Guest Post: J.D. Moyer on Writer's Workshops with Kim Stanley Robinson

We can do better. 

I spend my working week with both survivors and perpetrators of physical and sexual abuse, and consider myself privileged that these survivors trust in me to help them, and I’m dedicated in bringing the perpetrators to justice.

Leaving that behind at the end of the working day is tough, and I often find myself reaching to fiction to shut off and “˜decompress’. Often though, my work finds me in literature and I despair.

We’ve all read those stories: characters beaten, raped, sexually assaulted and they often rise from the ashes stronger and resolute, or they become a broken husk. The sexual assault is often used as a plot element (or, dare I say it, trope) to move the main narrative forward but seldom given the actual scrutiny it deserves. Often too, the abuse is used to push forward a “˜revenge’ plotline or used as a reason as to why that person is “˜weird/broken/*insert derogatory descriptor here*’ and told from the point of view of an outsider with no empathy or understanding as to what they have gone through ““ a character backstory used to explain or excuse actions rather than feeding into the story.

Rarely do we hear the stories of those who are just trying to live with what has happened. Those with PTSD who are still healing. Those who can’t get justice or revenge or those who, for a myriad of reasons, choose not to, but still have to live with the consequences of what happened. Those who are still adapting to the changes forced on them, or the trauma that they have to live with every day.

Sexual violence is prevalent in both fiction and reality (1)(2), and while I’m grateful we have the #MeToo movement and increased visibility and voices in reality, we have a long way to go in addressing the long-term effects of sexual violence on a person. PTSD in sexual abuse survivors is also higher than the average population (3).

It is unfair of me to point fingers at books that get sexual violence “˜wrong’ or use it as a titillating teaser, so instead I’m going to share two books in the SF&F genre with realistic survivor reactions and ongoing PTSD/abuse aftermath that I really recommend.

DEERSKIN by Robin McKinley

As Princess Lissla Lissar reaches womanhood, it is clear to all the kingdom that in her beauty she is the image of her dead mother, the queen. But this likeness forces her to flee from her father’s lust and madness; and in the pain and horror of that flight she forgets who she is and what it is she flees from: forgets almost everything but the love and loyalty of her dog, Ash, who accompanies her. But a chance encounter on the road leads to a job in another king’s kennels, where the prince finds himself falling in love with the new kennel maid . . . and one day he tells her of a princess named Lissla Lissar, who had a dog named Ash.

The main character is sexually abused by her father near the beginning of the book, and the story shows her wrestling with this experience and learning to heal at her pace and in her own way.

A fantastic story with a clear message. You can survive sexual abuse. It will change you forever, but you can live despite that.

TENDER MORSELS by Margo Lanagan

Tender Morsels is a dark and vivid story, set in two worlds and worrying at the border between them. Liga lives modestly in her own personal heaven, a world given to her in exchange for her earthly life. Her two daughters grow up in this soft place, protected from the violence that once harmed their mother. But the real world cannot be denied forever””magicked men and wild bears break down the borders of Liga’s refuge. Now, having known Heaven, how will these three women survive in a world where beauty and brutality lie side by side?

A mix of fairy tale and fantasy, but most definitely for adults, this novel explores Liga’s childhood and abuse at the hands of her father. It shows us rape, miscarriages, pregnancy and how Liga becomes an incredible mother, overcoming the violence of the children’s conceptions. Have I included spoilers? Not really. Her journey is the story. Harrowing, but wonderful in the way the prose gives us hope even through unrelenting darkness.

Both of these show childhood trauma and sexual abuse, which can be very different to adult sexual abuse (and, to a certain extent, domestic abuse). I really tried to think of some good, solid stories that focused on an adult journeying through sexual violence PTSD but came up short.  Recommendations warmly received!

When writing ANNA I wanted to not only tell the story of a victim who struggles to deal with PTSD while rebuilding relationships, but also show how the behavior and persona of a perpetrator changes with their audience, and how those who have been coercively controlled can still bend to their abuser, even months after the event.

