What we can all learn from RWA

As December was getting closer to Christmas I noticed something going on in Romance Writers of America. I watched on Twitter in horror as it got worse and worse as December dwindled into memory. I watched as many people I know resigned from that august organization in dismay.

I will not go into detail about RWA for two reasons. Chiefly, this is an RMFW blog. Out of professional courtesy, I will not comment directly on what’s going on over there. Also, I have never been a member of RWA, so anything I say about the specifics would be close to libel. If you must know, ask a friend in RMFW who is, or was a member. Either they will know, or they’ll know somebody who can show you the documents, accusations, and tweets. They are all out there.

What I do want to discuss is one of the issues that started the firestorm in RWA. From my point of view, (and I admit I could be wrong), much of what’s going on has to do with diversity in fiction and how we correct hate speech and prejudice in our writing.

There is a lot of tension right now on this subject. Marginalized groups feel like their voices are finally being heard. Many writers that identify as a marginalized person want to protect the small gains they’ve made and will fight fiercely to protect them.

To the rest of us, while we recognize the historical injustices of the publishing world to marginalized groups, we’re also frozen with fear. Afraid we’re going to ruin a chance for publication because a character in our story wasn’t presented correctly. Afraid that we used a slur in a story when we didn’t mean to. Afraid to even speak to people at conventions and critique groups for fear of offending someone.

While it may be hyperbole to say it is tearing the writing community apart, my fear is that it could.

In his book Mere Christianity, CS Lewis wrote about the responsibilities of the High Churchman and the Low Churchman. While the High Churchman loved the beauty and pageantry of an old Anglican service, the Low Churchman wanted the simplicity of a simple liturgy. He said it was the responsibility of the High Churchman to be more relaxed and informal in the presence of his brothers, while the Low Churchman should try to bring more solemnity to his public worship. Each group trying to make the other more comfortable, while standing in the other’s shoes, if only momentarily.

I wish we could follow Lewis’s advice.

If you find your manuscripts being attacked for a variety of reasons, the noblest thing you can do is listen. Listen with an open heart and mind. Try to understand where the other person is coming from. If you believe something else is going on, remember that the way they critique your writing says more about them than it does you.

Also, don’t feel like you have to die on the hill of authenticity. We’ve all heard the N word. We know that violence against women was, and is, still very common. We know the tortured history of the LGBTQ community and their struggles for civil rights. But do we need to see it in your manuscript?

I write historical fiction. My debut novel takes place in Elizabethan Ireland. A very violent time. In my novel there are only two instances of violence against women and one of them occurs on a battlefield. Both instances are essential to the plot and to the development of the characters who involved. I could have included more because it was historically accurate. I didn’t because it was not germane to the plot, the themes, or anything else in my story. Many women told me they loved my principal woman character because she showed agency, courage and determination. Yet it would have been easy to add colorful slurs, more violence and have her be a damsel in need of rescuing. Yes, it would be accurate, but needlessly traumatic.

Remember that fiction is entertainment. The people that you hope read your story have probably heard the slurs you’re using and experienced the things you’re describing. They probably don’t need gory details. Remember, the suggestion of a slur or violent act can be more powerful than its observation.

For those of us trying to make fiction more inclusive and respectful of marginalized groups, I want to let you know that I hear you. I understand your passions. But please remember a couple of things.

First of all, the hard work you are doing will not be completed in a day. The writing community in Colorado is large. Just because your group of friends know why certain terms and certain actions in fiction should be avoided, does not mean everybody does. Be patient.

Second, the wonderful thing about anger is that it makes you feel empowered. The problem is that the people you want to change will only shut down at your anger. Explain. Try to reach a bridge of understanding. Don’t let go of your principles, but remember many of the people you want to reach are using these terms and writing these scenes out of ignorance. Teach them to be better. Be kind.

Finally, we are coming to the reality that privilege is not binary. It is a constantly moving blur. If you are Queer and White, realize that you while you are a member of a marginalized group your whiteness gives you privilege. I am African-American and I am cis-male. No one would argue that I am not in a marginalized group. Yet it would be silly of me not to admit I have privilege because of my gender. When we reach out to one another, meet at a conference or a book signing, remember that we all see the world, and are viewed by others, through multiple lenses. Listen to each other and maybe you’ll learn something new about another writer and yourself. Be wise.