Stay tuned!
There was a kerfuffle in the queer YA writer Twitterverse a short while back about some service that was offering a sensitivity beta reader service who was paying the actual readers some ridiculously low percentage of the fee they were proposing to charge the authors. I’m glad that sensitivity beta readers are becoming more widely utilized, but this just illustrates that where there is a need, there are people who will want to profit off the backs of marginalized people.
When I hired a sensitivity beta reader for Surviving the Plague for feedback on my biracial character, I paid about $80, which was less than I thought the reader deserved but literally all I could afford at that time. For Flight (when I get the revisions done… when I get the revisions started…) I have someone lined up for $200, which makes me feel a little better about myself as a human being. Ideally, I’d have more than one, but since I’m not making money at writing yet I just can’t afford to.
I know a lot of us who aren’t actually making money at this yet don’t really feel like we can afford sinking ANY money into people to read for us. But from the other side, a lot of us who are trying to write for a living are trying to pull in money in whatever way we can. And when you’re looking for someone to give you honest feedback based on their lived experiences, to point out your bias, when they do not know you, not only paying them to educate you, you’re paying for their bravery while doing so. It’s a tiny bonus that you’re supporting other marginalized writers trying to make a living.
So if you are looking for a sensitivity beta reader, I’d strongly encourage not cheaping out on this. Pay someone directly. A lot of writers have blogs where they advertise additional services. Or at the very least, go through a reputable connections site. Justina Ireland over at Write In The Margins has a sensitivity reader database that is legitimate.