People write for many different reasons. Some just
plain love it. Others are addicted to the feeling of having someone say that
they did well. Still others simply have something to say. Why do I write? I
love it…I always have. But I didn’t always have the courage to pursue what I
loved. So how did I find it?
I openly admit that I used to look at Buffy: The
Vampire Slayer and the start of the Willow/Tara arc intrigued me. It’s
strange how the series wasn’t renewed down here after that, but let me stop
lest I be accused of being a conspiracy theorist. Suffice to say that I was
forced to look towards the internet for my witchy lesbian fix. It amazed me
that a same sex relationship was being treated in such a nonchalant manner
in a mainstream television show when most of the others were afraid to rely
on more than just subtext (can you say Xena?). My explorations were the
beginning of my love affair with fan fiction, and the springboard into the
world of lesbian literature…and what a world it was.
Admittedly, I had lived a very sheltered life.
Relationships between two women were not only not discussed, they were as
taboo as to be treated as non-existent. By the time I had realized my
particular persuasions at age 16 there were no resources to speak of, so I
remained convinced that I was an aberration amongst the general population.
It took something as seemingly trivial as fan fiction to show me otherwise,
because these stories didn’t write themselves. They were written by women
just like myself, and given the sheer volume of work out there, there were a
lot of women like myself. I even tried my hand at a short Willow/Tara piece,
which I’m sure is still floating around somewhere (but I’m not going to tell
you where). It was the first thing I’d ever written, besides poetry of
course.
Gradually I drifted towards original fiction, and it
held a little more of a draw to me. Fan fiction is fine, but you’re already
given characters and a storyline to fiddle with. These women were creating
people and scenes seemingly from thin air, and some fell flat on their faces
while others excelled. It amazed me that some of the stories I read were ten
times better than most of the non-lesbian novels I had in my ever growing
collection. I won’t go into a tirade about the unfairness of it all,
especially since publishing houses like Bold Strokes Books are trying to
change that. Suffice to say that I was impressed…especially when I
discovered Radclyffe’s work. Yes, I know you’ve heard me go on and on about
Love’s Melody Lost before, but this is different.
Up to that point my favourite writers were almost
like mythical creatures. I knew that they existed somewhere, in a world so
much different than mine. They were so high on my pedestal that they had
almost overcome humanity and I couldn’t even hope to reach them, much less
be like them. That all changed with Radclyffe, and that one novel which
moved me enough to send her an email saying as much. Now I’m not some
teenaged groupie with a celebrity fetish. I had never contacted a writer
before, and never have since. I just wanted her to know how in love I was
with her writing…and she wrote back. To me that was the most amazing thing
in the world. It made them all seem human. They were people who weren’t
afraid to put their ideas to paper simply because it had to be told…people
that I wanted to be like. That one email inspired me to think that maybe I
could be.
Don’t get me wrong. I am nowhere near being a writer
of that caliber. I can hope to be one day and who knows? Maybe I will be.
The point is that I was motivated to take that first tentative step. That’s
where The Story Of Us came from…an idea that I couldn’t quite convince
myself I was good enough to express. Based on the feedback, apparently I
was, and that was the beginning. That was all I needed to find the courage
to follow the calling that I had been ignoring all along. Now, while I
continue to write for my fans, I recognize that there will always be people
you can’t please. Now I write for myself because it is something that I
enjoy doing, and I write for those who enjoy reading what I have to say (all
four or five of you). I don’t see myself stopping anytime soon…or ever. Not
as long as there are ideas which demand to be written. In fact, I think I’m
getting one right now.