The Challenges of Writing LGBTQ Romance
Through seven long-form published works and dozens of short stories, my challenge each time I sit down and put pen to paper is trying to reinvent the LGBTQ romantic wheel. Or at the very least, finding a truthful and honest way to portray the joy – and pain – of achieving lasting same-sex intimacy. To this day, publishers seem to be narrowly focused on dysfunction when telling our stories. The characters seem to be looking for love in all the wrong places and are stymied by self-loathing and self-destructive behavior. Too many LGBTQ-themed novels fall into this category. I’m sure such people exist, but it seems to reinforce the stereotype that we’re doomed to lives of loneliness and frustration, while the maladjusted queers I know, are no more tortured and pitiable than my straight friends.
At the other end of the LGBTQ narrative spectrum is the narrowly focused rom-com genre, centered on well-scrubbed, middle-class gay/lesbian urban, overwhelmingly white professionals living in a fantasyland where their biggest obstacle to intimacy is some innocuous and easily resolvable misunderstanding that’s eventually overcome and followed by eternal bliss.
I’ve nothing against rom-coms. Or happy endings. I’ve written a couple myself. But I’ve tried to give the characters dimension – backstories, families, and professions that define who they are. And minefields. Plenty of them. The course of true love is a pitted road. And lasting love has to be fought for and earned.
In the novels Love on the Jersey Shore and The Rushes, I honored such venerable tropes as meet-cute or love/hate at first sight and gave them a fresh spin. Both are homages to classic romantic (originally heterosexual) tales, so I had a solid structure on which to build. All great love stories (e.g. Romeo and Juliet) lend themselves to being updated and reconfigured. (No, I’m not going to name the sources, except to say that the plotline in one of those novels will hit you right between the eyes halfway through). Though the originals were chaste, in updating, the sexual attraction is more contemporary and overt. But lust is only one element. To achieve long-term happiness, the would-be lovers must be tested. Complications must be overcome. And when they finally do, the conclusions are all the more satisfying.
In my other novels and novellas, I chose LGBTQ stories I’d never seen before. I refer to these works as romantic life journeys told through a queer lens. Café Eisenhower involves an actual journey during which our witty, self-deprecating protagonist reflects on the great joy he experienced with his lover and deals with his shattering loss.
Though a ghost, the idealized lover hovers over every page. Our hero travels to Eastern Europe to claim a mysterious inheritance and, while there, discovers a journal detailing a secret gay love affair. He learns to move past his grief by encouraging a relationship between two new female friends and has a bittersweet tryst himself. By the end, he is again ready to find love.
The death of a lover also plays a leading role in the suspense thriller, Pigeon. The protagonist, now a successful artist, returns to Italy where, years earlier, he attended art school and had a life-altering but ill-fated romance with a bisexual local. When he learns that his former paramour has been murdered, he sets out to find the killer. A romance you say? Indeed, it is. After many surprising twists and turns, and a near-death experience, the main character rectifies his past and lives happily ever after. Sorry, no spoilers.
My most recent novel, Mystery Dance, is a story of second chances. The lovers must return to the beginning of their idyllic relationship before their egos tore them apart.
A running theme in all my LGBTQ fiction is that barriers to queer romance can exist from without and within. In my historical novels like Junior Willis and my new collection, Greenwich Connection, many of the characters are faced with a hostile society where same-sex romance is verboten. Another barrier is the lack of role models. Queer couples have always existed. They’ve just been hidden, so other gay men and women have had to make up the rules as they went along. To their credit, the characters persevered – and their triumph was all the more liberating. In every instance, I have endeavored to portray the struggles realistically, without making the characters seem like victims.
In my more contemporary stories, many of those outside obstacles are gone. The inability to find love arises from ego clashes, ambition, class differences, and plain old-fashioned fear of intimacy. Queer characters differ from their straight counterparts because the love dynamics between two men or two women or between a trans and a heteronormative are unique. Again, the aim is always to tell stories with endings that uplift and satisfy queer and straight audiences alike; in which any reader can see him/her/themself in the characters: Our mutual strengths and weaknesses. Our common desire for connection, and how we sometimes get in our own way. And how, when we finally let love in, our lives become richer and more gratifying.
Nice! Some great food for thought for our romance readers and writers alike!
Thank you, Richard, for this useful article. ♥♥♥
Let’s take a look at this author’s upcoming book…
About the Book
So, what are people saying about Richard’s books?
