"Am I Taking Up Space If I Write A Different Identity?"

Dear Milo, 

I’m a cis writer with a trans protagonist. I did a lot of work and research and reading to make sure it’s correct and not problematic and I have trans friends that say the book is well done. I’m also worried about getting published. Is it true that there is limited space for marginalized writers? Did I take a spot away from a trans writer if I get published?

Sincerely,

Trying to Be a Good Ally

Dear Trying to Be a Good Ally, 

I get this question a lot. I teach on writing outside of one’s lane, and there’s the concern that even with the best of due diligence—which it sounds like you’re doing, so thank you for that—there’s the risk that publishing the book could still cause harm. It could fill a coveted spot that otherwise would’ve gone to a writer of that identity.

How true is this? It’s something of a loud secret, and can vary greatly per publisher, but some publishers indeed are known for historically keeping limits on books by or about marginalized people, sometimes as few as only one or two spots for a given identity per publication year. Sometimes, those identities are lumped together into broad categories, such as BIPOC or LGBTQ+. That’s a lot of competition for such limited space.

I do believe things have improved in certain areas over time, though. I don’t know numbers, but based on observation, categories like YA and SFF seem particularly open these days to marginalized work. As in, there’s a notable amount of books written by marginalized authors, so it doesn’t appear that many publishers hold (restrictive) limits on marginalized subject matter. That’s awesome. 

But some other categories are still tougher, and some publishers may still hold limits. For example, literary historical fiction—meaning historical fiction that isn’t additionally part of the romance, speculative, or other genre categories—is still hard to break into. Hence my own ~700 rejections before I finally got a book deal.

It wasn’t every rejection, but it was certainly some, identifiable by coded language and phrases. But one time, a frighteningly small handful of years ago, a publisher said the quiet part loud. An editor was interested in a work of mine, read it through, brought it up with the board, and then responded to my agent with a long, flattering love letter…only to conclude with, “But we already have our trans book for the year.”

(Sidenote: While I’ve had some real doozies of rejection and this one certainly lands in my Top 5, it doesn’t take the #1 spot. But that’s a story for another day. Publishing while marginalized is wild, folks.)

While not limited to category—which makes the whole situation worse, not better—it didn’t help things that this other book was also historical fiction. About a trans man. Who had really existed in history.

And then it got worse. It turned out the other trans book was written by a cis woman. Who, upon publication, proceeded to misgender the real-life trans man. And dug her heels in and said inappropriate trans-based things to people who corrected her online.

That was the book that took the coveted trans spot with that publisher. That was the book that hip checked me out of line.

Not that I’m still bitter about it or anything.

The book failed to sell well, in part because of the bungling of both content and PR, but that was no cause for celebration to me. Besides the community harm already caused, with the trans book—their one trans book of the year—failing, I knew it likely perpetuated their self-fulfilling prophecy of having only one trans allowed book a year: that trans books in “normal” categories don’t sell. 

Which brings me to the thing none of us ever wants to hear: Yes, getting your “outside of your lane” book published may take the spot away from someone else. However, if there’s one thing I learned from my own experience, it’s this: If it’s unlikely a publisher is going to give the spot to someone of said identity, I’d much rather the spot at least go to someone who is mindful about the material rather than someone who isn’t. (When publishers have such boundaries in place as above, it’s unlikely if/when a cis writer steps away from an opportunity that the publisher will finally go for a trans writer. Rather, they’ll just pick out another cis writer.) I sincerely believe that appropriate, accurate representation helps open the door a little more for everyone else. By not pursuing publication of a book with appropriate, accurate representation, we risk that spot filling with a book that…doesn’t.

So can you pursue publication of a book outside of your lane? My short answer is yes. My long answer is BUT. This whole kerfuffle isn’t your fault, but it becomes your responsibility. Just like writing outside of your lane requires due diligence, so does publishing outside of your lane. There are several things I encourage all such writers do post-publication:

1. Tell your agent, editor, or publisher about unpublished novels that are written by the given identity. You may not have the power to make them represent or publish the book, but you’re still a published author with an opinion that they (hopefully) respect. Your endorsement will not only put the book on their radar, but will likely up the chance that they’ll at least give it some level of consideration. (Though make sure to pace yourself. If you’re throwing every marginalized book their way, they won’t take your recommendations as seriously.)
2. Use your social media platforms to boost the signal on books written by that identity. It can be as simple as a repost or a “I can’t wait to read it!” even if that’s not entirely true. Social media use, of course, only counts for folks who have and use social media. Don’t feel like you have to make a social media account just to do this. If you resent or are unhappy with using social media, that risks bleeding into your recommendations and causing the opposite of what you intended.
3. When on book tours or talks, recommend said books. The most common way is in response to the classic question of, “What are you reading right now?” If you’re reading various works at once, pick out the marginalized ones. If you’re not reading anything marginalized right now, lie. Or if that bucks against your ethics, rephrase it as, “I can’t wait to read blah blah book.” Just name something that you know is marginalized; bonus points if it’s from a smaller publisher or not getting much exposure. Fans read what their favorite writers are reading. Your opinion suddenly holds more substance than before you were published, so use it to pull up marginalized writers.
4. Also while on book tours or talks, consider having an author of the given identity interview you or be in conversation with you, pair up on some talks with them, and/or give them 5 minutes at the start of your talk to read from their own works. Sharing your platform is a great way of spreading the wealth. It’s also a great idea to build community with other writers, and this is an easy and effective way to do that.
5. If you’re asked to be on a panel—especially if it’s about your book’s marginalized topic or character—make sure at least one person of that identity (though large preference for majority) is also on the panel. I once went to a panel that was labeled as “LGBTQ+ Crime Fiction.” I hadn’t paid attention to the names of the authors included, but after about 10 minutes, I—and as it appeared to me, the panelists themselves—slowly realized that all six panelists were cishet and just happened to have written crime fiction with LGBTQ+ protagonists. Not a queer among them. I was displeased, to say the least, and I felt it made both the venue and the panelists look bad, even though the panelists themselves weren’t necessarily at fault.
6. If a venue organizing a panel doesn’t have anyone of the given identity, specifically suggest names and contact info. If the organizers refuse to add someone of that identity, don’t do the panel and tell them why. You don’t need to do some big, performative social media shaming or anything. Just tell them directly why you won’t do it and thank them for their time.
7. Relatedly, compile a list of authors you’d like to work with, have worked with, etc. Keep the list handy for event suggestions even when the topic isn’t directly related to a given marginalized identity. This will hopefully give more speaking opportunities to marginalized authors, which in turn will help boost exposure to their own book(s). 

Not only will steps such as these put you in a better position with given marginalized communities, it’ll also help encourage publishers to open up more publication spots for such writers. No one writer can change the publishing industry, but if many writers play a part, it could indeed make a difference. It may be slow going, but it’s still a difference.

Warmly,

Milo