Working my way through something

I’ve been spending time with a writing group that I met online through a beta reader match-up last fall. The writers are from all around the globe and bring diverse perspectives and writing styles to the table. The feedback I’ve received is invaluable.

One piece of feedback was related to timelines and relationships. My protagonist, Nina (names may change), is a queer identified woman; in one timeline she is 29 and the other she is 17. The story begins in 2010, when she is 29 and living in California with her girlfriend of several years. I jump back in time to 1998 when she is a junior in high school and she is just starting to understand her queerness through a crush she develops on a peer.

One of the beta readers shared that she had a hard time caring about the budding relationship because she knew it ultimately didn’t work out, since Nina is with someone else at the start of the story. I appreciated this perspective since I honestly hadn’t thought about that. To me, it was less about the budding romance and more about Nina’s lead into self-discovery. We get a glimpse of the homophobic remarks she hears when she is still passing as straight and how this impacts the choices she makes along the way. We hear the internal anxiety of someone who is experiencing something she is clearly being told is not ok and how she deals with that. These formative experiences color the relationships she has with friends and family as she ages. It nearly costs her the love of her life and her connection with her mother in the end.

I think I’m struggling to figure out the cadence of the story. Or perhaps, this just wasn’t the audience I’m going for. I like to think that the queer community would be intrigued and pick up on the importance of the high school relationship; but I’m not sure. I’ve also been told that a lesbian experience is passé and irrelevant. I’m still working through what feedback is helpful and significant and what to let go of. I know that my story and my writing aren’t going to be for everyone, and that’s ok. I’m sure my queer centric novel will resonate with a niche group of individuals, and I’m ok with that too.

I look forward to taking bits of these responses and folding them into the narrative to make it stronger. I’m playing with the idea of trashing the dual timeline and learning how to better incorporate flashbacks. This may propel the plot forward faster while also bringing in the backstory that I find so compelling. My favorite archetype is a fallible protagonist; a character who you might find yourself screaming at for making terrible choices. The one who you see sabotaging themself from the get, yet you can’t help but feel empathy for and connection with. Because we’ve all been there.

I see a lot of myself in Nina. I’ve hidden myself from others only to find that hiding sabotages any chance of real connection. How can anyone truly connect with me if they can’t see me. I talk to others all the time about the bravery of vulnerability and how it’s necessary if we want to build relationships, yet I find myself stuck behind a wall I’m not sure how to break down. I’ve been hurt in the past, and I’m in protective mode now. I know I’ve grown so much in the past two decades but I don’t trust that others are willing to see that growth. I fear they hold onto an idea of me from my twenties.

I think writing Nina through this lesson will ultimately help me learn it as well.

~ Peace