'Nathan Burgoine's Blog, page 7

Can*Con 2024 — Where I’ll Be

Audiobook! Eee! So. Excited.

Hey all! I’ve been pretty much buried under the various last steps of getting Upon the Midnight Queer ready for its release on November 12th (including having gotten the physical proof, the audiobook proofs, and I can now happily announce that Giancarlo Herrera is back, and he’s brought Hannah Schooner with him, and listening to them perform off each other in these stories has been the highlight of this whole journey thus far).

That’s the “why have you been so quiet?” part.

Tonight, though, I’m heading to the Hallowe’en party that’s pre-launching this year’s Can*Con, and I can’t wait! I mean, not for the party (though I’m looking forward to the party) but for Can*Con itself. If you don’t know about Can*Con, allow me to cut-and-paste their self-description for you: Can*Con is a periodic science fiction and fantasy convention in Ottawa put on by The Rocket Words Society.  Can*Con supports diverse, emerging and established speculative fiction authors in honing their craft, expanding their professional networks, and accessing tools and resources to further their artistic careers.

That doesn’t do it justice, but they’re being humble. It’s a favourite event, and one I look forward to year after year.

Where I’ll Be

If you’re also at Can*Con and you want to say hello, please do! I love meeting new people and then immediately saying something awkward and making us both regret every life choice that led to that moment. It’s kind of my whole thing. (I’m kidding. Well, I hope I’m kidding.)

But definitely say hi if you see me. Also? I’ve got a full tin of Death Prediction cards (from my This is How You Die days) and if you’d like, just ask me how you’re going to die and I’ll give you a prediction card!

How’s that for a non-awkward icebreaker, eh? Eh?

I’m going to be taking part in a few panels/discussions as well, and here they are:

Friday November 1st — 8:00pm, Salon C — “Making the Fun Stuff Work” — Whether it’s an intricate fight scene, a horror gorefest, or explicit sex, many subgenres have sequences that enhance the fun, while not necessarily furthering the plot. While readers enjoy these features, and often expect them from certain subgenres, how do writers navigate hitting the “pause” button on the plot for the sake of these sequences? How can we make sure that these scenes enhance the story, rather than just existing? Is there a way to craft them so that they appeal to those who aren’t excited or titillated at the start? Panelists: ‘Nathan Burgoine, James Downe, and Aysha U. Farah; Moderated by Ira Nayman.

Saturday November 2nd — 1:30pm, Vendors Room — Signing! — Myself and the brilliant Kate Heartfield will be signing for half an hour. She’s amazing, so mostly I’ll be sitting there and gushing to her, but I promise to sign anything you bring my way. Oh! This is open to the public, by the way!

Saturday November 2nd — 4:00pm, Salon C — “Three’s (Not) A Crowd: Polyamory in Fiction — Though far from unheard of, polyamory is still somewhat rare as a focus in fiction. Whether it’s an open relationship, one character with multiple committed partners, or a full triad (or quadrangle, etc.), more characters means more interactions, more development, and more dynamics to balance. How do the elements of writing compelling relationships change when polyamory is added to the mix? What are the joys and challenges of creating polyamorous characters and relationships? Do these components change when writing polyamorous characters/relationships as a side plot, versus as a capital-R Romance? Panelists: ‘Nathan Burgoine, Steve Kenson, Avi Silver; Moderated by Rebecca Bennett.

Sunday November 3rd — 10:00am, Salon D — “The Need for Community” — From found family to intergenerational tales, stories across speculative fiction showcase the importance of community in a variety of forms, beyond the obvious need for human connection. In what ways have recent works spotlighted resilience and hope as something inherent to a healthy community? How do writers approach the notion of community in a way that’s nuanced and realistic? At what point does conflict become too much, bringing fictional community to its breaking point? Panelists: Charlotte Ashley, André Geleynse, Terese Mason Pierre; Moderated by ‘Nathan Burgoine.

Dude, I Didn’t Get a Ticket!

Worry not! All is not lost! The Vendors Room is open to the public, and there’ll be people signing there throughout the event (including me at 1:30pm on Saturday), The Vendors Room hours are: FRIDAY, NOV 1: 5pm – 8pm, SATURDAY, NOV 2: 10am – 6pm, and SUNDAY, NOV 3: 10am – 4pm.

