Mark David, in his own words: “I was recently invited to participate in a panel on queer writing as part of the Portland Book Festival, and my first response was, “Why me?”
“I’m truly honored,” I wrote back, “and I’m very open to participating. Just to be clear, though, most of my writing probably could not be characterized as ‘queer writing,’ other than the fact that ‘queer-I’ wrote it!”
I went on to explain that although my newest fiction series featured gay characters whose stories were integral to the plot, I wouldn’t characterize the novels as “gay fiction.” As well, I continued, my sexuality might figure in my memoir and, parenthetically, in some of my other nonfiction, but it was hardly front and center in those books. I concluded by noting that even though I had published a couple of gay erotic romance stories under a pen name, they did not represent my primary focus.
“A perfect candidate for the panel!” the organizer exclaimed.
“Really!?” I exclaimed in turn when I read Kate’s email. And then I wondered: Am I a “gay writer,” or am I a writer who happens to be gay? And, apart from the obvious, what does it really mean to me to be gay?
Before I answer the questions, here’s a Cliff’s Notes version of my story. I came out in 1975, just before my 21st birthday. Twenty-two years later, I fell in love with a woman, got married and had a daughter. After the marriage ended — six years later for reasons unrelated to sexual orientation — I resumed my “gay life” and ultimately wrote my books that include queer content.
Before Kate approached me, I would have answered those questions by saying that I’m a writer who happens to be gay and that, based on what I write, I’m no more a gay writer than I am a Canadian-born writer, a Jewish writer or a Portland-based writer.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that just as my Canadian and Jewish roots inform everything I write, whether or not my books have Canadian or Jewish content (some do), my sexuality and all that derives from it also informs everything I write. How could it not?
Regardless of the plots and themes of my essays, books and screenplays, everything about me — my history, my nationalities, where I live and who and how I love — is in everything I write. More than that, these essential parts of me express themselves in how I live, how I relate to others and how I relate to the world. Of course they do. How could they not?
I am a Canadian-born writer.
I am a Jewish writer.
I am a gay writer. How could I not be?”