I told Julia Kyle that I’d been reading a bunch of self-published and indie queer ebooks, most of which I didn’t dislike but did leave me in want of books about queer, trans and non-binary leads with mainstream-standard (good mainstream-standard, because we can all point to any number of awfully-written mainstream-published novels) copyediting and/or structural editing. I’m not even talking content, here (the amount of women, the handling of queer relationships, the fact non-binary people don’t exist, the way authors slept through Year 12 Biology because they don’t understand how a fever works, the repeated failure to write horses in anything approaching a correct fashion). I’m talking the nuts and bolts of sentence construction and ebook design. I’m talking the things I’d love to never see in a book, the things I’m editor enough that I can’t unsee or ignore, the fiction-writing basics that are in fact not-basic enough they slip past even attentive and edited self-published and indie writers.
Julia made the mistake of asking me if I’d write a post on these things: what to do, what not to do, how to avoid it.
I may have cackled. A lot. And responded with enthusiasm enough she quoted me on Tumblr. Someone wants me to talk about all the things running through my head every time I crack open a book? Someone has given me permission to get on my editorial high horse? Fuck and yes, mate.
Or: queer genre fiction that is not fantasy!
Can I just say thanks to whoever has been promoting my last rec post on Twitter? Someone’s responsible for a major boost in blog traffic. I hope my thoughts on queer genre fiction are useful to readers in want of good reads.
As you may know, I’m primarily – at least in long-form prose writing – a fantasy/spec fic writer. I’ll write all kinds of things in short form, as I hope Crooked Words attests to, and I have been accused by Ian Irvine Hobbson of writing grungy realist literature. (I know, right?) I’m giving feature-length contemporary screenplays a shot, but when it comes to long-form prose, I write fantasy, and I can’t see that changing. My literary references are all fantastic: I grew up on Narnia, was given The Lord of the Rings by my mother at fifteen (I own vintage 1970s Allen and Unwin editions of the trilogy and The Silmarillion, the latter of which I have read as many times as the former) and spent the next seven or eight years throwing myself headlong into anything speculative I could get my hands on. These days I read all sorts of things both from a need of representation and having refined my palate due to being quite widely read in the genre, which might explain the side trips into realist grunge, but I am always going to be coming back to fantasy as both a creative and a reader.
(Actually, I write grungy realist fantasy, too. When I say that I wrote my novel about leads with mental illness, I mean leads with mental illness and not the usual light touch that passes for it. Oscar, anyone?)
However, in the quest for representation, I will read anything, and this post is about the anything.
I’ve been commenting on a friend’s posts, and every time I comment I find myself in rec mode because I have read a lot and have all the opinions on the things I read.
Luckily for you, she’s sensible enough to tell me that I should create a post.
I want to begin this by saying that their presence on this list doesn’t mean these works are free of problematic material. Not all of the writing is awesome, many of these books are not particularly intersectional in terms of inclusiveness and there will be things I missed given my own sphere of privilege. These are just the best books I’ve read (and I haven’t read everything: there’s plenty of queer-inclusive fantasy on my to-buy list for when I start my job) in terms of queer characters.