Witch of Lurago Chapter 43: Edgar

Sensitivity and inclusiveness in writing has been a trending topic for authors and publishers for a while now, and rightly so. With the viral debate over novels such as American Dirt and The Continent, being mindful of how we write characters different from ourselves is at the forefront of almost any author’s mind.

But Rootstock Saga is just fantasy, right? It’s set on a future world. These people, cultures, religions, and institutions don’t exist yet. So surely a future world fantasy gets a pass on such critiques.

No, it doesn’t. And no, it shouldn’t.

Rootstock Saga is a character-driven story that demanded writing diverse, compelling and authentic characters into the ensemble. This meant creating characters of difference races, genders, ages, and physical characteristics. So, of course, there would be diversity in their sexual orientations, too.

Edgar is gay. He isn’t the first Rootstock character for whom being gay was relevant enough to be noted. Rene Kerjean and Geoffrey Langdon’s relationship played a role in connecting Nigel with the Brotherhood and the Awakening back in Legend of the Storm Hawks. Several of the Firstborn characters have matter-of-factly expressed their duality of nature. And there are other, less obvious supporting characters such as Old Mona, Cyril Callan, and Lothor Camran. In their story lines, it seemed superfluous to point out their sexuality because it wasn’t a defining trait for any of them, no more than their eye color, height, or accents.

Edgar’s story line is one in which it does matter, though. We’ve followed the children of his generation through their coming of age, and we’re invested in the friendship he and Cade share. And although being gay would carry no stigma if he lived in Tallu, Wodi, or Twelvestones, it does in Rhynn.

Dealing with that stigma is part of his story arc.

The only tough decision in writing these chapters was how to portray Professor Milward. I hesitated over having him take advantage of Cade, but like everyone and everything else in these books, no individual or group gets to be all good or all bad. So yeah, Milward is an unsavory fellow who furthers Edgar’s story, then fades away. In Ellard, those still carrying on the Pelican’s legacy make sure Milward leaves town without involving the constable.

Because, after all, this is Rhynn.

I like to think Milward learned from his mistake.

On the broader scale, characters in the Rootstock Saga ensemble come from the far ends of the social and economic spectrum. Princes and slaves. Rhiem and servants. Micos and merchants. Warriors and farmers.

Privilege of birth is not a protective castle wall when it comes to life’s challenges. Some of the highest born are hearing or vision impaired. Others have speech impediments or learning disabilities. Several face physical or mental health challenges.

Because I’m one author crafting hundreds of characters, I can’t have experienced every one of the challenges or privileges depicted. Certainly not as authentically as someone who shared those traits.

But the alternative would be leaving out any trait I haven’t personally experienced. And be critiqued for a lack of diversity.

I think the key to striking a balance between inclusiveness and sensitivity in fiction is, first of all, giving yourself at least some credit for considering the importance of doing so. Secondly, it’s about crafting multi-dimensional characters with relatable flaws and virtues, so that no single trait defines them.

That’s a pretty good anti-definition of stereotyping. No cardboard tokens allowed. Feel free to cut-and-paste the preceding paragraph.

“Language can be a potent force for good—or evil. It matters what we say, and how we say it. And writing matters even more than speech. Our words live on the page long after spoken words are forgotten.”

Help Your Writing Be Sensitive and Inclusive, Intelligent Editing, 2019.