fear
My beloved beta (more like alpha) reader asked me if my new gay romance manuscript has some polarizing political views/undertones that might make it uncomfortable for some readers.
My answer was an immediate yes, but I don’t mean it as an offensive or “in your face” yes.
My thoughts on it are more nuanced, and I’m not sure I can convey them in a blog post since it usually takes me the space of an entire book to explore a topic. For example, it took me the entire book of The Stars in the Sky to say what I wanted to about politics. (Compare: my fundamental beliefs about human rights (“liberal”) with the fact that I wrote the sexiest Republican cowboy hero ever.)
Still, I’ve written a new story where my very kind and generous and polite rock star hero wears dresses sometimes. He won’t define—even to me—what his sexuality is. I genuinely don’t know. And his ambiguities could be uncomfortable for some readers. (There’s more to it, but this is one part that’s definitely not standard romance fare.)
But I think that’s the interesting part. To delve into the feelings of why as a society is it uncomfortable for him to dress this way. Why don’t we like his resistance to saying he’s gay/bi/pan/demi/gray/ace/aro/whatever?
Still, though, while we’re in an increasingly tolerant society (and yes, I know there’s lots and lots of room to improve, but it’s better than when I was a kid), my rock star is turning that acceptance on its head. His free-thinking challenges me. (Us?)
And I guess that’s the point of the story.
The other hero is easier—a cute, preppy dude who wears bow ties. He fits in to an established label—gay—and he tries to behave in a way we “should.”
The rock star, not so much.
But I guess you can read it and decide for yourself if I have a point or if I’m an asshole.
The point of this blog post, though, is about my own fears.
Like I told my beloved reader, I’m scared of the fact that I am writing a book that is going to be uncomfortable for some.
But here’s the thing: I’ve been scared to publish every single one of my books.
Did I portray depression and sexual awakening right in The Sun and the Moon? What about the military in Sol? OMG how many explicit sex scenes have I written that I have my real name on? What about my portrayal of race in Lumbersexual or All the Water of the Earth or The Ground Beneath Our Feet?
And I come around to this simple truth: if I’m not scared of publishing, I haven’t pushed myself far enough to say something worth saying.
Every once in a while, I get this daydream of being able to crank out a genre romance that’s more superficial. (And I devour easy reads, so this is no knock.) But while I could perhaps physically do it, I don’t have the artistic will to. Retreading over territory that’s been done before just isn’t interesting enough to me.
So, am I scared?
Terrified.
Am I going forward anyway?
Yes.
Because I have something to say. And it takes a book to say it.