Should I be writing about the blind?
Of course I care when a blind reader tells me she didn’t like a book of mine. I want to tell her I’m sorry, that I didn’t intend to hurt anyone’s feelings, and that I go out of my way to write only nice things about blind people. Come on, we’re talking about Daisy Hayes here!
What I don’t like, on the other hand, is when this same reader claims that I have no business writing about her predicament, not being blind myself. It’s called ‘Own-voice’ or ‘Specificity’. But this movement doesn’t make sense to me, because where will it end? I’m a man and I write about women—shouldn’t I? Or aren’t black authors allowed to create any white characters either? Please!
I guess I thought up my blind sleuth Daisy simply because I liked the challenge: to try and imagine how it must be to be blind (and a woman). For me that is the essence of storytelling: making up what you did not experience yourself in order to escape from the real world for a short while. I was always a dreamer, lost in fantasies. That’s why I also branched out into Antiquity with the Desiderata stories. It’s a rare privilege to roam the streets of Ancient Rome, using only your imagination.
So, once you’ve decided that you’re going to write about a blind protagonist, what else are you going to tell us about her? Is she a nice person? (How boring!) Or is she obnoxious? (If you’re blind yourself you can get away with that, but not me.) Is she dimwitted? (Same story.) Or is she incredibly smart? (Hey, now that’s an idea!)
As those who have read any of ‘The Blind Sleuth Mysteries’ already know, I’ve chosen that last option. Therefore the fact that Daisy Hayes is blind is not even the most interesting thing about her. I’ve created a super-intelligent sleuth as well. Just like Sherlock Holmes she possesses an uncanny insightfulness that allows her to analyze and solve every murder mystery that comes her way far better than any police drudge can.
Creating such a character is not as hard as it may seem. When I make up a story I may not know everything that is going to happen from the start, but in the end I am the one who possesses the godlike authority to decide which way the story will develop and where it will end. So I basically have the power to impart knowledge and insight to one character and withhold it from others—including the reader. Therefore creating an exceptionally talented sleuth is not all that difficult.
But then the next problem arises. A blind protagonist and a sleuth who has all the answers can rapidly become quite tedious. I have to make sure I don’t bore you with all the details of Daisy’s disability all the time, and likewise not let her have all the answers all the time. I need to find a balance there. If you’ve read any of my books you’ll have noticed that sometimes I hardly seem aware of my sleuth’s blindness for long stretches, until some striking difficulty arises from it, which I seize on to illustrate her predicament in an interesting way… Fact is that Daisy’s blindness has a far greater tedium potential than her uncanny smartness.
I guess what I’m trying to say is this: questioning the right of a sighted author to write about a blind protagonist is beside the point. The only thing that matters is the kind of skills set you need to write successfully about anything. The real question is whether you possess that or not. A blind author is not necessarily more qualified than any other to engage our interest for a blind protagonist in a work of fiction, and to keep doing this time and again over the length of a whole series of novels.
So the answer is yes, I do believe that I should continue writing about the blind for as long as it can engage my interest, and yours.
What I don’t like, on the other hand, is when this same reader claims that I have no business writing about her predicament, not being blind myself. It’s called ‘Own-voice’ or ‘Specificity’. But this movement doesn’t make sense to me, because where will it end? I’m a man and I write about women—shouldn’t I? Or aren’t black authors allowed to create any white characters either? Please!
I guess I thought up my blind sleuth Daisy simply because I liked the challenge: to try and imagine how it must be to be blind (and a woman). For me that is the essence of storytelling: making up what you did not experience yourself in order to escape from the real world for a short while. I was always a dreamer, lost in fantasies. That’s why I also branched out into Antiquity with the Desiderata stories. It’s a rare privilege to roam the streets of Ancient Rome, using only your imagination.
So, once you’ve decided that you’re going to write about a blind protagonist, what else are you going to tell us about her? Is she a nice person? (How boring!) Or is she obnoxious? (If you’re blind yourself you can get away with that, but not me.) Is she dimwitted? (Same story.) Or is she incredibly smart? (Hey, now that’s an idea!)
As those who have read any of ‘The Blind Sleuth Mysteries’ already know, I’ve chosen that last option. Therefore the fact that Daisy Hayes is blind is not even the most interesting thing about her. I’ve created a super-intelligent sleuth as well. Just like Sherlock Holmes she possesses an uncanny insightfulness that allows her to analyze and solve every murder mystery that comes her way far better than any police drudge can.
Creating such a character is not as hard as it may seem. When I make up a story I may not know everything that is going to happen from the start, but in the end I am the one who possesses the godlike authority to decide which way the story will develop and where it will end. So I basically have the power to impart knowledge and insight to one character and withhold it from others—including the reader. Therefore creating an exceptionally talented sleuth is not all that difficult.
But then the next problem arises. A blind protagonist and a sleuth who has all the answers can rapidly become quite tedious. I have to make sure I don’t bore you with all the details of Daisy’s disability all the time, and likewise not let her have all the answers all the time. I need to find a balance there. If you’ve read any of my books you’ll have noticed that sometimes I hardly seem aware of my sleuth’s blindness for long stretches, until some striking difficulty arises from it, which I seize on to illustrate her predicament in an interesting way… Fact is that Daisy’s blindness has a far greater tedium potential than her uncanny smartness.
I guess what I’m trying to say is this: questioning the right of a sighted author to write about a blind protagonist is beside the point. The only thing that matters is the kind of skills set you need to write successfully about anything. The real question is whether you possess that or not. A blind author is not necessarily more qualified than any other to engage our interest for a blind protagonist in a work of fiction, and to keep doing this time and again over the length of a whole series of novels.
So the answer is yes, I do believe that I should continue writing about the blind for as long as it can engage my interest, and yours.
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