Too Provocative for the Publishing Industry
Since the 2023 publication of my speculative sci-fi dystopian bestseller The Diary of a Sugarbaby, I have noticed (at the risk of self-victimization) that I have been treated differently because I am a queer provocative nonbinary independent author.
Firstly, queer people are statistically more disenfranchised than heteronormative individuals. Queer stories by non-queer authors (e.g. Hanya Yanagihara’s A Little Life, Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles, and André Aciman’s Call Me by Your Name) have more of a presence in the literary canon than queer stories by queer authors (e.g. Sim Kern’s Depart, Depart!, Malinda Lo’s Last Night at the Telegraph Club, and my very own The Diary of a Sugarbaby). No hate to the former titles. I adore them, really! But the discrepancy in fame, success, and sales is not inconspicuous.
Secondly, provocativeness is a quality most authors do not possess. (If they do, they hide it well.) As a human and in my craft, I am heavily inspired by characters like Elle Woods in Legally Blonde and Olive Penderghast in Easy A and artwork like Tom of Finland. I take salacious photos of myself and present them in an artistic albeit crude fashion to market my brand and TDS. I receive hateful comments and messages from readers, bookstagrammers, and even once another author (see image below). I don’t take the comments too personally because I know they’re a mere product of ignorance and ingrained Puritanical slut-shaming behavior. I am also putting myself out there for the world to see, so it’s only natural I receive some pushback and negativity, right? But it’s not just random readers and influencers on the internet…
TDS was not the first book I wrote and wanted to publish. Mercury to the Moon is a fantasy book I wrote three years ago. (I intend to publish it in 2025.) Over a year, I queried and queried and received 50+ rejections. Most did not say why. Until one day, I asked a literary agent at a prestigious publishing house why I had been rejected. (I needed genuine feedback.) They replied and said my “presence on social media would not do well in this industry.” I’m sure not all publishing houses feel the same. So, upon my next rejection from a different house, I asked that agent for feedback. They replied, “your book is just not right for at the time.” I believe they meant to say, “your book is just not right for ME* at the time,” or “your book is just not right for the time.” Who knows what the faux pas meant. In chapter 8 of TDS, I wrote, “Pretty is a double-edge sword. On one end, pretty draws in eyes… On the other end, pretty prevents people from seeing more than just a body.” Do you agree?
From my nonbinary experience, I find many women see the identity as an attack on their womanhood. In chapter 58 of TDS, my queer character Cedi denies my protagonist’s gender identity because she “didn’t want to have to evaluate herself and her identity within the gender spectrum… She thought it would take away or minimize her womanhood.” Nonbinary is its own experience just as much as womanhood is its own. But even today, even in the queer community, I am denied my experience. People see nonbinary as just a fad or a way of dressing (i.e. that one must dress a certain way to be seen as nonbinary). Your fit does not make your gender; your fit is genderized. In TDS, I clearly state on page 22 and 251 that the protagonist (who is based on me) is queer and nonbinary. Yet, Kirkus Reviews called my protagonist “a gay man.” I emailed and asked them to rectify their mistake. They didn’t at first. I then posted the following image on Instagram, and they changed it that day. But it’s not just Kirkus Reviews. It’s also IndieReader and BlueInk Review. Neither platforms have changed their wording. Don’t get me wrong. I am grateful for these testimonials. They help with marketing and are all good if not great critiques. But nonbinary existences, even in literature, should not be erased, ignored, or forgotten.
Lastly, the most apparent prejudice in the literary industry is that against independent authors. Not one indie author has ever won the National Book Award. Not one indie author has earned a PEN America Fellowship. Not one indie author has won the Hugo or Nebula award. These awards often set out to provide writers with “wiggle room.” Yet, traditionally published authors statistically earn more than indie authors. They call our works “low-quality” and “self-published,” but I find both terms offensive. Low-quality gives the impression that it is a bad book that hasn’t been edited, proofread, formatted, designed, or marketed. Self-published is also wrong because it gives the impression that we published only for ourselves. I and many others prefer the term “independent author” because it invokes a sense of purpose, drive, and career. Visit the Alliance of Independent Authors for more! Powerhouses like NPR, the LA Times, the Guardian, the NY Times, the New Yorker, O Magazine, the Sunday Times, and the Wall Street Journal are less likely to review indie works than they would traditionally published works. Kirkus Reviews do not review indie works; they have a specific branch under them called Kirkus Indie that specializes in reviewing indie works. Indie and traditionally published works are thus segregated. Major publishing houses, like Macmillan, HarperCollins, and Simon & Schuster, have reputation, connections, and capital. So, can I really blame them? And then there’s bookstores. Some bookstores refuse to carry indie works. One bookstore in Chicago replied to my sale email saying, “if you ever have a book with a traditional publisher, please reach out again.” I received a similar response from a bookstore in Pittsburgh. These are the same independent bookstores that claim they are “indy-minded” but only say that in their bios because they are an indie business whose major competitor is Amazon. Don’t get me wrong. Amazon is horrible. (Read more about that on SocialJusticeBook.org.) But if these bookstores mean what they say, wouldn’t they uplift voices of indie artists? Of course, not all bookstores share this approach; I have a litany of stores that carry TDS and other indie works here! (Please check them out! They rock!)
Unfortunately, the cards are stacked against me. The publishing industry and people in general are, simply put, prejudiced toward queer provocative nonbinary independent authors. When it comes to choosing which books to read, please do not let preconceived notions prevent you from reading a fantastic novel or making equal judgment!
