I’ve kind of come up against a realization, and one that will undoubtedly affect my future.
I’m a queer writer.
No, I don’t mean that I am queer and a writer (though I am that). I mean I write queer. All my best stuff has elements of non-normative sexuality/gender in it, even if only in my head. On the one hand, okay; maybe I’ve found my niche and should nurture my skills in that direction. But on the other hand, will doing that restrict my growth as a writer?
Lest you think I’ve never dabbled in the mainstream, let me state that I have written stories that were focussed on heterosexual characters. The problem with those was that, well . . . they were dark. Twisted. Perverse, even. Those were stories that would be best characterized as horror. All my happy endings are gay. (And oh, the irony. It burns.)
I’m not completely sure how I feel about this. On the one hand, I know what I’m good at. On the other hand, though . . . I worry that the market is too small, that I won’t be good enough to break in, that I won’t be able to make a living off that. I worry that this means I’m a crap writer. I worry that all the worrying makes me insane.
At the end of the day, though . . . I just really, really love to write. It is quite a lot of work, and it isn’t easy to hear where I’ve missed the mark, or that something I think is wonderful is actually . . . not. But I hope that I am, in fact, getting better at it as time goes on and I keep writing, because I don’t think that I’m ever going to be able to stop.
I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.