"Time has proven that cis writers aren’t always enlightened enough to deliver fully realized trans characters. And sure, it’s difficult when you lack firsthand experience. But whether it’s laziness, apathy, or whatever the writer’s lame excuse is—I’m not buying it."
Part of our LGBTQ+ focus month remit is to highlight inclusivity within the genre, we believe, and it may be wrong, hell this is a learning process for us, that the best way to increase to number of eyes on fiction from LGBTQ+ writers is to show that LGBTQ+ fiction shouldn't be marginalised, and that there should be nothing to be afraid of for to the straight white male reader when faced a character or a novel that deals with LGBTQ+ issues.
Sadly as is the case in most genres, most exposure to these characters and themes comes from books written by straight white people, so with that in mind we reached out to a couple of authors who have used LGBTQ+ characters in their novels and challenged them to show us either why they do it, or how they go about creating a character that isn't just a paper thin cliched cipher. Today we welcome Chad Stroup to explain how he went about creating, and doing justice to Trixie the trans woman protagonist in his novel Secrets of the Weird
Sadly as is the case in most genres, most exposure to these characters and themes comes from books written by straight white people, so with that in mind we reached out to a couple of authors who have used LGBTQ+ characters in their novels and challenged them to show us either why they do it, or how they go about creating a character that isn't just a paper thin cliched cipher. Today we welcome Chad Stroup to explain how he went about creating, and doing justice to Trixie the trans woman protagonist in his novel Secrets of the Weird
I’ve never been one to go limp in the face of a creative challenge.
Despite being what most would consider a cisstraightdude™ writer, I write queer characters from time to time, both as leads and supporting characters. Mostly because writing about individuals who are said to be “like me” gets a tad boring after a while (more on this shortly). However, I knew it was a big move from the get-go to choose a trans woman protagonist for my first novel, Secrets of the Weird, a risky endeavor some readers might not be open to. But I felt compelled to tell Trixie’s tale, and I’m not the type to attempt something in my fiction without going whole hog. Trixie had to matter, or why bother?
The dread of another cliché character who belongs to a marginalized group is a real thing, and I totally understand that apprehension. Time has proven that cis writers aren’t always enlightened enough to deliver fully realized trans characters. And sure, it’s difficult when you lack firsthand experience. But whether it’s laziness, apathy, or whatever the writer’s lame excuse is—I’m not buying it. I believe it’s possible to tackle any character of any background with a certain level of authenticity and still sell it. You just have to care enough to make it work to the best of your abilities.
With a few exceptions, I’m not terribly interested in characters who are “like me.” I use quotation marks here because so many straight cisgender male characters I tend to read about fall into categories that are the exact opposite of my life experience. They might be fathers, police officers, or philanderers. Or perhaps they’re Holden Caulfields, Patrick Batemans, or John Rambos, none of which I can remotely relate to. Writing a character like any of those I’ve mentioned above would be a huge challenge for me because I often share nothing with these types of individuals save some similarly shaped genitalia. Now, I realize this isn’t necessarily the same thing as writing a queer character and doing it justice, but I merely wanted to illustrate a point that—for me—writing almost any character involves stepping into the shoes of someone who has had vastly different life experiences from myself. What I’ve learned to do is find the common ground in a character and roll with it.
My first rule was being comfortable with the realization that some trans women readers might believe I got Trixie all wrong because many of her life experiences don’t match up with their own (which, in this case, is a damned good thing for the most part—just because I show respect when creating a character doesn’t mean I’m not going to force her to trudge through hell and back). And that’s fine. However, she also has plenty of experiences that are likely similar to what other trans women have had (and for those women, I offer my deepest condolences). Every individual is different. So I had to commit to the authenticity of Trixie and Trixie only, not worrying about fitting in everything that might be considered correct and excluding everything that might be considered controversial. My second rule was to make Trixie an engaging and likable character while still allowing her to be hopelessly flawed. I wanted straight men to fall in love with her, and the average reader to root for her despite the criminal acts and dishonesty she’s had participate in to survive. It is hopefully her imperfections that make her relatable to any reader from any background.
When I first began the journey of creating Trixie, I didn’t have any friends who were transgender. Certainly not by design, but it was that way nevertheless. And at the time, I didn’t feel comfortable reaching out to people I didn’t know to ask personal questions. However, research was still crucial for this character, so I had to get creative in order to lock Trixie down, because it was essential that she not be a cardboard cut-out. She needed to be a living, breathing human being capable of stepping off the page.
How did I manage that, you ask?
Watching hours upon hours of YouTube videos.
In the early stages of developing Secrets of the Weird, I listened to dozens of young trans women talk about various aspects of their lives. Some of their experiences were positive, while many had lived lives at the far end of the opposite spectrum. And as much as I’m pleased to see there are trans women in this day and age with people in their lives who love and support them, that wasn’t what I was looking for. Not for this character. I definitely wanted her to be someone who had an absorbing personality and was beginning to find happiness in her life, but also someone who had gone through dire circumstances to get where she was. Some of the young women I listened to were clearly uncomfortable with making their lives public yet still felt compelled to tell their stories. These were the individuals I felt immediately connected to. Some used humor as a coping mechanism, others exposed all of their awful experiences for the world to see. It was from these women I cherry-picked different details to Frankenstein together my own creation. A personality quirk, a physical attribute, the cadence in a voice, tales of uncomfortable encounters with strangers as well as friends, makeup tips, awkward pauses—not all of these things necessarily made it to the page, but they needed to be known to make Trixie work. And I’m personally quite proud of the final result.
