Crooked Words
Page 1
Words:
A Collection of Queer, Transgender and Womanist Writings
K. A. Cook
Imprint
Crooked Words: A Collection of Queer, Transgender and Womanist Writings © 2013, K. A. Cook.
This publication is under copyright. No part of this book may be copied, reproduced or distributed in print or electronic form without written consent from the copyright holder.
Contact K. A. Cook at
https://queerwithoutgender.wordpress.com.
Crooked Words is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or undead is unintentional; any resemblance to specific acts of homophobia experienced by the author likely is. Any references to persons living or undead do not necessarily espouse the views of the author.
Cover image © Kathy Mexted
‘Absent a Consonant’ © 2012 by the author. Originally published in Survival: PWE Anthology 2012, November 2012.
‘Blue Paint, Chocolate and Other Similes’ © 2011 by the author. Originally published at
https://theskimblishone.livejournal.com/, February, 2011.
‘Certain Eldritch Artefacts’ © 2010 by the author. Originally published at
https://theskimblishone.livejournal.com/, August, 2010.
‘Elysium’ © 2013 by the author. Originally published in Up Close and Personal: PWE Anthology 2013, November 2013.
‘Old-Fashioned’ © 2010 by the author. Originally published at
https://theskimblishone.livejournal.com/, September, 2010.
‘The Differently Animated and Queer Society’ © 2011 by the author. Originally published at
https://theskimblishone.livejournal.com/, February, 2011.
All previously-published works have since been edited and may differ from the original printing.
All other works are previously unpublished and original to this collection.
Table of Contents
Blurb
Author’s Note
Content Warnings
Certain Eldritch Artefacts
The Art of Letting Go
Blue Paint, Chocolate and Other Similes
Elysium
Misstery Man
Absent a Consonant
Everything in a Name
The Differently Animated and Queer Society
Old-Fashioned
Playing the Death Card
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Blurb
A young transgender magician travels the world on a quest for a mystical talking sword. A witch wonders why her would-be lovers can’t date her the old-fashioned way. A cross-dressing man meets a suit-clad soul whose gender defies definition. A non-binary zombie wishes ze were the hero in science-fiction stories. A genderqueer manservant tries to save her mentally-ill lover with a deck of tarot cards. A boy looks at himself in the mirror and ponders the fear of telling his family that his name isn’t Susan.
Crooked Words is an eclectic collection of short fiction in pursuit of the many different shades of what it means to live queer.
Author’s Note
Crooked Words came about because I had a collection of short pieces from my online writing days, a few assignment pieces with which I wanted to do something, and an ongoing cis lesbian erotic short fiction (albeit to a much lesser extent). Stories about transgender, genderqueer and non-binary characters, however? Queer stories whose main focus isn’t sexual titillation (an arguably cis/heterocentric view of queerness), but the lived reality of being queer? If we now live in a world where authors can put their work out just for the purpose of getting stories into the hands of audiences without the constraints of publishers, markets and financial considerations, then shouldn’t there be stories glorying in the freedom to challenge the gender binary? Shouldn’t there be stories, many stories, making it clear that gender-neutral pronouns are a valid, vital tool in the storyteller’s belt, that names and pronouns and expressions don’t have to match, that we exist and deserve to be literary heroes?
Crooked Words is, in essence, the act of putting my words where my mouth is: making the stories I want to see in the world accessible to the world. I want to pick up a collection that’s not just about binary masculinity; I want to pick up a collection that remembers queer identities are so much broader than two cisgender men (or women) having sex; I want to pick up a collection that has a story, here and there, about a person whose life is like mine.
So. Have stories with characters who use binary pronouns and don’t feel the need for their pronouns, names and genders to match. Have stories with characters that use gender-neutral pronouns like ‘ze’, ‘ey’ and ‘ou’. Have stories that are just about binary transgender characters or queer cis women doing things other than fuck each other.
However. Not every story is explicitly queer, or is about characters who are specified as queer, or about characters who—in the space of the story or play—deal with issues that involve or reference their queerness. Some of the stories are about mental illness, abuse, family, chronic pain and relationships. Some of the stories are about these things and queerness. No lead character is straight (sorry, I couldn’t help it), but sometimes when they’re taking to their psychologist or their mother, or are on a quest to find a magical talking sword, their sexuality, sex or gender identity isn’t relevant. Sometimes they’re talking about their dreams or fears instead. Sometimes they are an abuse-surviving feminist more than they are a genderless queer—and sometimes they are a genderless queer more than they are an abuse-surviving feminist.
Finally, a caveat: I do tend to write the kinds of stories that are or were mine to tell (with the obvious truth that fiction is fiction: to tell a story honestly does not mean having to have that exact experience, but emotional authenticity means a belonging in that spectrum or family of experience) so Crooked Words is in no way a collection encompassing all the ways in which a soul can live, feel and be queer. I hope the people who have the right to tell the many, many missing stories will someday fill the gaps.
K. A. Cook, Melbourne, 2013.
Content Warnings
This may be a surprise given the content of this collection, but I have triggers. I have a long list of things I cannot bear to come across in my reading—either because they’re often a mishandled/ignorant/oppressive approach to a sensitive and personal issue (mental illness, disability, queerness, gender, abuse, rape culture, consent, family), because I am not in a state of mind to handle the aforementioned issues even when depicted well, or because they are a more personal flashback/trauma trigger. (The numerous instances of Angel touching Buffy’s face in the early seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer make them unwatchable for me—a case of a personal trigger where the portrayal isn’t (arguably) problematic but nevertheless causes me distress.) This said, I don’t pull punches in my writing, and I write about all of the above—if I believe that mental illness sufferers are heroes, how can I not write about them and their experiences? How can I sanitise, erase and diminish my own existence by deciding that depression, self-harm and suicidal ideation are inappropriate elements of a fictional hero’s life? Isn’t that the very problem we minority creatives struggle against—this feeling that we’re not supposed to be?
I can’t write like this. I won’t. I’ve put too much effort into making myself write these stories and present them to a workshopping group or editorial panel, into making myself get past the fear that I am wrong and strange and broken and my stories shouldn’t exist, into making myself believe that I have no reason to silence myself out of fear of what other people may think. I am who I am. I won’t hide it. I won’t apologise for it.
But I also know what it is to be taken aback by the inclusion of content one may not be in the right frame of mind for, through no fault of
one’s own, now or ever.
So. I have compiled a list of content warnings so that readers can make educated choices about what they do and don’t read—educated choices about their own safety and health. I will warn for things like sexual assault references, self-harm and mental illness depictions, cisgender and binary lead characters (transgender/non-binary folk should know when they’re being forced to read about yet another fucking cis person and be able to choose accordingly) and abuse and/or family dysfunction—in short, anything that might be triggering, regardless of the story’s focus or ‘point’ in handling the material. I will never warn for things like invented or archaic gender-neutral pronoun use, queerness and queer sexuality (the online culture of warning for queer fiction is utterly abhorrent) or characters who have mental illness. I also won’t warn for consensual sexual references or swearing.
If you’re one of the fortunate ones who can read freely and prefer the surprise, skip ahead to the stories. If you’re not, please find each story’s warnings below:
Certain Eldritch Artefacts: Ageism, gender essentialism, depictions of anxiety and social anxiety. Binary lead character.
The Art of Letting Go: Family dysfunction, emotional abuse, homophobia. Cisgender lead characters.
Blue Paint, Chocolate and Other Similes: Misgendering.
Elysium: Physical and emotional abuse, family dysfunction, internalised ableism and misogyny, depictions of depression, self-harm, suicidal ideation and suicide. Cisgender lead characters.
Misstery Man: