Connie Anne McEntee's Blog

Being a writer of young adult fiction, I will often visit the web sites of high schools to see what their rules are. Inevitably, I come across dress code policies, some of which seem to be based on little more than stereotypes, classism, racism, and sexism.

For instance, what does it mean when a school’s dress code forbids clothing “affiliated with street activity”? Most likely, this is a sanitized reference to street gangs. Colors such as blue and red are also often forbidden, for much the same reason.

The adversarial theologian that I am thinks that organizations such as San Francisco Night Ministry (SFNM) should create blue-and-red T-shirts to sell as fundraisers and kids should wear these to their schools. Then, it becomes religious expression and, in theory, should be protected as free speech in spite of the colors and the fact that the shirts would indeed be “affiliated with street activity,” as the ministers of SFNM walk the streets of San Francisco every night from 10pm till 2am, providing pastoral care to those who would be called “street people.”

Of course, that’s not the type of activity these rules are codified to oppose. It seems the rules are written in these ways to avoid charges of classism and racism. But what if there was a Wiccan student who wanted to wear red on Beltaine in honor of that sacred day? What of Catholic students who wanted to wear blue head coverings in honor of the Blessed Virgin Mary? What if that black, pullover hoodie is for a local synagogue that’s been vandalized by nazi fascists?

Zero-tolerance policies might seem like a good idea, but they can remove rational thought from the process. They can be completely reactionary. That said, I don’t have answers, but I will add that a zero-tolerance policy for Confederate flags and nazi symbols is something I support completely and utterly just I have zero-tolerance for anti-trans bigots and heterosexual supremacists.

There has got to be a better way to minimize problematic behavior without using blanket policies.

As NaNoWriMo approaches, I find that I’ve narrowed down my novels choices to these two options:

1. A story of a chain-smoking mermaid in exile living in San Francisco.

2. A Satanic answer to the Left Behind series, in which Satan rises to care for those who aren’t Raptured before, during, and after the Apocalypse.

Any votes?

Recently, I was going through the “eBooks” folder on my computer, looking for things to add to my Nook for reading on my daily commutes. I came across the PDF for a book called Otros Valles by Jamie Berrout. I’ve had it tucked away in this folder for so long, I don’t remember when I downloaded it, but I probably learned about it from the trans message board I used to frequent. It’s the story of a trans Latina in her early twenties.

Some of the details I can’t relate to. The main character began her transition much younger than I did, and in a culture quite different from my own. I’m only part-way through the book, so I’m not sure exactly how supportive her parents are.

I just started chapter seven, and the first paragraph mentions struggling with names. I got to the end of that paragraph, and I’m close to tears. I can relate to the issue of names, and how there are times when they need to be chosen with care. I was moved nearly to tears because this short paragraph reminded me of one of my biggest transition regrets: the decision to not use the name my mother had selected for me if had been designated female at birth: Karen.

I never got to be raised a daughter in my mother’s house. That still haunts me, even if I can be that daughter now.

In the wee hours of a recent night, I had a dream that I think will lend itself to a cute short story. The story was from the POV of a white trans woman, which is no marvel since that’s what I am. But one of the other persons in this dream was a man of color. Should I keep this detail intact as I write?

I ask because of various reasons. First, there is the concept of “nothing about us without us.” Creators of various media are cautioned, if not forbidden, from including characters that are from cultures other than one’s own. But at the same time, white authors come under fire if their casts are too white.

Second, there is the relationship that evolves over the course of this dream plot. From the people I’ve known, I’ve encountered widely differing ideas regarding relationships and race as well as gender. It seems that there could be taboos that are not to be ignored … except when there aren’t. What are the borders? Talking to people and researching reveals completely conflicting answers.

In some ways, the races of the characters as they occurred in my dream didn’t seem to affect the direction of the story in any way. But at the same time, I know how frustrated I get when I see a dearth of trans or gender-expansive characters in media. With that in mind, it could be important to let races as I dreamed them stand. But if I do that, I violate the “nothing about us without us” idea.

The third draft of my second novel is done, and I’m searching for beta readers/proofreaders.

The story is about a trans teen in her final year of high school. She’s a minor character from my first novel, but reading that one is not necessary to following this one (or, it shouldn’t be if I wrote it correctly).

If anyone is interested, please let me know and I’ll email you a PDF of it. It’s about 180 pages single-spaced including the author’s note.

I went through some interesting editorial feedback when I was getting Waking for Hours published. Many of the grammar rules that I had been taught in school —way back between 1975 and 1988— seemed to be regarded as obsolete. Not only was I told to replace the word “alright” with the phrase “all right,” I was told I was using too many commas.

What was particularly striking about this feedback was the suggestion that since I was writing a young adult novel, I should keep the grammar structure simplistic, and that the current vernacular allowed for fewer commas. Too many commas would confuse young adult readers, I was told.

Wait … what?

