Recently, I posted about why I was leaving the book reviewing system. I didn’t go too deep into some of the more controversial aspects of my thought process, in part because it was important to me not to hurt good people I’ve come to know and care about over the years. I’m not exactly breaking my silence on that, but some of it is important to what I’m about to say regarding my own writing.
I never set out to be a career author. I love that my words are out there, that I have publishers who have taken their chances with me, and that I can keep doing this. But for me, writing was never about being able to have a sustainable income.
When I was a teenager, my grandfather semi-retired. He’d made his living as an artist, specifically in ceramics. Perhaps I’m a little biased when I say this, but I don’t think so: He was extraordinarily talented. He won awards, and a couple of his pieces are somewhere in the Smithsonian’s collection. After his death, his work sold for multiple times its original worth. When it crops up on reseller sites, it’s always tagged as a genuine one of his pieces.
There are probably people reading this who think that sounds fabulous, making a living from creative work and having the kind of success my grandfather did. If they can make it work, more power to them! In all honesty, I never asked my grandfather if he loved his work that much and if he was happy that’s what he’d been able to do for most of his life.
It would never make me happy.
I had the impression (and one of my relatives can correct me if I’m wrong) that his semi-retirement was mainly about leaving the business of pottery-making behind. He spent many years after that making mosaics until he finally retired for good. He seemed far more relaxed and content. I watched him many times in his shop, listening to him whistle along with the arias on his stereo as he glued the tiny ceramic shards into perfect place.
While I’m not an artist of my grandfather’s caliber, I have been writing since I was a child. Short stories, fan fiction (though I didn’t know that’s what it was called), poetry (it was terrible, but I didn’t care). In high school, I took a creative writing class and learned how to write persuasive essays and satire. In college, I wrote for the student newspaper. Before I began publishing fiction, I kept a blog on a range of topics, from adventures in parenting to critiquing the church’s position on various issues. I had an opinion piece published in The Advocate once and another in LGBTQNation. I’ve even dabbled in publicly posting fan fiction (no possible way am I linking it here, but if you absolutely must see it…nope).
Writing, for me, has never been about earning a living. When I switched from blogging to novelling, I wasn’t looking to make money. This may sound ridiculous, but I wanted to change the world. Okay, maybe not the whole world, but perhaps a few people’s minds. I wanted to infuse my work with the same sorts of social justice messages I’d been putting into my blog. Lofty goals, I know, but it’s where my heart was (and is, if I’m truthful).
Growing up, books were not, for me, mainly an escape. The greatest gift my family gave me was handing me books they loved and saying, “Read it, and then we’ll talk.” (I still do this with my kids.) Books weren’t a doorway to other worlds; they were a mirror of our own.
In the same way, writing is not my way of providing an escape for myself or anyone else. It’s a reflection of the joy and pain of our lives, an outlet for things I can’t communicate in any other way. What I want, what I’ve always wanted, is for at least one other person to say, “You understood me, and I feel less alone.”
Writing for the purpose of earning a living doesn’t do this for me. It drains away my ability to listen. Personally, I found that reviewing books did the same thing. I was grinding out reviews, consuming books like a bag of chips rather than savoring them as a meal. And to be honest, a lot of those books were more like pottery vs. mosaics. Many were good, perhaps even the best examples of their type. But they were not the kind of art I was looking for.
A huge part of leaving behind book reviews had to do with my revulsion for turning art into a capitalist venture. I will always and forever side-eye folks with power and privilege who wish to build a career from exclusively making art about marginalized people whose identity they don’t share. Saying it’s because they need to keep a roof over their heads is not quite enough, since they could easily do so without using marginalized lives and bodies. But this is not something that is going away, and there is very little that I can do aside from yelling into the abyss. It’s far better for my well-being to distance myself rather than constantly smashing my head against a wall.
As for my own writing, I’ve never fit well into boxes, and I don’t want to. I will never be commercially appealing. Maybe that’s because I’m a terrible hack and readers are better off staying away, but I don’t think so. Instead of spinning my wheels trying for market appeal, I wish to return to the idealistic vision I had at the start. My desire is to change hearts and leave people feeling heard, whether it’s one or one thousand.
You see, writing burnout would be agony for me. I, like you, know I can never make a living with my writing, and that’s okay. I write first and foremost for myself, for my own sanity. The fact it gets published and I receive some recognition is gravy. If I couldn’t find a publisher, I’d probably self-publish knowing it wouldn’t make much. It’s about the process of creation and storytelling above everything else. Perhaps that is why I generally only do one-two books a year and not much else.