ANNA is not a milquetoast trope of a victim. She is broken, beaten, abused, carrying her scars and trauma around with her, never letting her guard down. She struggles as survivors struggle every day, second-guessing everything and everyone but desperately yearning for a sense of normality. Through all of that she is strong, and she shows us her strength as the story progresses.

As a writer and a feminist I think it’s important to show a different view of survivors of sexual abuse in literature. I wanted to show her decision-making, her thought process and agency through those dark times and hopefully take the reader on the highs and lows of her recovery.

I’ve been asked why I didn’t make the novel a contemporary piece. Honestly? I love speculative and dystopian fiction. I didn’t want to write in the here and now when I work with this subject matter so often.

I stress that I’m no psychologist. I have a vested personal and professional interest in this area, and have followed and relied on experts in the field (4) to help form my characters and stories. It is not my place to tell a reader how a survivor will react to such trauma; every person is unique, their story and experiences different. My experience of something does not make me the arbitrator of all the possible responses and reactions, but I hope that what I have shown is that sexual abuse is not a trope. It is not glib, it is not something to use to merely push a story forward and add a “˜grim’ slant to a novel. It is harrowing and often the survivor is alone, even when surrounded by people who love them, with a long journey to recovery.

But the journey of a survivor is not all doom and gloom. There is hope. There are moments of love, of pure happiness and joy, of friendship and trust, but it’s not easy. Strength comes in many forms.

ANNA is a book that stands witness to the experiences of so many survivors and although that makes it an uncomfortable read at times, it is an offering to and reflection of the people who struggle with these issues.

I refuse to make a spectacle of sexual trauma, and I hope that I’ve done justice to the hundreds of survivors I’ve spoken with during my 15 years in the field of domestic and sexual abuse.

I said that we can do better, but when we see how the world really is, we know deep down that we must do better.

1. https://www.rainn.org/statistics/victims-sexual-violence
2. https://rapecrisis.org.uk/get-informed/about-sexual-violence/statistics-sexual-violence/
3. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2323517/
4. http://www.zoelodrick.co.uk/training/article-1

BIO: Sammy H.K Smith lives and works in Oxfordshire UK as a police detective. When not working she spends time with her children, husband and pets, renovates her house, and inadvertently kills plants. A keen writer and lover of all things science fiction and fantasy, she’s often found balancing a book, a laptop, a child, and a cat whilst watching Netflix.

Learn more about Anna and buy the book here.

If you’re an author or other fantasy and science fiction creative, and want to do a guest blog post, please check out the guest blog post guidelines. Or if you’re looking for community from other F&SF writers, sign up for the Rambo Academy for Wayward Writers Critclub!

People frighten and confuse me.

It’s not their fault. Well, sometimes it is, but that’s a topic for a different day. Today, I’d like to take you on a journey into the awkward glory of social anxiety. If you don’t suffer from this annoying malady, this article may not be for you, though I’d appreciate it if you’d keep reading anyway, because my second book just came out and heaven knows I need the exposure.

Most people don’t peg me for socially anxious, and I don’t blame them for missing it. I’m chatty enough with people I know, and I’m always the first to throw out an inappropriate comment. Indeed, in groups of more than three but fewer than seven, with at least two friends present, I can be absolutely effervescent. You might even say that I’m the life of a very limited range of small parties.

But if you get me in a crowd and tell me to mingle, you had better be ready for a nervous breakdown.

Have someone you need me to introduce myself to? Sorry, they look really busy sitting alone at that table, quietly refolding their napkin. Maybe later, when they’re not so preoccupied.

Got a small favor I should ask of a friend? That feels too much like imposing.

Trying to make me the center of attention? Then the center of attention is going to be a cloud of dust where I was just standing.

Want me to maintain more than a tenth of a second of nervous eye contact with you? Whoa, save something for marriage there, Speedy McTooFast.