This feedback, which I foolishly followed, was inherently ageist. It implied that young adult readers would not be able to follow the sentence structure. Yet not using commas in places where they were actually needed would change the meaning of the sentence. If I were speaking, one wouldn’t necessarily “hear” the commas. But the inflection of my speaking would imply their existence and keep the meaning of what I was saying intact. Removing these commas, these visual cues, actually corrupted the meaning.

There were times when I removed commas against my better judgment and times when I left them there in spite of what the editor had suggested. But what struck me the most was the condescending way the editor suggesting formatting reading material for young adults. They even agreed that what I’d learned wasn’t wrong, per se, but that it would be “confusing.” It was as if this editor felt that young adults weren’t able to parse English grammar.

If I do a second edition of Waking for Hours, I’ll correct this feedback and use commas as they should be used to preserve the clarity of what I’d written. And, I’ll be doing the same as I continue to work on the my second and all future books.

Well, it's been over a year since my last update to this blog. Wow, a lot has happened since September 2014.

Not long after moving to campus housing at seminary, I truly fell in love with the person I'd been dating, Anne. I moved in with her before then end of the Fall 2014 semester. We were married on Valentine's Day 2015, at PantheaCon. It was also that night that my new wife received her first degree initiation in the Circle of Cerridwen (Open Source Alexandrian Tradition of Wicca) and I received my third degree and ordination as a high priest and teacher of the Tradition. How does that tie into writing (this is Goodreads, after all)? Well, I have a blog devoted to my ministry.

Anne became critically ill at the start of November 2015, and as a result my focus shifted from being a seminarian to being on the hunt for a job that would allow me to provide for our family. I'll be taking a leave of absence from seminary for next semester, too, hopefully returning in Fall 2016. The job search conintues, but hasn't yielded much yet. (If any of you know of any possible tech/customer service/adminstrative assistant jobs in the San Francisco Bay Area, here's my LinkedIn profile. If you are able and willing, please either contribute to our GoFundMe or please share the link.) I've had some temp jobs, and our friends are really coming through for us. But I need a new full-time job.

The upside to not currently working on my seminary studies is that I have more time to write. The follow-up novel to Waking for Hours|17085043 is still in progress, though I hope to have the third draft done by the end of the year. I think I'll need at least one more draft after that, but we'll see.

I'll try to be better about updating this blog in 2016. In the meantime, happy reading and writing!

Toward the end of orientation at seminary, I attended a workshop about writing as a spiritual practice. One of the phrases that stayed in my mind was:

Hiding In The Light

This is a great way to describe at least part of the trans experience. We can be everywhere, and yet we might not be seen. Or, we might not be seen for who we truly are. It can be even worse for those who have a non-binary gender identity.

The phrase "hiding in the light" can also be a great way to describe what it's like to have key parts of one's identity erased. Yes, I see much online as people try to address such issues as bisexual erasure, asexual erasure, aromantic erasure. But not so much for pansexual/panromantic erasure, demisexual/demiromantic erasure. The list can go on.

So, I issue this writing prompt not only for myself, but for all other persons who feel that significant parts of their lives are not seen or recognized by others, even as we live them on a daily basis.

Well, if all goes well I could still have the second draft of my second novel ready by the summer solstice. But that goal might need to slip.

I've been accepted to grad school, seminary to be precise: the Pacific School of Religion in Berkeley, CA. And as I could be starting classes in July, my writing goals will have to become second priority to my coursework.

There's also the fact that I'll be moving some time this summer, but I don't yet know where or when precisely. As the type of person who usually plans the living daylights out of things, to have so many unknowns in my future is a very uncomfortable feeling.

*deep breath*

Here we go.

The Bechdel Test has three criteria to test a story for gendered diversity.

1. There must be at least two female characters,
2. they must talk with each other,
3. and they must talk about something other than a male character.

It's been very intesting to apply this test to my favorite books and movies, determining which pass and which fail. But can this test really be applied to stories that revolve around relationships, especially heterosexual relationship? Maybe in such stories this is not the best method for testing for gendered diversity.

And, what about in stories that revolve around the romantic and sexual relationships of queer persons? Does a lesbian romance still pass the Bechdel Test if two female characters are talking with each other about another female character? What if the story revolves around a gay male romance? What about if two bisexual female characters are talking about the male and female characters that they're in love with?

How is the Bechdel Test applied in the case of relationships involving trans characters, or characters with non-binary or undeclared gender identities?

Overall I think the Bechdel Test can be applied to a wide variety of stories, but in romance stories I think it gets a little trickier. There are times when I talk with a woman about a man. Does this conversation fail the Bechdel Test? And if so, does it fail because of the subject matter of the conversation, because I'm a pre-op male-to-female trans person, or both?

Now, maybe it's silly to try and apply the Bechdel Test to real-life conversations. After all, the Bechdel Test is about representation in media. But shouldn't the stories in the media represent aspects of real life? If so, then maybe there will be times when it's acceptable to break this test.

I'm not suggesting the Bechdel Test is flawed. On the contrary, I intend to apply it to all my future works. But I don't think that it should be the only test with regards to properly portraying female characters. It's a great starting point. And maybe we need to add new tests that can supplement the Bechdel Test.