I’m going to try to tackle a cluster of interrelated topics here, so bear with me. As with many facets of queer representation in fiction, it’s complicated.
Three of the most common questions I hear from writers new to queer rep are as follows:
- “How soon in my book should I show that my character is queer?”
- “How clear should I make it, so readers know?”
- “If it’s not important to the plot, why is it important to mention at all?”
These questions have something in common. On a fundamental level, they all represent the same dilemma: when (or even whether) to “out” queer characters to readers. This is a particularly relevant topic when it comes to casual representation, where a character’s identity is not supposed to be the focus of the story. To start with the third question on the list, then, “If it’s not important to the plot, why is it important to mention at all?”
The relevance of identity
Let’s unpack what some of those words mean in this context. “The plot” is, obviously, the driving narrative of the story. In a casual-rep scenario, plot possibilities are as endless as fiction: your queer character could be the captain of a crew of planet raiders, a football star trying to balance her studies with her commitment to the game, an undercover spy in a foreign country, or a thousand other things completely unrelated to being queer.
This brings us to “casual rep”—this unrelatedness is the whole point. The football star doesn’t struggle because she’s discriminated against for being a trans woman in the league. She struggles because she has a rivalry with the team captain of another school, who has threatened to end her team’s championship streak after a prank gone wrong. She struggles because this competition is eating up all of her spare time and attention, and her friendships and school grades are suffering as a result. She struggles because she definitely doesn’t have a crush on this rival captain, and if she admitted that, her school’s pride would never recover.
Is her identity as a trans woman “important” to this plot? Well, strictly speaking… no. But it’s relevant to who she is as a person. And it matters to every trans person who will ever see themselves reflected in a high-school sports story where a character like them has better problems to deal with than discrimination. Representation is always important, and casual rep is just as important as coming-out or queer struggle stories.
Timing the reveal
This, then, leads to our next question:
“How soon in my book should I show that my character is queer?”
This is a perfectly reasonable dilemma! Writing always requires providing the reader with the information they need without overloading them. So where in the book should you plant that flag?
The short answer is, it depends!
The time it takes for those queer flags to pop up should reflect your character’s relationship to them—and this will vary. Some people hold their queer identity as a central part of their identity. They want people to know they’re queer. If you ask them to describe themselves in three words, they’ll put queer identity first. That’s perfectly valid. It’s also not the norm.
For most queer folks, queer identity is just one facet of their whole existence, and should be treated as such. If a character ranks his identity as an older brother, a person who helps others, and a skilled flutist above the fact that he’s bisexual, don’t mention them all in the same breath. Follow the hierarchy of identity importance to the character.
There is also a situational aspect to any reveal, as some situations are more relevant to a particular identity than others. A character’s banter with their closest friends is far more likely to house a queer-reveal than a formal work presentation. Most humans show or hide different parts of themselves depending on relevance to the situation they’re in, and most humans are socially competent enough to discern which situations are a bad fit for any given detail.
For queer identity, this goes beyond just wondering whether a space is safe enough to be “out” in. Coming out is a lifelong process, and your character will likely weigh the relevance of coming out and the effort it will take against the value of being known in any given situation.
Considering mental bias
Now, there is a caveat here, or at least another thing to be aware of. Some queer identities are harder for readers to grasp than others, thanks to the societal messaging we have all received throughout our lives.
A perfect example of this is nonbinary genders. Like it or not, we’re all conditioned to code most people as “he” or “she,” and we do the same in books—even subconsciously. When a character’s gender is not disclosed, most readers’ brains will formulate an assumption in one direction or another. These assumptions tend to be binary, and can become locked in as our mental image of the character solidifies. Establishing such an identity early on in a book, then, can be important for heading off this phenomenon.
Now, this only really becomes relevant when a book is written in first person and the character in question is narrating. Writing nonbinary characters in third person is a whole other ballgame, but at least it doesn’t suffer from ambiguous pronouns! Not this kind, anyway.
Making it obvious
This brings us to the final question:
“How clear should I make it, so readers know?”
You’ve set out to plant this queer flag for your character. How deep should you drive it into the ground? Especially if their queer identity doesn’t make the top three or five or even ten words they use to describe themself?
This depends who you’re writing for. There are three broad categories, and they’re all equally valid. All hinge on your goal in writing casual rep, a question you should ask yourself before you start. Chances are, it will be one of the following:
1. To educate readers. This will involve naming a character as their specific identity and describing traits of that identity from very early on.
2. To make the rep unmissable without educating about it. This means making sure no reader can mistake your character as cis, straight, or allosexual, even if they fly under the radar.
3. To show queer readers themselves that they’re represented, while being okay if non-queer readers miss the memo.
Each of these requires a different approach. Why? Because readers who share your character’s identity will pick up on much more subtle cues than readers who don’t. Rep that’s obvious to queer readers might fly completely over non-queer readers’ heads. This is okay—if your goal is #3 above. Likewise, extensive detail on, say, how biological sex is different from gender is great for goal #1, but not the other two. If you missed the boat and started (or fully written) a book with casual queer rep without pinning down your goal, that’s fine! Just make sure you figure it out before you finish editing. It’s a key part of identifying who your target audience is, and therefore helping your book reach those readers.
Now, there’s a final question in this sequence: “How subtle is too subtle? How do I show queer identity in a casual but identifiable way?”
This question is complex enough to merit its own blog post. Good thing I like writing 😆