Writing when you're single, Part Three

I'll answer one more question about writing as a single woman—actually, as a single black woman—to wrap up the Writing when you're single series...

#3 How is being a black woman writer different? You’re the one who said it was, so no chickening-out, now.

So, some things are common to the human experience and to a woman’s writing experience, of course: wishing you were published like any writer, concern about being taken seriously within your genre (I think Anne McCaffrey is a good example—a woman writing what folks realized was science fiction in the 70s), and so on. But, has anyone here ever tried to write a fantasy fiction story for their favorite video game, did decently well, drummed up a good fanbase, and then wondered whether your fans even knew if you were black? Wondered if that would cause them to question what they’re reading, whether her characters in a fantasy universe (when these are predominantly white) really were so well-informed, or wondered if it would just be safer to keep your racial identity to yourself, or simply not bring it up so that you can keep focusing on enjoying the story? Can you even call that enjoying the story?

She's a Mean Old H4 Bus, Cpt 5

Chapter Five: Screaming in Spanish

Emperor “Moi” Crush reached out with his furred arm and swiftly took Mike’s rifle away as he armed himself. Charlotta got her gun. Dark legs spread, shaking, cussing at herself for not being able to decide whether to…

“No me pegues, Charlotta, o pegaré a tú novio, mister asian-persuasion over there...”

“Shut up, Moi!”

“Charlotta, this is our only chance… don’t worry about me. You know how seductive the deer can be. Just protect yourself. Now, squeeze the trigger.”

“You? Shoot me? You can’t do it fast enough, Charlie. I’m half deer now, I’m stronger, faster, sexier… think about it! How are you going to shoot me first, when I got coy pond’s gun so fast?”

“Okay, you know what, Moi, you’re really pissing me off with the damned Asian jokes… and that one wasn’t even funny, what the fuck—”

“Charlotta, I said to put down your gun.”

Writing when you're single, Part Two

The Writing When You're Single series continues... this one's a two-fer!

#2 Writing on date night, and writing with a broken heart

What about weekend nights—do you ever feel guilty for staying in to write if nothing else comes up?

For this one, first let’s debunk the idea of singlehood being a pathetic or less-than state of existence. I’m not a romance guru; I’ll refer you to one of my favorite dating bloggers at the moment: Natalie Lue with Baggage Reclaim can help you pull all that mess together. 

But, once you have embraced that your time is your own, you should spend it how you like therefore, and that you definitely don’t need to spend it constantly trying be out with a special someone on the weekends if you’re not interested in what’s going on one particular evening, nor fond of anything your friends are doing…

Writing when you’re single

Oh, yes I did draw a black
Wonder Woman with cornrows...

I’ve had some funny hehe (entertaining) and funny haha (oh, how embarrassing) moments writing as a single woman. Even as a black single woman, which adds another layer to what you may experience when you’re drafting your novel at home in singlehood, trying to explain your story-babies to folks at work, and even “secretly” sharing risqué fantasy fiction from beneath a cute moniker for your favorite video game… 

So, I realized it might be helpful and really, amazingly goofy of me to share how the single-writing-female thing goes down, for any avid fiction readers who wonder how it does all come together when real life is in the way, or for any other lady writers out there looking for friendly reflection from a fellow Diana Prince by day, Wonderwoman writer by night type of gal.

This will be a three-part series, so hold on tight! (You’re holding on tight because it’s exciting. Omg, are you still not holding on tight? You just hurt my feelings...)

#1 How the hell do you write good romances when you’re not dating?

Oh my God, so how many times over the years have I plunked down on the sofa at the end of a frustrating day of trying to work, while at day-job and not focusing on some guy who was great/letting me down at the moment, and then tried to come up with something noble, sexy