Paperback Preorders for Upon the Midnight Queer

Holiday tales, retold queerly…

A silk hat turns snow into life and a chance at love for a man with little hope of either. Two men with a connection sparked in passing attempt to withstand everything the tumultuous Toronto of 1981 throws their way, with their only remaining hope being Christmas Eve itself. A much-maligned queen of the snow teaches a young boy how to use his magic to find others of his kind. And a reindeer shines a light of its own, and with the help of the daughter of Father Time, brings gifts—and hope—to all those usually left behind.

Holiday magic connects these tales and more—tales heard and seen and sung before, familiar and joyous, or tender and bittersweet—all to the last told upon the midnight queer.

Upon the Midnight Queer is the second short story collection from Lambda Literary Award finalist ’Nathan Burgoine, and includes the brand new Little Village Holiday Novella, “Folly.”

Paperback Pre-orders!

I said I’d make some noise when it was possible to pre-order paperback copies of Upon the Midnight Queer and it’s officially possible! So far, the listings have shown up at Amazon.ca, Amazon.com, and Barnes & Noble, but more links should fill in as the listings go live, and they should all appear under this Books2Read link (which also includes all the active ebook links, too).

I cannot tell you how happy I am to be able to offer this one in print—especially for those of you who’ve been so very patient after asking me for a way to get your hands on a physical copy of “Dolph,” which, y’know, was ten years ago—and I further cannot wait for you to see how gorgeous it is, thanks to the work of Inkspiral (who also did the cover art).

You also mentioned an audiobook…

I did! And I’m definitely going to be back with more information on that front, so stay tuned. The process has begun, and I’m beyond excited about it. The very moment I can send you to some sort of link, I will. Promise.

Pre-orders? Pre-orders!

Holiday tales, retold queerly…

A silk hat turns snow into life and a chance at love for a man with little hope of either. Two men with a connection sparked in passing attempt to withstand everything the tumultuous Toronto of 1981 throws their way, with their only remaining hope being Christmas Eve itself. A much-maligned queen of the snow teaches a young boy how to use his magic to find others of his kind. And a reindeer shines a light of its own, and with the help of the daughter of Father Time, brings gifts—and hope—to all those usually left behind.

Holiday magic connects these tales and more—tales heard and seen and sung before, familiar and joyous, or tender and bittersweet—all to the last told upon the midnight queer.

Upon the Midnight Queer is the second short story collection from Lambda Literary Award finalist ’Nathan Burgoine, and includes the brand new Little Village Holiday Novella, “Folly.”

Pre-orders are starting to go live!

A while back, I teased the cover for Upon the Midnight Queer—and how could I not, given the brilliance that was Inkspiral’s cover art yet again?—and then things sort of fell silent around here while I did all the things you have to do to make ones and zeroes line up in their correct order inside various boxes all around the planet.

Well, those ones and zeroes have started to line up to the point where it’s starting to be possible to pre-order. So far? You can find it at Smashwords, Amazon.com, Amazon.ca, and I imagine the other Amazon-dot-you-name-its will populate as time passes. I’m still waiting on Kobo and other websites, but I’ll come back here and edit this post as they go live.

But if you’re an ebook reader who prefers your books via Kindle you are all set to pre-order, and come November 12th, Upon the Midnight Queer will be downloaded and waiting for you!

Didn’t you mention audiobooks and paperbacks?

I’ve also begun the process for audiobook, and paperback, yes! Do I have preorder links for those yet? No. No, I do not. But I promise I shall raise the roof about those once they happen, too.

So… about an ARC?

I have access to digital ARCs (pdfs and epubs) and I can make that happen, yes. If you’re a reviewer, by all means hit me up here or through my various Social Media places if you’d like to make some noise.

Cover Reveal—Upon The Midnight Queer

Hey all! I’m here today with a “coming soon” and a cover reveal and I could not be happier with what Inkspiral has come up with (one again, it’s gorgeous and everything I could have hoped for).

That’s enough pre-amble, right? Right. It’s enough. Pre-order links will come later, I promise.

A silk hat turns snow into life and a chance at love for a man with little hope of either. Two men with a connection sparked in passing attempt to withstand everything the tumultuous Toronto of 1981 throws their way, with their only remaining hope being Christmas Eve itself. A much-maligned queen of the snow teaches a young boy how to use his magic to find others of his kind. And a reindeer shines a light of its own, and with the help of the daughter of Father Time, brings gifts—and hope—to all those usually left behind.