I know I could never make Trixie as authentic as someone with firsthand experience. But I’m confident I did the absolute best I could, considering the circumstances, and I can’t wait to take Trixie even further on her journey in future stories. I hope you’ll take a chance and join us.
Despite being what most would consider a cisstraightdude™ writer, I write queer characters from time to time, both as leads and supporting characters. Mostly because writing about individuals who are said to be “like me” gets a tad boring after a while (more on this shortly). However, I knew it was a big move from the get-go to choose a trans woman protagonist for my first novel, Secrets of the Weird, a risky endeavor some readers might not be open to. But I felt compelled to tell Trixie’s tale, and I’m not the type to attempt something in my fiction without going whole hog. Trixie had to matter, or why bother?
The dread of another cliché character who belongs to a marginalized group is a real thing, and I totally understand that apprehension. Time has proven that cis writers aren’t always enlightened enough to deliver fully realized trans characters. And sure, it’s difficult when you lack firsthand experience. But whether it’s laziness, apathy, or whatever the writer’s lame excuse is—I’m not buying it. I believe it’s possible to tackle any character of any background with a certain level of authenticity and still sell it. You just have to care enough to make it work to the best of your abilities.
With a few exceptions, I’m not terribly interested in characters who are “like me.” I use quotation marks here because so many straight cisgender male characters I tend to read about fall into categories that are the exact opposite of my life experience. They might be fathers, police officers, or philanderers. Or perhaps they’re Holden Caulfields, Patrick Batemans, or John Rambos, none of which I can remotely relate to. Writing a character like any of those I’ve mentioned above would be a huge challenge for me because I often share nothing with these types of individuals save some similarly shaped genitalia. Now, I realize this isn’t necessarily the same thing as writing a queer character and doing it justice, but I merely wanted to illustrate a point that—for me—writing almost any character involves stepping into the shoes of someone who has had vastly different life experiences from myself. What I’ve learned to do is find the common ground in a character and roll with it.
My first rule was being comfortable with the realization that some trans women readers might believe I got Trixie all wrong because many of her life experiences don’t match up with their own (which, in this case, is a damned good thing for the most part—just because I show respect when creating a character doesn’t mean I’m not going to force her to trudge through hell and back). And that’s fine. However, she also has plenty of experiences that are likely similar to what other trans women have had (and for those women, I offer my deepest condolences). Every individual is different. So I had to commit to the authenticity of Trixie and Trixie only, not worrying about fitting in everything that might be considered correct and excluding everything that might be considered controversial. My second rule was to make Trixie an engaging and likable character while still allowing her to be hopelessly flawed. I wanted straight men to fall in love with her, and the average reader to root for her despite the criminal acts and dishonesty she’s had participate in to survive. It is hopefully her imperfections that make her relatable to any reader from any background.
When I first began the journey of creating Trixie, I didn’t have any friends who were transgender. Certainly not by design, but it was that way nevertheless. And at the time, I didn’t feel comfortable reaching out to people I didn’t know to ask personal questions. However, research was still crucial for this character, so I had to get creative in order to lock Trixie down, because it was essential that she not be a cardboard cut-out. She needed to be a living, breathing human being capable of stepping off the page.
How did I manage that, you ask?
Watching hours upon hours of YouTube videos.
In the early stages of developing Secrets of the Weird, I listened to dozens of young trans women talk about various aspects of their lives. Some of their experiences were positive, while many had lived lives at the far end of the opposite spectrum. And as much as I’m pleased to see there are trans women in this day and age with people in their lives who love and support them, that wasn’t what I was looking for. Not for this character. I definitely wanted her to be someone who had an absorbing personality and was beginning to find happiness in her life, but also someone who had gone through dire circumstances to get where she was. Some of the young women I listened to were clearly uncomfortable with making their lives public yet still felt compelled to tell their stories. These were the individuals I felt immediately connected to. Some used humor as a coping mechanism, others exposed all of their awful experiences for the world to see. It was from these women I cherry-picked different details to Frankenstein together my own creation. A personality quirk, a physical attribute, the cadence in a voice, tales of uncomfortable encounters with strangers as well as friends, makeup tips, awkward pauses—not all of these things necessarily made it to the page, but they needed to be known to make Trixie work. And I’m personally quite proud of the final result.
I know I could never make Trixie as authentic as someone with firsthand experience. But I’m confident I did the absolute best I could, considering the circumstances, and I can’t wait to take Trixie even further on her journey in future stories. I hope you’ll take a chance and join us.
ABOUT CHAD STROUP
Chad Stroup received his MFA in Fiction from San Diego State University. Secrets of the Weird, Stroup’s debut novel, is available from Grey Matter Press and his second novel, Sexy Leper, is forthcoming from Bizarro Pulp Press. His short stories have been featured in anthologies such as Chiral Mad 4, Lost Films, Splatterlands, and California Screamin’, and his dark poetry has appeared in all five volumes of the HWA Poetry Showcase. Visit his blog Subvertbia at http://subvertbia.blogspot.com/, follow him on Instagram (@chadxstroup), and drop by his Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/ChadStroupWriter.
SECRETS OF THE WEIRD BY CHAD STROUP
 |  |
