I posted an idea for my next cupcake a little while back (an Agatha Christie-style mystery with a lesbian romance), and the reaction to it was amusing. I did intentionally post it on April 1, and got the following general categories of responses:
1. Hooray mystery! Hooray lesbians!
2. Hooray for one but not the other!
3. Ha ha, funny April Fool’s joke, Kyell.
4. Wait, is it an April Fool’s joke?
The answer is: yes, it was an April Fool’s joke–but not in the way you are probably thinking (“I am going to propose writing a story I have no intention of writing!”). It was an April Fool’s joke because I was posting a story I do intend to write on April 1, thereby ensuring that some people would immediately disbelieve it as being no more than a joke.
Come on, I’m a fox. I can’t just do a normal April Fool’s joke.
Anyway, I wanted to thank all you guys who said you would love to see this, because, well, it’s happening. Fuzz and Teiran over at FurPlanet apparently get asked on a semi-regular basis why they don’t have more lesbian fiction. I’m not sure what my qualifications for writing all-female romantic fiction are, but if I’m judging by the commenters, apparently a lot of lesbians have sex with scissors or something? That sounds painful and I will not be writing about it.
The funny thing about going back and reading Christie is that there are lesbians all over those books. This one I’m reading now, “A Murder Is Announced,” has a middle-aged pair of women who live together, one of whom is constantly described with the adjective “manly.” Two women living together happens all the time in her books, and in one (“A Caribbean Mystery“), Jane Marple’s nephew Raymond assures her that her house will be looked after properly while she is away by this fellow he’s found:
“He’ll look after the house all right. He’s very house proud. He’s a queer. I mean—” He had paused, slightly embarrassed—but surely even dear old Aunt Jane must have heard of queers.
Whereas Miss Marple is quite amused at how sheltered he believes her to be:
Though really rural life was far from idyllic. People like Raymond were so ignorant. In the course of her duties in a country parish, Jane Marple had acquired quite a comprehensive knowledge of the facts of rural life. She had no urge to talk about them, far less to write about them—but she knew them. Plenty of sex, natural and unnatural. Rape, incest, perversions of all kinds. (Some kinds, indeed, that even the clever young men from Oxford who wrote books didn’t seem to have heard about.)
I firmly believe that if Dame Agatha were alive today, she would be writing gay relationships into just about every book, and in fact, would likely have gotten rather bored of them by this point. So I’m not really treading new ground, just, you know, furrying it up a bit.
Anyway, it is loads of fun and I am very excited about it and I hope all you guys are too. ^^