Holiday magic connects these tales and more—tales heard and seen and sung before, familiar and joyous, or tender and bittersweet—all to the last told upon a midnight queer.

Upon the Midnight Queer is the second short story collection from Lambda Literary Award finalist ’Nathan Burgoine, and includes the brand new Little Village Novella, “Folly.”

Capital Pride!

Hey all! Just a quick note to say I’ll be at Capital Pride’s Street Festival this weekend! Saturday August 24th and Sunday August 25th, from Noon to 8:00pm, the Street Festival is up and running on Bank Street between Gladstone and Slater. You’ll be able to find me in specific at a table between Gilmour and James, where I’ll be accompanied by the wonderful Christian Baines, A.J. Dolman, and James K. Moran and our queer books will be there for your perusing, purchasing, and getting-them-personalized pleasure! Queer horror, queer urban fantasy, queer poetry, queer short fiction, queer romance, queer YA… It’s going to be really queer, is what I’m saying.

Hope to see you there! I’ll have all my novel-length works with me for sale, and thanks to the grace of my fellow authors, there’ll even be non-cash options because unlike me, they’re not hopeless technologists. Do drop by, say hello, and Happy Pride!

Capital Pride from a couple of years ago! Myself, my husband, and my sister-in-law and her wife. Yep. Husband’s parents really lucked out on the whole queer kids front.

Queer Your Bookshelf!

Today is the day! There are more than 400 queer e-books on sale for ninety-nine cents (or the equivalent thereof) and while I’m sure if you’ve been around these parts there’s a good chance you’ve already seen mine, it’s a great opportunity to find some new favourite authors!

What’s the link? This is the link: https://queeryourbookshelf.com

You can use a simple page search and navigate through some subgenres to narrow down what you’re looking for. My novella Rear Admiral is included in this sale, and on the off chance you’ve not bumped into that one before, here’s the bite-sized version from the Queer Your Bookshelf site:

Everything—yes, everything—about former porn actor Dom Masters is big. Can one average nurse and his way-more-than-average crush work? Russ figures there’s one way to find out: go big or go home…

Alain Brosseau

For what I imagine are obvious reasons, I keep thinking of Alain Brosseau’s murder.

For those who don’t know the story, I’ll try and be brief, though I already doubt I’ll succeed.

Alain Brosseau was walking home after work, was chased by a group of teenagers who caught and beat him.

They held him by his ankles over the edge of a bridge, and let go, killing him.

They killed him because—in their words—they thought he was gay.

It was his shoes, as I recall. (They said, ‘I like your shoes.’ and there’s a film, ‘Nice Shoes, F—–t’ on the subject.)

Alain Brosseau wasn’t gay though. He was straight.

After killing Brosseau, those teens broke into the home of a queer couple of men, and attacked them, too. More attacks had already happened in areas known to be frequented by gay men.

Brosseau was killed—this is horrible, of course—but I want to repeat that many queer men had been targeted.

But because Brosseau wasn’t gay the outcry was different.

Getting killed because of this hate could happen to *anyone*, people seemed to realize.

You know what happened after that?

The Ottawa Police created the hate and bias crime unit, basically. First of its kind in Canada, I believe. Like, this was the start of them. Someone who wasn’t gay got killed.

That’s what it took.

I am so glad hate and bias crime units exist. I’ve had to use one—a mixed experience, but.

But even at my most charitable, when I’m on the upward edge of my faith in humanity, when I think of Brosseau, what always comes to mind is knowing how many people found the line had been crossed with his death using some variation of “he wasn’t even gay!”

He shouldn’t have died, period.

He shouldn’t have been killed, period.

Even if he had been gay, it should have mattered just as much. (But it didn’t. We know that from looking at all the murders that didn’t create a Hate and Bias Crime Unit.)

The “this is too much” point was, though, that someone not-queer was killed.

All this to say it’s 100% true that Imane Khelif isn’t a trans woman. I loathe the transphobic, misogynistic, and intersexphobic garbage being tossed her way. It’s wrong.

But for fuck’s sake, it wouldn’t be right if she was trans, either, goddamnit.

Disability Pride Month

It’s pretty much a running joke now with the Spoonie Authors Network how hesitant I am when it comes to considering my own state as a disabled person, and I quite appreciated this post—especially the complicated and complex notions of how so many people feel about their disabilities—so I wanted to share it.