Even with the wonderful and supportive friends that I’m lucky enough to have, I always manage to sabotage any attempt at helping me. “You looked like you wanted to be alone,” they’ll say, the day after a party. Inevitably, it’ll be a party that I spent standing in the corner, faking Barkleyesque interest in a potted fern, paralyzed, afraid to approach any of the clusters of conversation.

The real problem is that my own brain conspires against me, particularly at gatherings of other writers. “No, they’re too good for you,” it says. “One of them has a Hugo. What the hell do you have?” If I intentionally seek out a less-intimidating group, I still find ways to scare myself away. “Oh, think you’d fit in better with them? Didn’t you say a few words to two of them an hour ago? They’re probably exhausted with you after that.” Even when my wonderful friends try to help, my traitorous brain sabotages their efforts. “What, them?” it asks. “Those friends who specifically told you to join them anytime, that you were always welcome, and specifically mentioned that they were making it their mission to help you socialize? Well, that just proves they’re tired of your nonsense, doesn’t it? Better duck out before you ruin their night.” And then my brain cackles evilly as I make my way to the exit.

If this seems familiar to you, don’t despair, because there is something you can do about it: go see a psychiatrist.

Sorry, were you expecting a treatise on coping mechanisms? A weird old trick, perhaps? Yeah well, the weird old trick is to see a psychiatrist already. Because, if your social anxiety is so bad that the above is familiar, then any coping mechanisms you possess are probably being employed as excuses to not get the help you need.

If, on the other hand, the above feels like a gross exaggeration of your social anxiety, then perhaps I do have a handful of weird old tips for you.

Perhaps the most important thing is to have someone on your side. I am extremely lucky to have talented and fearless people who want me to succeed, and it has helped immeasurably. Now, this may seem like a bit of a paradox. Social anxiety can make recruiting your friends not just a Herculean task, but a mild imposition on them, and therefore an impossible request. “How can I make such a request,” you say, “as worthless and unworthy as I am? My friend surely has better things to do””like staring into space or streaming the complete run of She’s the Sheriff. I can’t let them waste their time on me.”

To get over this, the first thing you have to do is acknowledge that your brain is lying to you. I mean, Suzanne Somers is great and all, but that show just doesn’t hold up. Good acting can only go so far in saving such a horrible premise.

Oh, and your brain is also lying about your worthlessness. You are worthy and deserving of the help of others. But seriously, who the hell thought that show was a good idea?

The second most important thing is to force yourself to do the things you dread. Stand in sight of your friends at that social event. Believe in their sincerity when they wave you over. Promise yourself that you’ll say hello to those people you talked to earlier. If you must stare at your feet, put one in front of the other until you find yourself in front of that guy with the Hugo and you have no choice but to shake his hand. You needn’t be afraid. He probably won it in an off year, anyway. It’s not like he’s Ted Chiang, or something. I mean, unless he really is Ted Chiang, in which case you should probably just run.

The point is, throw yourself into the very situations you’re most afraid of, to teach yourself that they will not end in tears, chaos, and disaster. Outflank your lying brain by maneuvering yourself into social obligations you can’t back out of. When there’s nowhere to go but forward, that’s where you’ll go, and you’ll learn the terrain along the way. And when you screw it up, don’t get mad at yourself. Treat it as a training exercise instead.

Oh, and if you happen to see me at a convention? Come on over and say hello. I don’t bite, except when cornered.

Robyn Bennis is a writer and biologist living in Madison, Wisconsin. The latest book in her Signal Airship series is By Fire Above, which Publishers Weekly calls an “introspective study of the morality of war in a fantastical steampunk setting.” She has run from Ted Chiang on at least one occasion.

Follow her on Twitter. Find her website here.

Want to write your own guest post? Here’s the guidelines.

Enjoy this writing advice and want more content like it? Check out the classes Cat gives via the Rambo Academy for Wayward Writers, which offers both on-demand and live online writing classes for fantasy and science fiction writers from Cat and other authors, including Ann Leckie, Seanan McGuire, Fran Wilde and other talents! All classes include three free slots.