sensitive

I’m thinking today about the word “sensitive,” likely because it came up yesterday in two different contexts.

Context One.

In writing my book, my very diligent editor flagged insensitive language—words like blind, dumb, idiot, stupid, freak, tribe. Words that I used to use routinely and now avoid. While I cuss quite a bit in my writing and the characters also have slurs slung at them by enemies, the book doesn’t have any language that one might find objectionable.

Or so I thought.

I’ll admit that my first reaction to removing lines like “I’m such an idiot” or “I’m freaking out” was resistance. The lines can be funny, punchy, to the point. They’re common. And, I thought, is someone really going to object to those words? The world is getting too sensitive.

But “idiot” has connotations of psychiatric illness and “freak” can refer to a circus freak, i.e. someone who is physically deformed or has an extraordinary medical condition. Those aren’t connotations I want associated with my work. I’m not going to make fun of the mentally ill or physically deformed. The point of sensitivity reading is to make sure the language doesn’t unintentionally do something it isn’t supposed to because of my cis White privileged background. I genuinely do not want to step into something I don’t mean.

Plus, English evolves and so do I. My editor was right that I want to be a leader and ahead of the game as far as language use. I can’t fix anything I’ve written before, but I can make sure new work is better.

So, I deleted insensitive language and substituted other words. An example: instead of saying, “don’t freak out about Jason” (or something similar) I changed it to “tamp down your Jason kink,” which is now one of my favorite lines in the whole book. By avoiding common but insensitive language, it forced me to be more creative and accurate. Win-win.

I’m very happy with the way the book turned out.

But then I read a review that objected to a line.

And it ruined my day.

(I’m exaggerating, but there were real tears from me, multiple times.)

The character’s line wasn’t intended to be taken literally. It was a flippant line from an imperfect character. A throwaway (like most insensitive language).

Fuck.

I can justify it all I want. But the bottom line is that the reader was sensitive to it, so despite all my efforts to take out insensitive language, I have a phrase that someone doesn’t like. Out of 87,000 words.

Context Two.

This bothered me.

For a variety of reasons.

First, I genuinely did not want to offend someone unintentionally. (This is separate from having a bully in a book call someone a bad name. I would hope that no one would think I approve of bullying for obvious reasons. Books just are better if there are villains in them.)

Second, I was annoyed because I thought I had fine-tooth combed the book specifically for sensitivity issues. (Or rather, had others do it, since I cannot see these things.) Thus, I also had that same original kneejerk reaction—that they were being too sensitive. Hadn’t I gone through this already?

That made me argue (to myself)—at what stage do we sanitize writing so much that it becomes bland? Plus, (more arguing…) the character is flawed. If he did everything perfectly, the book would be boring. And more justification: I ran it past a gay friend and he said he says it all the time, it’s completely acceptable, and that “no gay man” would object. Even so, do I apologize? If I apologize, does it mean I did something wrong? Is it wrong? I don’t think it is, but I don’t want to hurt someone … (And so on.) Blah, blah, blah, I can justify it all I want.

Third, though, the review bothered me because I am sensitive. I’m sensitive to what that reader was saying about my writing. I’ve written about this before, but I truly believe that readers have the right to their opinions and bad reviews help because they keep away people who feel the same way. But personally speaking, I can’t read them. (And incidentally, this wasn’t a bad review, just one phrase royally pissed off the reader.)

I’m the kind of person who will pull up some throwaway, thoughtless comment someone made YEARS ago, and have it still affect me. Couple that with being a people pleaser, and I can pretty much torture myself for the rest of my life. So, for self-preservation reasons I have to step back.

I could tell the part in the review from the reader objecting to my line was going to bother me—and it did. Probably for all of the above reasons: I want people to like me, I don’t want to hurt anyone, it was a joke (and I am not excusing jokes, because those can hurt the most), maybe we’re all too sensitive, maybe I’m too sensitive, maybe I should’ve taken it out, maybe I should fight for it because character flaws, maybe it’s not that serious/bad/objectively offensive, etc.

So, what is the solution here?

In the grand scheme of things, I think the throwaway line is either (1) not objectionable or (2) objectionable but from a flawed character. Yes, I realize that’s contradicting myself, but this is my blog and I can be inconsistent.

I guess what I mean is I hope most readers won’t be so sensitive that it will stop them from liking the book (if they like the sort of book I wrote). The phrase is mild. My character didn’t actually believe what he said. Perhaps the reader is just too sensitive. (As I am.) Perhaps the reader is allowed to be “too sensitive.” (As am I.) 

But if readers do find it objectionable, I hope they will take it with the spirit it was intended—a flawed character making a joke, and sometimes those jokes fall flat with some audiences. He made a mistake, and he actually got called on the carpet about it both from a friend and realizing it himself at the end of the book. So maybe it was a growth point for him. Maybe he needed to be imperfect so he could grow and learn.

Like me.

As far as the second issue, me being too sensitive, well … I’m not sure I can change that. I have thicker skin than I used to have and I also have protective mechanisms in place (I don’t usually read reviews unless people send them to me) that take care of my thin skin. I don’t also think necessarily that being sensitive is a bad thing. And like I said, I learned with this book on what to do the next time.

Bottom line: I’m not perfect, the book isn’t perfect, the character isn’t perfect. Even though those are presented as ideals, I suppose it’s much more interesting to not be.

And, if it does offend you, I’m sorry to have caused offense. It genuinely was not meant.