Why We Need Disability Pride Month

Queer the Shelves 2024

Last week, I was in Nottingham, UK for Queer the Shelves 2024, and before anything else I have to tell you, know this: it was fabulous. I talk a lot about the isolation most of us queer folk have when we’re younger—the rare exception being the queerlings who are born to a queer parent or two, or lucky enough to have an older queer sibling or aunt or uncle or the like—but the flipside to that isolation is the sheer freaking joy one feels when you gather in a place specifically devoted to queerness, even for a day.

Ay Up, Nottingham! Hour Twenty One.

“They” say it’s the journey not the destination, but as of this particular trip I can one-hundred percent say that is complete garbage. My journey was—let’s not overstate—pretty darn awful. The entire door-to-door experience should have been around nine or ten hours. I got to finally enter my hotel at hour twenty-one.

Yeah, you read that right.

The short version (I will cheerfully share the longer version in person, as it has passed that threshold of trauma-becoming-funny now) is this: First flight delayed two hours, second flight delayed six hours (yep, I didn’t leave Canada until 3:30am!), the Heathrow Express ran on time (first thing to go well) but then East Midlands Rail canceled all trains to Nottingham from London St. Pancras. But I made it. I made it close to something like seven-thirty at night Nottingham time, but I made it. I ate a meal I cannot actually recall (seriously, no idea what I ate) and then crashed into my hotel bed.

Familiar Faces, Wonderful Places

The next morning it is safe to say I was “up” but not approaching “at ’em.” The singular plus side to the transportation woes of the day before turned out to be sleeping in until almost five in the morning, which did a great deal of the work on the jet-lag front. I barely noticed the jet-lag beyond some deep fatigue in the afternoon that I think was more to do with just how long the day before was, not time change.

But! I was in Nottingham, my books and luggage had all arrived, and I had the day to myself before I was to meet with Robyn Nyx (aka Helena Harte) and Brey Willows (aka Ally McGuire) at the Nottingham Central Library for some set-up, followed by a lovely meal and then an evening at the local queer pub where we’d be meeting those who’d come in a night early.

But first? Full. English. Breakfast.

I don’t talk much about being an ex-pat Brit, because for the most part, I don’t really think about it. Canada is a wonderful place to live (with all the usual caveats), and I enjoy my life. But… Listen.

Full. English. Breakfast.

Proper bacon. Sausages. Beans. Eggs. Toast—ohmigod British bread—and tea?

I sat there, and suddenly those twenty-one hours seemed closer to, I dunno, eighteen? Seventeen? Something like that.

I mean, my first bachelor pad wasn’t much better…

Post-breakfast, I spent the morning wandering through the Nottingham Contemporary art museum, which was quite lovely (and started a theme I really appreciated: Nottingham museums are small-to-medium sized, which means they’re perfect for having a wander around in any given morning, and left me feeling quite happy at the duration and impact of the experience—I often find myself overwhelmed in massive museums, and feeling like I need more time to explore everything, and end up rushing or exhausted from trying to get it all “done.”) After the art, I went to the Justice Museum, which was as phenomenal as I remembered (I took a guided tour of it last time, with a group, but wanted to do a wander-on-my-own this time). At the Justice Museum, I also picked up some lovely postcards of the horrendous conditions people suffered through, because you never know when you might need to send a postcard to someone that says ‘Wish you were here!’

Both experiences had me happy to pause for a very late lunch—after a Full English Breakfast the best I could manage was a hot chocolate and a slice of carrot cake—and then headed back to my hotel for a bit because of that late-afternoon-ooginess I mentioned earlier. I had a nap, felt much better thereafter, and grabbed my books and set out of find the library.

Which is an amusing side note in and of itself.

I’m a grown adult, I’ve moved a lot, and I don’t necessarily find travel particularly anxiety inducing, but this time I decided (for some reason) not to bother getting overseas data or cell coverage, and instead rely on wi-fi. This would have been fine had planes and trains gone as planned, but since they hadn’t, I was ducking into cafés to try and rearrange train tickets on wi-fi and so on, and I don’t know if that sort of set my brain to “assume the worst” mode or not, but I found myself loading up GPS while I was in my hotel, plotting out routes to my next destination carefully, and making notes to myself as though somehow, were I to get slightly off-track, I’d end up in Australia or something. Strange how the brain works, no?

