Please welcome our second July guest, Ken Scholes! A prolific author of both short fiction and novels, Ken is currently hard at work writing Requiem, the fourth book in his fantastic Psalms of Isaak series. For a full biography, visit kenscholes.com or check him out on facebook.
I was very flattered when Kim asked me to write a guest post
here but if I’m completely honest, I was more than a little nervous…and I still
am. Because in talking about possible topics,
one that she suggested – the one I’ve ultimately chosen to tackle – centered
around how I write such great, strong female characters.
The truth is, I’m not convinced that I do. I’ve had some feedback that says I am getting
a lot of it right but I’ve also had feedback that suggests I’m getting it
wrong. And I suspect that as with many
things in life-- maybe even most things--
it’s not an “either/or” equation, but a “both/and.” I’m getting it both wrong and right at the
same time.
Add to that truth that this is a topic that quickly reduces
down to online “fail” wars that I’ve seen brutalize well-intentioned friends
who are trying to navigate this important aspect of writing. As writers we’re frequently told to “write
what we know” and this is largely sound advice…except that we really can’t just
stay in that end of the pool if we want to write engaging fiction. I surely tried to.
So today’s post is going to be light on advice when it comes
to the nuts and bolts…and heavier on issues of intent and awareness in my own
personal journey into the territory of this topic.
But first, a bit about me because I think our own context is
important when it comes to writing characters – and their own contexts -- that
are different from us. I am a forty-four
year old American male. My heritage is
Scotch, Irish, English and Dutch. I am
tall and plus-sized. I largely grew up
in a rural environment – a small logging town at the foot of Mount
Rainier. I think there were maybe four
people of color, total, in my entire middle and high school experience. I was unaware of anyone in my school who was
gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender or queer.
The only religious practices largely observed in my community were
varieties of Christianity with a lot of Mormon, Catholic and Evangelical
representation (a lot by Pacific Northwest standards). I was only aware of one agnostic in my
youth. I grew up poor in a family
riddled with abuse and neglect between a Borderline mother and an alcoholic
stepfather. There is so much more that I
could include here, but the point I’m trying to make is that with a context
like that the cards were largely stacked against me becoming who I am
today. And within that context, there
was inherent privilege by nature of where I was born and the people who I was
born to, biases instilled into me, lenses colored by upbringing, culture and
experience that I wouldn’t even begin to plumb the depths of until later in my
life.
It took a long time for me to recognize just how much things
like privilege and bias impacted me. And
even longer when it came to understanding that as a writer, I had the
opportunity not just to entertain but also to gently influence my culture in
the direction of evolving. Until I
reached that place, I played it as safe as I could. In all of the short stories I wrote between
1997 and 2006, I attempted to write one African American protagonist and three
female protagonists. I say attempted
because I honestly think that for me, given my background, I can’t afford to
believe I’m getting it right. Instead, I
wrote mostly white male characters working through their redemption from
apocalypse, fundamentalism, catastrophe and small-mindedness. I wrote what I knew.
And then the dare showed up.
Jay Lake and my wife Jen dared me to write my first novel – an expansion
of two short stories I’d set in what I was calling my Androfrancine Cycle. And so I set out to do so. And halfway into the book, my wife gently
pointed out to me that the only female character with any kind of intent or agency
was Jin Li Tam. I had slipped into
writing what I knew again – reproducing the same issues that existed in much of
the fiction I cut my teeth on as a kid.
So with her loving encouragement – not her criticism -- I added a few
more female characters to the book.
Thirteen months after the dare, Lamentation
was picked up by Tor – along with the four unwritten volumes in the Psalms of Isaak, and by then, I was
halfway into drafting Canticle and
adding more diversity here and there with a great deal of fear and
trembling. Then, in Antiphon, I realized instinctively that one of my favorite
supporting characters from Canticle
was gay and in a relationship with another supporting character. It spontaneously flowed out of me in a scene
where, after being separated for a long while and in great danger, they rush
into each other’s arms to kiss. Those
characters will continue to grow as I finish the series (just like the author
will continue to grow). And I intend to
flesh that out further in other stories coming down the road with these two,
including telling the story of how they met and fell in love in the Churning
Waste. Who knows what I’ll tackle in my
next projects….
I know this is a lot of context. But I think when it comes to writing the
other, we have to understand our own context…and be honest about it and the
limitations it can present. My context
reminds me to pay attention. I was
raised with some pretty backward and terrible beliefs about a lot of others in
our world. I can’t afford to not keep
that in mind as I try to write the other.
It is also good, at least for me, to keep in mind that this is a journey
as I learn to turn over the rocks within myself to put light on the creepy,
crawly things I find hidden there.
Ideally, it’s an upward spiral as my mind opens up to see as far beyond
my prejudices and privileges as they can see.
For me, it is also important to use as much empathy as
possible in considering the other that I write.
To really try considering life in their shoes. It’s hard to achieve anything close to empathy
without actually investing myself into the other I want to write. So I think a lot and I ask a lot of questions. I actively work at meeting and befriending a
wide, diverse group of friends and acquaintances. Writing the other is a lot more likely to
come off poorly if the writer doesn’t actually know any others.
When it comes to feedback, I try not to assume and I try to
stay open-minded when someone points out to me the places where I am or am not
getting it right. I look (and listen)
for good examples and I pay attention to the bad examples, too.
At the end of the day, I hope it is the fear and trembling,
try and caring that will redeem my effort.
Because I think all of these ingredients are what will keep me
honest. I hope they will. A certain amount of fear and trembling –
feeling the weight of why it is so important to aim higher. And a lot of caring enough to try – really try – to get it as close to real
as possible so that my readers are invited to meet others familiar and
unfamiliar to their own journeys.
I’ve said for a long time that fiction provides us a sandbox
in which we can play with ideas that folks might not be comfortable exploring
any other way. And though the first and
foremost goal Is to tell stories that sweep our readers up and carry them away,
we are also influencing our culture, easing it in a forward direction and
putting light on our backwardness as a species in the way that we portray the
people in our fiction and in the way that we portray their struggles.
We have to try. We
have to care. And at least in my case, I
have to write my others with a bit fear and trembling with my fingers crossed
that I’ll get it more right than wrong as I do so.