calling for your stories!
I am interested in your lesbian/bi/trans/questioning/queer stories! I am a writer, and I want to generate a collection of short stories all under a central lesbian/queer women theme. I want the fantastic, the unbelievable and the out of this world. But, more than any of that, I want what has mattered to you. I want what’s real, what has changed your life. You give me the raw details, and i'll write a non fiction peice about it!
So. In what ways did being gay change your life? In what way did it all stay the same? I want to hear about your first love, your first time, your first heart break. Maybe it was your 7th love that stuck with you. Unrequited love and reckless abandon. I want it all. You have a story, and I want to write about it. It is my sincere belief that we are all only stories. So be honest and share you stories with me. I promise to honour them with sincerity.
Here are some questions/ points to consider and comment on:
- Your coming out story
- Your family/friends reactions
- How you knew you were gay
- Your first girlfriend
- Your first heart break
- What hasn’t changed with you coming out
- Does being in a relationship change how you feel about your sexuality
- Being out vs. Privacy vs. Activism
- Violence or homophobia/ heterosexist issues you’ve faced
This is just a starting point- I’m interested in anything you have to say that’s queer related, good or bad, positive or negative.
Other things you can think of to include are you age (or age range), how out you are, your name, whether or not you’d like me to email you back, if you’d prefer I don’t email you, how you’d like to be addressed like first name, initials, nickname, whatever (And at the top of each piece I am hoping to say this piece inspired by:_____), and anything else you think I should know.
To make this a little more comfortable for you, here’s a bit about me:
My name is Meg, I’m 23, and I’ve been writing all my life. I came out about two years ago. I’m starting this project for a couple reasons. First I don’t think we have enough stories about our lives and our experiences. Second, I am applying to Masters Programs where I need to submit a collection of work. I can and do generate my own ideas and stories, but (and this is point 3) I want to be a creative non-fiction writer. I completed my BA studying Social Justice. I have learned about problems all over the world, and I could quote you stats, but this doesn’t change anything. We are not moved by numbers. We are, however, moved by stories. In fact, I believe that we are all only stories. I think the world can change if we share our stories, our selves, with the world. (Yes, I really am that idealistic.)
Anyway, here is a short sample of my writing; This is an except from a story I wrote called She Knew the Songs. (It’s a piece I wrote about a woman who falls in love with a woman, though she didn’t know she could. I hope it will help you understand that I will do my best to ensure you’re stories are treated respectfully, and written well. )
As her fingers traced along my jaw line, down my neck, skimming my body, the swirls and loops that decorated their tips whispered to my skin. They told the secrets of pleasure, ten times over. My nervous hands tried to shout confidence, but the shaking betrayed them. I wondered: Could she tell? Could she taste it in my skin? Was my skin sweeter, never having been kissed free of its innocence? Was it salty, never washed over by someone else’s tongue? Was she searching my body for the greasy trails left by another’s fingerprints? There were none to be found. I would tell her this, whisper the confession of my ignorance, but as her fingers danced along my skin I couldn’t bear to separate my lips from hers.I looked for cues: not confident in what came next, I followed her lead. My shirt, her shirt: like a dance. I let her guide me across the room. I didn’t resist, didn’t ask her to slow down or explain the rules of this new game. Maybe I should have, but I was caught up in the playing, thought I’d learn as the game went on. She had clearly played before. Her touch told me she knew the songs.
