Avoid Back-Handed Inclusion in Your Book

Inclusion is one of those things that is becoming something of a buzzword in today's author circles. Everyone seems to be falling over each other to add it into their work, and to use it as an additional point in their favor when it comes time to move copies. The idea is pretty sound. If you have a more diverse cast, and you include elements like underrepresented ethnicities, cultures, sexualities, then you are both going to stand out from your competitors, and make your book more appealing to people who want to see that sort of thing.

In addition to, you know, trying to provide visibility for groups, communities, etc. who have traditionally been ignored/underserved in the past. If that sort of thing matters to you.

However, there is a trap that a lot of authors fall into when it comes to attempts to be inclusive. It's something that, after giving it a bit of thought, I'm calling back-handed inclusion.

Yes, Sharon, you have non-white characters. But they all appear to be drug-dealers and spousal abusers.

Think of your inclusion like lemons. The goal is to present them in an appealing, well-thought-out way that enhances your dish's overall flavor while giving it a broader appeal. However, back-handed inclusion is when you take the lemons, carefully cut them, then squirt them into the eyes of your target audience before acting mystified that they aren't impressed with your presentation.

A More Concrete Example

A back-handed compliment is when you say something that sounds nice on the surface, but which is rotten once you get under the skin. The traditional, "That dress doesn't make you look nearly so fat!" being one of the more common, barbed examples.

For something that applies to writing, I'll give you an example that concretely illustrates what I'm talking about.

Several years back I met the very talented Lauren Jankowski (author of several books you can find on her Amazon Author Page, and the muscle behind Asexual Artists). I was on a panel with her, and several of the points she made regarding asexuality and how it's treated in fiction got the wheels in my brain turning. A bit of free advice for all the folks out there; when you first start learning about a community you aren't part of and aren't familiar with, take your time. I guarantee the first idea out of your mouth is going to be stupid.

Mine sure as shit was.

Story time!

For those of you who haven't read The Big Bad II, or my story Little Gods, it follows an adventure starring Richard Blackheart, warlock-for-hire. Richard is a bad man, hands-down. He's violent, vindictive, brutish, and fairly amoral. However, I enjoyed writing stories about him, and I wanted to  add something to his concept in the event I published more stories about him.

My thought was to make him an asexual character.

Now, that thought was not a problem in-and-of-itself. As a part of his makeup, it could be a neutral characteristic. One might even argue that, from a marketing perspective, it makes the character more unique in comparison to similar villainous protagonists where toxic and aggressive sexuality is more the norm. However, the issue was that his sexuality was being used as a way to make him more alien to the audience, and to show him as lacking something fundamental that "normal" people would be able to identify with.

If you've ever sat and listened to someone who identifies as asexual, you'd know this attitude of, "there's something wrong with you/you haven't met the right one yet/all people want to do this," is one of the most common (and insulting) refrains they hear.

That is what back-handed inclusion is. It's when your gay male characters become flamboyant jokes, but you still want credit for being more diverse in your casting. It's when your villain is a scheming, long-nosed, greedy parody of Jewish bankers, and you can't figure out why people are mad at you for trying to be more inclusive. Or it's when you tout your strong female lead, but it seems like the book is really about the guy constantly standing next to her that makes all the important decisions, and saves the day in the end.

It is not that you tried to include these characters. It is that you included them poorly, carelessly, or without putting a lot of thought into them that makes an example back-handed inclusion. Which is, in reality, not really inclusion at all.

Better To Be Embarrassed During Editing Than After Publishing

Don't let the potential of screwing up put you off trying to be more inclusive in your work. We all make mistakes, and that goes double for when we're trying to do something we don't have a lot of practice with, or knowledge about. So while your heart might be in the right place, it's still possible that your execution leaves a lot to be desired.

But if you catch those mistakes during your plotting/planning phase, then you can refine them into genuine inclusion and diversity. And if you catch them during editing, you'll save yourself a lot of frustration once your audience gets a look at what you've made.

Hot tip: Exotic is a word used for spices, foods, and fabric... not people.

Do your research. Reach out to people from the communities you're writing about. Do your best to get everything right, and to keep an eye out for when you're saying, "Wow, you don't look nearly so fat in that dress." Because that slap in the face you're going to get won't hurt any less just because you didn't mean to be insulting.

That's all for this week's Craft of Writing installment. Hopefully it got some wheels turning! For more of my work, check out my Vocal archive, or head over to My Amazon Author Page where you can check out my books... like my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife!