Anyway, the funny story here is I wasn’t far from Nottingham Central Library, and walking there involved something ridiculous like only three turns on three streets total, but I had the “what if I get lost?” vibe in my head, so I set out early and…

Bumped into a wall mural that read “Nottingham Central Library!” with a big arrow on it. Suffice it to say each of the letters in that sign were taller than me. I didn’t snap a photo at the time—I should have—but look, Astronauts wouldn’t have trouble finding the place, is what I’m saying.

Library! These two (Robyn and Brey) did an amazing freaking job.

It needs saying how incredible the library was, also how freaking awesome the library staff were, so I’ll say it here: the library was incredible, and so were the staff. If you’ve not seen the new Nottingham Central Library, it’s gorgeous. I stood in the lobby waiting for Robyn and Brey and just stared around in wonder, and when they arrived—hugs!—we went up into the space we were going to be using.

The space we were given was this lovely side-room on the second-floor that would fit the seventy people in a comfortable way that would never felt crushing but also didn’t echo, by the way. Once we’d dropped off all our things for the next day—at this point joined by two other authors whose names I’d probably remember if everyone didn’t also have three pseudonyms, a nickname, and a propensity to use initials and I’d not had a twenty-one hour travel time (I’m kidding, it was E.V. Bancroft and Valden Bush)—and the five of us went out to a burger place for dinner.

I had a side-order of chilli fries, because Full. English. Breakfast. still hadn’t worn off.

Thereafter, we headed to The New Foresters, a Nottingham queer bar, spread our rainbow wings, and one-by-one were joined by wonderful new authors (and one brave reader) who’d arrived for tomorrow’s festivities.

Cause Wings are Meant to Fly It matched my Pride Godzilla rage T shirt.

The outside, fenced-in yard at The New Foresters is lovely if you ignore the barbed razor-wire (no, really) and as our group grew we nudged square tables together in the way only a group of mostly queer women can do—efficiently and correctly, damnit—and among the many who gathered were author Melissa Tereze, audiobook performer Hope Newhouse (plus one entourage) and—of particular joy for me especially—author, illustrator, and designer Matthew Bright! That’s right, for the second time in my life, I got to sit and chat with the genius behind Inskpiral Design, and it was awesome. One of those odd things about writing in the queer world is how you end up friends with people you’ve only met face-to-face once in your life.

Well now it’s twice. So there. Pretty sure this means we’re in each others wills now.

Also, it turns out the most relevant question when discussing 80s pop stars turned out to be “Are they still alive?” The more you know.

The numbers grew and grew as the hours went by and before I knew it, it was ten o’clock at night, and time zones or no, that’s like a whole hour past my usual jammies time, so Matt and I headed back to our hotels—I could walk to mine, he had to dodge entire crime neighbourhoods for his and still ended up with strangers walking in on him while he was naked—and I crashed for the night knowing tomorrow I’d have to use my social battery for, like, eleven hours straight.

And I couldn’t wait.

Queer the Shelves

The day of the event began as every day of this vacation would: Full. English. Breakfast.

Than, in what felt like a blink-and-miss-it, I was walking back to the Nottingham Central Library (following the handy sign visible from orbit) and I stepped through the front doors of the library with my progress pride t-shirt and smiled at the guy behind the desk.

“Hi—” I started, about to say I was here for the event but I already knew my way.

“Queer the Shelves is on the second floor, all the way to the end,” he said, cheerfully and all chipper-like.

Librarians man. They’re magic.

Myself, Matthew Bright, and Thom Seddon. We’re in the back corner. Like I said, I’m an introvert.

That, or the obviously queer dude had excellent gaydar (not to mention the less-than-subtle clue in the form of my pride shirt). Once at the event proper, I checked out the spread and then settled in, doing that introvert thing you do at events where you smile at other introverts and hope someone else will make the first move of saying hello (but also secretly hope no one does), right up until you’re rescued by extroverts who realize it’s a room full of authors and do things like, “Hey, ‘Nathan, have you met Thom before? This is Thom! Thom is an amazing poet and author and drag queen and you two will get along great!” and then they vanish to find another introvert in need, like Batman, only they’re outgoing instead of just seriously psychologically compromised by trauma.