“His dialogue and the characters’ predicament are always believable at the same time as offering a window into the unknown. I couldn’t put [it] down, but I was sad when I was done.” — Renee, Amazon
“This is a beautifully crafted novel, with characters that will remain with you long after you finish the book. Its humor and passion are subtle, yet everything is perfectly woven together to move the plot seamlessly forward. Bravo to the author!” — Lili Ungar, Amazon
“I cared so much about these characters! How lucky young gay men are to be able to read such a book. What an apt title because the heroes embody all the energy of youth even as the headwinds of career and romance batter them.” — Kathleen Brady, Amazon
And here’s a teaser from Greenwich Connection…
When, in mid-September, Titus once again snuck past the doorman and pounded on his door, Simon guessed it was him.
“You busy?” he said when Simon opened the door a crack.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I’m entertaining,” Simon replied, coldly.
“You are not. You came home alone. I know because I was taking pictures of you from across the street,” he said, pushing open the door. He ducked under Simon’s arm and entered.
“You were photographing me? Why?”
“Part of a new series. I catch people going in and out of their buildings, like a private detective gathering incriminating shots of a criminal or an adulterer. The faces and bodies are blurry, which gives them this ghost-like quality. I think you’d like them.”
“Yes. It does sound interesting,” Simon conceded, noting that his heart was clocking at above-average speed.
Control yourself, Simon.
Without asking, Titus helped himself to a beer from the refrigerator. “Imported. Fancy,” he said, scrounging through the drawers for a church key. He took two long swigs, peered out the window, and sighed.
“This has got to stop,” Titus mumbled. “It’s getting boring.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Simon asked.
“That night at Flamingo. The way you looked at the guy I was with, it was like you wanted to tear him apart. Where do you get off?”
“I can’t say as I recall.”
“You do so. You don’t own me, Simon.” Titus tossed himself into an armchair and propped his feet on the ottoman. “Did you know that the last time I cried was the day my mom went to prison? Oh wait, there was another time. After you told me I was horrible and kicked me out. Yeah, that was a tough night.”
Simon was speechless.
Titus jumped up and began pacing the room as if he were encaged. “Look, are you still in love with me?”
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
“I heard you say it. From the window. After you told me to leave.”
“Oh, I see,” Simon said, hanging his head. “A momentary lapse. You needn’t worry.”
“Then why do you keep popping up wherever I go? You’re spooking me, man.”
“In the future, I shall endeavor to make myself invisible,” Simon said with a sneer.
“Fuck you,” Titus said.
“Titus, I’ve seen you exactly twice since the beginning of the year. That hardly qualifies as stalking. And you’re the one who’s been lurking outside my building and secretly photographing me. I wonder. Was it just tonight, or have you …?
“Only once or twice,” Titus said. “I wanted to have a wide choice of shots.”
“Ah,” Simon said. “But those other times you didn’t make your presence known. Have you come up here just to upset me?”
“Oh, you’re upset? Poor baby. Ask me if I give a shit.”
“Do you? Do you give a shit?” Simon said defiantly.
“Not even a little.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“How do I know? You’re the shrink. You figure it out.”
Simon had figured it out. If he’d been a disinterested third party, he would have arrived at his diagnosis sooner. But as a participant, his objectivity had been compromised. The encounter on the beach had confirmed that they were both suffering from the same malady. Yet Simon had made no effort to contact Titus. It would have been useless. It had to be Titus’s decision or nothing would come of it.
“You know what, man? Forget you!” Titus said and bolted for the door. Simon blocked his exit. An impulsive move. As Titus reached past him for the doorknob, Simon burst out laughing.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to make light. But this is oddly reminiscent of an old romantic melodrama I watched the other day with Bette Davis. Or was it Olivia de Havilland?”
“So what’s wrong with that?” Titus said, resting his head against Simon’s chest. “Are you so uptight that you can’t put up with a little drama?”
Simon had the good sense not to irk Titus further. Instead, he enfolded him in his arms and held him tightly. Titus whimpered and, slowly, the tension left his body and he gave himself over to the embrace.
This time, the lovemaking was different, intense, and absorbing but leavened with a heaping of genuine affection, soft words, caring gestures, and penetrating stares. When it was over, they fell into a deep, restful sleep still entwined, in the wake of what, if they’d been lovers — and not just ‘fuck buddies’ — would be classified as make-up sex.
GUEST BIO
Natale won the National Playwright’s Competition for his two-act comedy-drama SHUFFLE OFF THIS MORTAL BUFFALO, which was subsequently staged in Kansas City and Los Angeles. He also wrote and directed the feature film GREEN PLAID SHIRT, which was the closing night selection at the Palm Springs Film Festival and was screened at more than a dozen film festivals worldwide.
LINKS:
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/742057.Richard_Natale
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Richard-Natale/author/B00II78KRC
Instagram & Threads: richard.natale.56
Twitter: @richardnatale3
Thanks again! We hope to see you back on ILRB sometime.
As always, happy reading, everyone! Have a great week!
