The first truly queer book I owned was an anthology of lesbian short stories that I bought at a yard sale in San Francisco, brought home and promptly hid under my bed. I was 16 and out, my parents were supportive, but having a whole world of queer stories to myself was so thrilling it felt illicit.
I was, and remain, a voracious reader. As a kid I was drawn to stories of escapism, whether it was new worlds or ways of living differently in this one, I wanted to be transported, lost in other realities. By the time I purchased that slim tome, something had shifted. I had begun to search for myself in the worlds I was escaping to, and I was coming up short more often than not. That book was a balm, and began a lifelong affair with queer literature, from classics to camp.
I still love a good escape, and delight in seeing echoes of myself and my community in the words of others. I recently happened upon a short story that casually featured gay parents, and I realized how hungry I’ve been, as a lesbian parent, to see my new reality reflected through fiction. The joy in that spark of recognition is what drives me to read in, and to write for, this wonderful community. There’s so much diversity in the stories to be told about queer lives, so many facets for exploration, and it’s the quest of a lifetime to find all the amazing authors bringing them to life.
I’m forever grateful to those giving these stories a chance, both by getting them out into the world, and by taking them in once they’re out there. Without publishers and audiences willing to take a risk on them, my world as a reader and a writer would be much less fun. And there would be far fewer books under my bed.
Julie Logwood’s story, Archival Enemies, is in SapphFic Eclectic, Volume 5.
Butterworth Books 