(Of note, QtS put on a proper spread of cookies, shortbread, candy, hot water and all the bits for coffee and tea, and since I’m normally the sort working hard to balance out my hydration and blood sugar I really appreciate events that do this. As I’d had a Full. English. Breakfast. I only needed a quick visit or two to the tables, but major thumbs up for this.)

And then the clock struck starting time, everyone was seated and ready, and it began!

The thing about literary events is how fast they go. Even though each panel had just under an hour to talk, it felt like no time at all before the first panel—on embracing diversity within the rainbow in narratives—and the second panel—weaving darker elements into queer narratives—were done and we were breaking for lunch. My notebook was already filling up with titles and authors I wanted to read, and it was clear this was going to be a great event, because it was just as clear this wasn’t a Queer 101 kind of event.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy literary events a great deal, but there’s something special about heading to a literary event that’s specifically queer that I don’t think I can overstate. The shorthand is already there. The baseline shared experience of queerness is built in to the foundation of every discussion. We can say things like, “bury your gays” or “very special episode” and everyone in the room knows what we’re talking about. The first two panels touched on this quite a bit—how we’re finally getting to write broader narratives because we’re no longer trying to “make up” for what came before, when the mainstream stories about us weren’t written by us, and thus were servings of warnings and tragedy every time. We get to play in the shadows more now because we’ve also written enough light that it doesn’t become a problematic addition to an unrelenting message of queerness as tragedy or suffering.

Also, when we do it ourselves, we can make it both dark and light.

Simon Smalley’s green carnation is the best.

Needless to say, by lunch I was vibrating and happy, and I got to increase my bearded men photo collection because I got to meet Simon Smalley! I’ve raved about his biography before, but this was the first time I got to meet him face to face, and he, Matt and I went out to lunch together (a small cafe snack and hot chocolate once again because Full. English. Breakfast.) and had a wonderful discussion of our various experiences as men of our certain ages—the three of us being from different decades—and it was another one of those affirming queer moments I’ll treasure for the rest of my life.

Of course, the lady at the table beside us was maybe a little shellshocked by some of our conversations—normies, what can you do?—but in our defence she was wearing earphones so we figured she couldn’t hear us. Not our fault they weren’t on, and she decided to listen in.

Heading back to the library for the second half of the program, we were lulled away from a post-lunch food coma by Rosie Wilby, who was freaking hilarious and not at all intimidating to follow (read: very intimidating to follow) because then I was up moderating a panel called Creative Crossroads, which was about queer art and entertainment from multiple directions.

The panel I moderated. From left to right: C.J. Debarra, K.C. Lylark, Simon Smalley, Hope Newhouse and Thom Seddon (then me).

My panelists included C.J. Debarra (a queer historian and journalist), Hope Newhouse (audiobook performer), K.C. Lylark (an illustrator), Simon Smalley (autobiographist), and Thom Seddon (poet, writer, drag queen) and if that sounds intimidating all on its own, believe me, it was. These people were brilliant, and the notion of trying to cover all those phenomenal ways we speak and share art as queer people terrified the heck out of me, but of course, it turned out just fine. Because they are, indeed, phenomenal artists of their wide variety of artistic endeavours, my job came down to basically saying “look how awesome they are!” over and over. Their answers to every question I tossed their way fascinated on so many levels, and the time just shot by.

Also, I added half a dozen books to my to-be-read list (including learning Simon Smalley’s sequel is on its way, this November!)

Ten minutes later I was back in the chair, only this time as a panelist, talking cross-genre writing, and with E.V. Bancroft at the helm we had a great time answering questions about various genres, sub-genres, and the rules (and if you can break the rules) involved in genres. My fellow panelists were Clare Ashton (who has the dryest, funniest wit), Jourdyn Kelly (fellow introvert who also has a wonderful wit and delivers the greatest deadpan ever), Matthew Bright (who you already know I love, but had some really great insights on so many genres), and Robyn Nyx (who told the best story about pseudonyms, reader expectations, and how we as writers so often write with spite in our hearts—in, y’know, a good way).

We broke to give the readers some time to check out the tables, and for them to get their books signed—an impromptu discussion of having difficulty thinking of what to write in books happened among the authors, and I imparted the wisdom given to me by authors who came before: have three quick-and-on-theme options at hand for each book, and you’ll never be caught up short—and then we were back in the room (and I’d already bought three books myself, because I cannot resist and have the willpower of a flea).

