Writing Outside Your Experience by Poppy Gee

 

CRAFT What are your thoughts on writing ‘outside your own experience’? What are the potential pitfalls? What are reasons to do it? Can you give a personal example of how you navigated this potentially problematic terrain?

This month was my turn to set the questions, and I planned to share my experience writing a neuro-diverse character, in my novel Vanishing Falls, when I am not neuro-diverse myself.

But recently, I had an interesting conversation at a writing community event, so I want to share that first. I was making writerly small talk with a bunch of strangers when a white woman I’d just met revealed to me that she had given up trying to find a publisher for her novel manuscript.

“I sent it out to a bunch of publishers, and no one wanted to publish it because it was about an Aboriginal character,” she said.

She spoke with frustration, even a touch of anger. She was annoyed that publishers were reluctant to touch it. I got the impression that she felt they were under pressure to be ‘politically correct’; or something like that.

In the past few years, I have spent an increasing amount of time at writing events – book launches, attending or teaching writing classes, networking lunches and literary dinners. I share this to clarify that I talk to lots of writers, and the overwhelming majority understand why ‘own voices’ should be prioritised. However, concerningly, this conversation is not unusual – I’ve had a similar conversation at least three times this year so far.

I asked the writer what happened to the manuscript.

“When no one would publish it, I had to publish it myself,” she said.

What surprised me was her stubbornness, or lack of curiosity, in not interrogating why publishers are reluctant to publish books written by white writers from the perspective of a POC, or people from other groups of which the writer does not identify as belonging to.

When you embark on post graduate study – Masters or PhD programs – one thing you have to do before you begin writing your thesis is to conduct a literature review. What similar things have been published in this field? What does this involve? Why are you the best placed person to carry out this particular project?

It wouldn’t hurt creative fiction writers to consider these questions. (From a marketing POV, it could help during publicity – if you had completed a hiking trip on the Pacific Crest Trail following the death of your mother, for example, or if you once worked in the Secret Service – and your novel portrayed that experience, that’s a great publicity hook.)

For white Australian writers wanting to write a First Nation's character, my writerly advice is this: talk to your closest Aboriginal friends about it. If that’s not an option, think about why, and ask yourself if you are the best placed person to be writing that particular book. Next, talk to Aboriginal elders, leaders or experts who might be relevant to your project: consult, research, discuss, share, consider different perspectives. Be sensitive, empathetic, curious and collaborative. Read more here: https://www.asauthors.org.au/news/what-you-need-to-know-about-indigenous-cultural-and-intellectual-property/

Writing outside your experience/knowledge is not impossible, but it does take more work. White Australian writers who have done this well, in my opinion, include Eleanor Limprecht The Coast, Ben Hobson The Death of John Lacey, Tess Merlin Red Lights Blue Dirt, and Lucy Treloar Salt Creek, among others.

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Now, regarding my experience writing a neuro-diverse character, Joelle, the protagonist of my last novel Vanishing Falls.

I wrote the character, inspired by a news article about a girl with an intellectual impairment who was inadvertently caught up in a crime. My character’s personality was influenced by several people close to me. I also interviewed doctors and social workers, and carers and close relatives of people who have an intellectual impairment. I loved my character, she was fun to write, she was well loved, had a great marriage and family, and she embraced life. 

I felt I had represented her positively… until, as the novel was being prepared for publication, the editorial team at William Morrow engaged two sensitivity readers.

That’s when things got fraught.

The first sensitivity report was blistering – the reader identified a long list of words and descriptions that could be offensive or problematic. Writing this blog post now, I reread their report, and I’m cringing with embarrassment. The second sensitivity reader was glad to see a character with an intellectual impairment featured as a protagonist, but they misinterpreted some key scenes and motivations, in a way that horrified me.

The searing honest of sensitivity reader reports was confronting, but I was grateful for the chance to fix things. I credit them in my Acknowledgements section - their input improved my work substantially.

As an aside, did you know that in Australia sensitivity readers are only paid about $300 per report? For that small remuneration, they read the manuscript and write a 5-6 page report. It’s not right. Given their main customers are publishing houses trying to be sensitive, you’d think there would be more sensitivity regarding the time, effort and expertise that goes into supporting writers with this invaluable feedback. For me, the sensitivity reports were as good as, if not better than, the editorial support I have received from inhouse editors.