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Asexual Awareness in Fiction

I want you to do something for me. Pick up any kind of pulp fiction from the early part of the 20th century, and give it a read. I want you to focus particularly on how these books portray minority characters. In Robert E. Howard's work you'll see black men with sloping foreheads and savage natures, and in H.P. Lovecraft's stories you'll see swarthy foreigners who are always in league with fell, ancient powers. The portrayal of characters of color as either brutal savages, evil villains, or hopelessly incompetent caricatures wasn't in every story being told at the time, but it was common enough that phrases like, "if it's brown, take it down," exist for explaining how to survive in some of these fictional worlds.

Do you have a point?

The point is that these stories came from a time long before the civil rights movement in the 1960s. They were written before the creation of the Internet, and while international book sales did happen they were nowhere near as common as they are today with our point-and-click digital book buying. In short they were written in a time where the authors felt they could portray parts of society who didn't have a voice in any negative, patronizing, or outright prejudiced way they wanted to.

The good news is, of course, that the parts of society being maligned by their representations in fiction eventually made their voices heard, and we've taken care of such obvious negativity.

Haven't we?

Asexuals: An Overlooked Minority

You've obviously read the title of this post so you know where I'm going with this. So let's address the big, hulking elephant in the room; asexuals exist. The simple definition is that asexuals are people who feel no sexual attraction. They are not psychologically deranged, they aren't celibate, and they aren't in need of a good bang to fix them. They are simply people for whom sex holds no interest.

It's more complicated of course, but we're sticking to simple definitions here. You can get more nuanced info at The Asexuality Visibility and Education Network.

But that's unpossible?

Yes, Spot, that's the reaction a lot of people have. Ever since some jackass with a gift for clever wordplay said, "Sex is what makes us human," people have clung to sexual desire as a standard feature of the human experience. If someone lacks this feature then people will freak out about it, either demanding proof that this person isn't just feigning a lack of interest, or trying to "fix" someone who identifies as asexual, aromantic, or both.

There's even a cool term you get for checking both boxes; aro-ace.

Ignoring that flies, fish, and ferrets all fuck, and are no more human for the experience, this belief shines through really strongly in our fiction. Aro-ace author Lauren Jankowski weighed in on the subject.

"Basically, in the modern era when it comes to mainstream entertainment, most characters who can be read as asexual are non-human. My own experience with it is that I've found tons of villains that were asexuals, but very few heroes (a lot of Disney villainesses can be read as either asexual or queer, which is incredibly aggravating). I know some people have observed that a lot of fantasy creatures (dragons, aliens, etc.) are often portrayed as asexual."

She's got a point.

Take a moment and ask yourself when was the last time you saw a character who could be read as asexual (not even one who out-and-out said it, just one you could interpret that way) in a heroic role. Hell, even a neutral role. Some of you might be able to come up with Sherlock Holmes or Hercules Poirot, but aside from a few great detectives who else is on the roster that is undeniably human whose lack of interest in sex isn't made to make them seem alien or "other" to you as the reader? And how often when it's brought up that there's no sexual partner in this character's life does Hollywood decide to throw one at this character just to show that no, they totally do sex.

Why Do We Do That?

Lauren went on to say that part of the problem she's experienced as both a reader and writer is that the hierarchy of relationships in society puts sex at the top. Put another way, if you're not banging someone then they're obviously less important than the person you are engaging in bedroom aerobics with. This means that platonic relationships, whether they be chaste love or closely-bonded friendships, are put on the bottom shelf.

So what should you do? Well, that depends on your story.

If you want to write a bodice-ripper, far be it for me to tell you not to. If you want to give your readers a payoff where you CIA assassin and his KGB counterpart go into hiding to live and love away from both nations, I'm certainly not going to stop you. Love in all of its gooey forms makes a lot of stories work, and without it their engines grind to a halt.

But the next time you're thinking about labeling your heroine as aromantic so the audience will view her as damaged, or you're contemplating making someone asexual as either a gag or so the reader won't identify with that character... don't. Why? Well because there are people in your potential audience who will see that, and who have had more than enough of that kind of treatment.

Secondly, it's lazy writing. You can do better than that.

If you'd like to see more from Lauren Jankowski check out her author page, and stop by Asexual Artists, an ongoing project she's running to help put the spotlight on asexual individuals in the arts.

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