The panel on love-and-lust was next, and the sheer laughter that flowed with this one was a delight. Who needs double entendres when you can deliver single entendres instead? Jo Fletcher moderated this panel, and the authors were to a person funny-as-all-hell, and I loved that for a panel about erotica and romance.

Julie Cohen and I on the Writers Without Borders panel.

Then, finally, I got wander back up to the front for the final panel of the day (which had somehow already arrived), which was about writing across borders, or specifically about writing inclusively, and was a really fascinating discussion, and one with more nuance than I’m used to seeing at non-queer literary events precisely because of that vibe I was talking about earlier, where things are beyond the Queer 101 stage as a starting point. Brey Willows kept the conversation from getting too heavy and dark, which was another nice counter-point to the usual way I see these discussions go, and Robyn Nyx’s questions were really on point. Hope Newhouse had really fascinating things to say about intersection, voice, and audio performing (a point of view I hadn’t thought of before), and also brought up that awkward dance of “um, if you’re looking for an ownvoice person, here’s what I represent” we often find ourselves performing. Julie Cohen brought a major breadth of traditional publishing experience to the topic—and the broadness to choices and decisions each individual book situation brings to the table—and Jourdyn Kelly’s notes about lived experience were really touching. All in all, it was a great time, and quite a lovely point to end the panels and discussions on.

But the evening wasn’t done yet.

Oh, sure, follow that. Me, reading from Stuck With You in the Nottingham Central Library

After another short break for buying and signing books, we relocated to the main lobby, which was prepped for an after-party. Pizza was ordered, and the phenomenal Rosie Wilby took to the stage, where she performed her amazing comedic routines and had us all laughing in no time at all.

But also, my stomach was starting to tie itself into knots.

See, I’d agreed happily to do a reading at this evening, and now I realized the reality of that included following Rosie Wilby, Hope Newhouse, and Julie Cohen. Y’know, a professional comedian, a professional audiobook performer, and a bestselling author.

No pressure.

Thankfully, Robyn Nyx broke up the various readings with breaks for chatting, hitting the bar, and also eating the pizza, so it wasn’t a case of walking up right after three phenomenal women had done their thing. I particularly appreciated Robyn managing expectations in her introduction of me, which included, “we couldn’t afford a professional performer for the boy books, so here’s the author himself…” which had the room (and me) laughing before I even started, because… yeah. That said, I used every drop of skills I learned from Melissa Brayden, chose a dialog-heavy scene, and performed my little heart out reading from Stuck With You, and was particularly chuffed to get lovely applause and for Robyn’s outro including “Actually, never mind, we did get a performer…”

Which is to say, it went really well, people were very kind about it, and I sank back into my seat grateful for the whole day. More readings followed, more pizza, more laughter, and then…

Well. All good things, right?

When was the last time you felt seen or supported? A wall display from inside the Kaleidoscopic Realms exhibit, with the title “When was the last time you felt seen or supported?” written above pegs were visitors can hang their own art.

The day after Queer the Shelves was mostly a recovery day for me, though Matthew Bright hung round in town long enough for us to have a nice amble around, hit a pub and an art and craft fair before he jetted off to Cairo. I hit a chippie for dinner that night because I am an ex-pat Brit and there are some things that just don’t happen on my side of the ocean, and allowed myself an evening in to recover the social battery.

The rest of my time in Nottingham was lovely, mostly spent in museums or on long walks, but I did want to bring up one part of my journey that really stuck with me. I went to the site of the former Nottingham Castle, which is now a multi-disciplinary museum, and in one gallery they had a exhibition called Kaleidoscopic Realms, which featured all marginalized artists (in this case, disabled and neurodivergent artists), and at the end of the exhibit was a wall set up for those who’d toured the event to sit down and scribble some art of their own.

The idea behind Kaleidoscopic Realms was being seen and being supported.

So, I sat down, picked up the pencils and started drawing. I’m by no means a skilled artist, though I like to draw little cartoony things now and then, and I can draw things I look at with some level of accuracy. But as I sat there, scribbling away, I realized the last few days had been full of being seen and supported, and I had an image in mind immediately, which I set about to drawing.

Seen, Supported

And ultimately, this was it.

