So tonight, as usual, I checked Twitter as I metro’d home from work. To my astonishment the big topic was queer YA.* This seems to happen, oh, once a year, so predictably, I got all excited, even though the initial story that kicked this off is not so much positive.
The backstory:
Two authors wrote a post on a Publishers Weekly blog about their experience shopping a YA SFF that featured five narrators, one of whom was queer and engaged in a same-sex romance. Although they got agent interest, there were also requests to change the queer character, and one agent offered representation on the condition that they make the character straight. They refused, and the novel is still unrepresented.
So, that’s nice and depressing. But on the upside, people started tweeting with the hashtag #YesGayYA, and all of those tweets were, obviously, pro-queerness.
My story:
I write exclusively queer YA. All my protagonists are queer, and usually most of the other major characters in my stories are queer, too. And I always have a strong central romance involving my queer protagonists.
I have a fantastic and extremely queer-supportive agent now, after a hunt that involved two manuscripts and more than 70 rejections. I’m working on my third queer YA novel now and eagerly awaiting my first sale.
None of the agents I queried ever asked me to change any character’s sexual orientation or gender identity. Nor did any of them ever say anything that hinted they were rejecting it based on the characters’ / books’ queerness.
But that doesn’t mean they weren’t.
This stuff is usually invisible, is the thing. It was really overt in the experience described in the PW post. But 99.9% of the time, I’m willing to bet, this stuff happens off the record, behind the scenes, entirely inside the heads of the various gatekeepers who control this industry.
Which is why it’s so hard to figure out how often this really happens.
Unlike with many genre authors, or authors of books with queer secondary characters only, there’s no logical reason anyone would ask me to de-queer a character. If I took the queerness out of my books, there’d be pretty much nothing left. It’s a lot easier to just send me a form rejection than to say “I can’t sell a YA book about a bunch of lesbos, sorry.”
On the other hand, there were plenty of other reasons for agents to have turned down my bunch-of-lesbos manuscript. I know, because I got personal rejections too. Rejections that pointed out flaws in the tone, the pacing, etc. — legit stuff that has nothing to do with the girl/girl makeout scene in chapter 12.
That’s why this stuff is so hard to talk about. It’s why, as the PW post points out, people are hesitant to speak out when it happens to them. It’s so hard to be sure when it’s really happening. There are always a bunch of other factors, and no one ever wants to accuse anyone of homophobia, or racism, or misogyny, or anything else, unless they are absolutely 100% sure. And even then, really, because all authors are so freaking paranoid (and with reason) about being blacklisted by the people who have the power in this industry (even though no one seems to be sure exactly who those people are).
There has been a rush today of editors, agents, etc., saying “We want queer YA! Send it to us, please! We are not like those other people!”
And I have no doubt everyone saying that means it, completely and unequivocally. But, as author Scott Tracey pointed out in his post on this, “That’s not exactly the same thing as putting out that content.”
My next book will be my first foray into genre, a ghost story. It’ll be my first book in which the character’s sexual orientations and gender identities aren’t intrinsic to the central plot. It’ll be the first time I’ll be in a position where an editor could ask me to de-queer the story. I’ve always had faith that no one will, but I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have that faith. Just because I don’t hear about that happening much doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen, as today’s threads have proved.
And yes, sometimes when I get frustrated with this industry, sometimes when I read the daily sales lists on PM and wonder when mine will be there — sometimes I think, “This would be so much easier if I’d only start writing about straight people.”
But then I remember I don’t want to. No offense to my straight friends, of which I have many,
but I just don’t think straight people are anywhere near as interesting as the rest of us. (Sorry! I still like you guys, I swear!)
I hope stories like today’s don’t scare other prospective authors of YA books with queer characters away. That’s always my first thought when this comes up, and why I tend to downplay it. After today, though, I don’t think I will. The code of silence around this issue has lasted long enough.
So if this does ever happen to me, will I come forward and say so? I’d love to pledge to do so here and now, but… well. I’m still just as paranoid as everybody else.
I’ll try, though, I’ll pledge that much.
By the way, lots of people have said lots of really fantastic stuff on this topic so far, most of them far better than I, so I’ll close this post by quoting some of my favorites.
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