Recently, I took part in a small workshop on characterisation. We were working in pairs, and the task was to introduce our characters and for the other person to come up with a one sentence description containing a marker. My partner was a lady fifty-ish years older than me, a lady who I’ve known for a long time and who I have a great admiration and respect for. My character was a thirty year old lesbian who has been with her partner for six years. One of the main points of the story is that my main character cooks wonderful, healthy food that her partner doesn’t eat. When it came to talking about the relationship side of my character, I made her straight. And felt immediately guilty. I felt guilty in the same way I do when someone asks if I have a boyfriend and I simply reply ‘no’ rather than ‘I have a girlfriend’. I felt like I had utterly sold my character, and myself, out. Or rather, in. In my writing life, I make no secret of being gay. I do not change pronouns in my poems or write straight sex scenes. I don’t do these things because I believe in writing what you know, at least to the extent of writing something with which you have a genuine affinity. So why, at the crucial moment, did I switch my character’s sexuality? And, more importantly, does it matter?
Well, yes. It does matter. It matters to me. It matters to me because such a large chunk of my romance writing strives to change the representation of lesbian relationships. There isn’t always melodrama – at least no more than our heterosexual counterparts. There doesn’t always have to be a traumatic coming out scene and yes, despite almost every other representation out there, long term lezzies can be faithful. In this story, it is the apparent perfection of my character’s relationship that causes a pivotal change, a change that perhaps, not definitely, but perhaps, would be very different if she was married to a man.
As for why I sold her out, that is probably easier to answer. I did it because, in a room full of people where I knew we would be reading our work aloud, I was suddenly acutely aware that I would be announcing my own sexuality. Not that it is a secret. I am sure several people in my group are aware of it. But, at that precise moment, saying to a seventy old woman who I have come to view almost as my own grandmother ‘I write lesbian characters because I’m gay’ seemed like too tall an order for a Monday night. The irony of this? My actual grandmother would have loved my fiery, sexy, all loving dyke storylines, if only because they came from me.
I can’t change this situation now, and I can’t say it’s one that will cause me endless sleepless nights. But, the next time I am in the same situation, I will preserve my character’s integrity, even if it does shine the spotlight on my private life.
Betraying your characters.