As for reviews, yeah, I’m not much into them anymore, because my tastes are so particular. I either love and consume a book or I walk away. There’s seldom any in between. That makes it hard for me to review books, and I’ve found that doing reviews can sometimes take the joy out of reading in general. I will do reviews at my sole discretion, but after finding a novel where the author’s “it has mild erotic content was my “OMG that’s gang rape!” I’m jaded and don’t want to read on anyone’s request unless it’s someone I really trust author-wise.
My writing art is like my other art (which I have yet to share online) — it’s something I do for me first and foremost. It brings me joy. It brings me peace. Getting it published is cool indeed, but I’m in no rush to push out what I consider sub-par material just so I can perhaps make a living at it. Some do well at a fast writing pace, but a lot of writers create formulaic garbage… I’d be the latter if I wrote fast than I do, and I’d be unhappy doing it as well, so I’ll stick with how I do things now. It makes me happy, and that’s what’s important.
Very much yes to not wanting to pump out junk in order to make a living. If I tried that, it would absolutely be garbage. I think some people do have a knack for it, but their books also read basically the same to me with names and minor details changed. I can’t write like that.
I also discovered that unless the prompt is pretty broad, I can’t write to those either. I need to be motivated by something I feel strongly about. I wrote Passing on Faith because I was a pissed off ex-evangelical. I wrote Anthem because I find the juxtaposition of homoerotic worship songs and homophobic preaching to be disturbing.
As much as I’ve been frustrated with pairings romance (MM, FF, etc.), I’m nearly as frustrated with the other side of queer lit—the “as queer as possible” folks who are more concerned with tallying up representation points than with creating authentic stories. I’m sorry that my life doesn’t “look queer” to casual observers, but I deserve stories where I can see myself too. I don’t always want to read about twentysomethings being “extremely queer,” whatever that even means. I suppose this is why Etain’s life resonates so much with me—she’s a mama, and her family is important to her, but she is her own person too. Those are the kinds of people I want to read about.
I look back now on some of the reviews I’ve done, and I wonder what I liked about some of those books. I got in a bit of hot water once for giving my honest opinion on a book I’d reviewed. The reviewer was irate and demanded the review be removed. After that, I was more cautious with stating my opinion freely. I know I hedged a bit with books people sent to me directly.
The irony of this post is that yesterday, I actually did accept two more books to review. However, they were ones I’d already planned to read, and both authors are people I highly respect and whose work I’ve loved for a long time.
You should do what’s comfortable to you above all else — that’s almost become my personal mantra.
And I’m glad you like Etain. I adore her for the same reasons. Queer enough/ queer as can be both frustrate the heck out of me. Apparently, there’s a secret queer-measuring stick. I’ve been told I can’t be queer because I have children. I’ve been told I’m not queer because I was once married to a man. My response both times has always been… is there a measuring stick? Is there a queer test I somehow failed?
Someone please show me the rule book so I can tear it apart.
If Etain sets people on edge with her not-queer-enough then Centenary Rhodes is gonna make heads spin. She’s Appalachian, queer, and a witch who embraces Appalachian granny magic traditions. She’s a mom too but in a past life, and is dealing with that child’s spirit, a half-magic, mentally-ill mother, a friend’s addiction, and a ticked off death elemental all at once.
What you like about my writing, is what I appreciate most about yours. Real characters living real lives. I can associate with them and might well consider some of them to be friends if they were real.
As for the current trends in LGBT writing… I sincerely hope they’re a growing pain.
Funny, I guess I always imagined that if my marriage appeared as two lesbians instead of a straight couple, I’d get less “you’re not queer enough.” But I keep hearing (mainly from women, and often from women over the age of 35) that they’re not considered “queer enough.” It makes me wonder what it’s being based on.
I cannot wait to read Cent’s story. I love that there’s so much rich cultural history there, and I get the feeling I’m going to like reading about Cent.
I’ve thought for a while that the current trends might be growing pains. On the other hand, a lot of the current trends were born out of fan fiction culture, so I’m not entirely sure they’re going away any time soon.
It sounds like you’re making the right decision. It’s much better to read and review books you have a genuine interest in. What you write in a review will be more genuine as a result.