It took twenty-one hours, three plane delays, two trains too many, and multiple attempts to change tickets over wi-fi to get there, but Queer the Shelves was worth every moment of it. Coming home, there was only one hitch—the Heathrow Express was just flat-out-cancelled—but by that point I was almost expecting something to go wrong, and shrugged it off as just another anecdote that would be funny in a day or two. I got on the flight, alternatively listening to Julie Cohen’s “Bad Men” and reading Thom Seddon’s “Choose Your Own Mediocrity” as whimsy took me, and despite my social battery being pretty much dry, a different power source was completely restored.

Queerness can be isolating.

Gathering with a bunch of queer people, though? Being seen, and supported, and heard, and visible, and joyful—and furious and angry and sorrowful, too—but refusing to be forgotten or erased or having our stories told by other people or actively untold?

That’s powerful. Just like us.

…and a Roundup for Pride Month

Hey all! It’s ghost of Pride Past me writing a final scheduled post while I’m away, and I thought given I’ve brought up two different recommendations for Pride all month long—which is perhaps less than efficient—that I’d take a moment here to collect all the titles in one post here.

Here are the books I talked about this month:

All the hits…

Anthologies and Collections:
Stories to Sing in the Dark, by Matthew Bright
We Mostly Come Out at Night: 15 Queer Tales of Monsters, Angels, & Other Creatures, edited by Rob Costello
The Voyages of Cinrak the Dapper, by A.J. Fitzwater
Skin Deep Magic, by Craig Laurance Gidney
Lot: Stories, by Bryan Washington
Mercedes General, by Jerry L. Wheeler

Biography:
Crooked Letter i, edited by Connie Griffin
Judge Me, Judge Me Not, by James Merrick
That Boy Of Yours Wants Looking At, by Simon Smalley

Fantasy and Science Fiction:
Awakenings, by Claudie Arseneault
Baker Thief, by Claudie Arseneault
The Beast Without, by Christian Baines
Sacred Band, by Joseph D. Carriker Jr.
Hell’s Belle, by Marie Castle
Soul’s Blood, by Stephen Graham King
The Final Decree, by Jeffrey Ricker
One Verse Multi, by Sander Santiago
White Trash Warlock, by David R. Slayton
Better off Red, by Rebekah Weatherspoon
Pangs, by Jerry L. Wheeler
Spinning Tales, by Brey Willows

Graphic Novels:
New Mutants: Lethal Legion, by Charlie Jane Anders
You Brought Me the Ocean, by Alex Sanchez
Cheer Up! Love and Pompoms, by Crystal Frasier

Hi-Lo YA:
Cub, by Paul Coccia
Losing Hit Points, by Kristopher Mielke

Horror:
Skin, by Christian Baines

Literature & Fiction:
Proud Pink Sky, by Redfern Jon Barrett
The Firflake, by Anthony Cardno
At Swim, Two Boys, by Jamie O’Neill
The One That Got Away, by Carol Rosenfeld

Mystery, Thriller, or Caper:
Straight Lies, by Rob Byrnes
Bourbon Street Blues, by Greg Herren
Murder in the Rue Dauphine, by Greg Herren
A Calculated Risk, by Cari Hunter*
The Back Passage, by James Lear
Retirement Plan, by Martha Miller*
Stolen Ambitions, by Robyn Nyx
Death by the Riverside, by J.M. Redmann
24/7, by Yolanda Wallace
Trigger, by Jessica L. Webb*

Nonfiction:
Hi Honey, I’m Homo! by Matt Baume

Romance:
All I Want for Christmas, by Georgia Beers, Maggie Cummings, and Fiona Riley
Snowflakes and Song Lyrics, by Hank Edwards
Crimes of Passion, Jack Harbon*
Mangos and Mistletoe, by Adriana Herrera
Hard Sell, by Hudson Lin
Take Me Home, by Hudson Lin
A Convenient Arrangement, by Aurora Rey and Jaime Clevenger*
Femme Tales, Anne Shade
One and Done, by Frederick Smith
The Ghost Slept Over, by Marshall Thornton*
The Boss of Her, by M. Ullrich, Julie Canon, and Aurora Rey
Xeni, by Rebekah Weatherspoon*

TTRPG:
Freedom City, by Steve Kenson

YA:
Lily, by Michael Thomas Ford
Kiss & Tell, by Adib Khorram*
The Unwanted, by Jeffrey Ricker

* Denotes books I listened to as audiobooks.

Happy Pride! And remember, next month? Next month it’s wrath.