By
I know what you’re thinking. It sounds completely ridiculous and irrational but in truth,
reading queer books helped me realise who I am. Being consumed by characters that
thought like me living lives that I could only dream of. If only I was brave enough to. In
hindsight, I didn’t need to be brave about anything, I didn’t need a big coming out and
honestly, I made a bigger deal than anyone else did. It came as more of a surprise to me
than it did for everyone else!
I was in my first year of university and I had an assignment to write about identity in literature
and whilst I could have gone for my default topic of conversation, feminism (which is
something I could talk about all day), I decided to go to my ever-growing tbr pile and came
across Taylor Jenkins Reid’s book, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo – this is where I
first discovered my love for sapphic books. I’d described myself as a firm ally prior to this and
had been a fan of romance novels so it’s hard to believe I hadn’t made this discovery earlier.
But I was 19 and just learning about queerness and subsequently about myself.
Reid’s book started a snowball effect. I found more sapphic books, one being a very steamy
age gap romance by Roselyn Sinclair, The X Ingredient. The protagonist, Diana Parker, goes
through her own awakening about her sexuality and I found myself relating to a lot of her
journey. The book also left me feeling very red-faced and flustered, something I hadn’t
experienced from heterosexual romance novels despite reading some incredible (and
equally as steamy) books. The X Ingredient had a profound impact on me and stuck with me
for weeks, months, even three years later. It's also what inspired me to write.
I became completely enthralled by queer authors and the stories they wrote, from authors like Melissa
Tereze to Jae, who embrace queerness and show the beauty in sapphic relationships. I
found an appreciation for indie authors who were telling very real stories – this is a
community that I’m very proud to have become part of. After becoming active in the ‘bookish’
community, I became curious about my own writing ability, one that I hadn’t exercised since
being a very small child full of abundant imagination and desire to live in worlds different
from my own.
The writing bug hit when I was recovering from surgery and wondering what I was going to
do with the three months I was stuck in bed. I had muddled through my assignments (with
difficulty), watched everything I possibly could on Netflix and had that childlike urge to
explore my own imagination. I wrote short stories to start with, some were terrible and never
saw the light of day, but others had potential. It got my mind active when I just needed a
taste of creativity, where I wasn’t restricted by expectation, something that I’d been longing
to do for a long time.
I wrote down what was in my mind, not thinking about structure or using particularly fancy words. I just wrote. It was a romance story, I can’t even remember what it was about, I just remember the love interest becoming more and more feminine as I was writing, until I realised I was writing about the love between two women. I’d had my
share of panic over beautiful women before, but thought it was just something every woman
has. It was only when I’d been given full control of this story that I’d unintentionally written
the love story that I’d been craving for myself.
After the first story, and a complete spiral of confusion, I decided to write my second.
Another sapphic romance. It was no longer just a one-off. I was reading more queer stories,
and writing about these women in relationships with other women and every time I felt an
overwhelming feeling of excitement and nerves – it was everything I’d been wanting to feel.
Those stories started to build up, writing every so often between university assignments, and
I realised I’d found my thing. I had a creative outlet where I could be myself completely and
write the characters that were like me. In eighteen months, I’d managed to put together a
collection that I could publish. My first book baby.
Of course, something was missing. In the books I was reading and what I was writing. I
couldn’t completely relate to the characters or their journeys. I knew throughout my
university career I wanted to write my undergraduate dissertation on queer women with
disabilities. I remember having a conversation during my first year about it, being told I didn’t
have to have a secure idea yet. But I’d become determined that was what I wanted to do. I
have a disability myself and I had become enrage at the lack of representation in literature,
so when it came to my first meeting with my supervisor, she told me I should use my
knowledge and write about the sapphic romance novels I’d grown to love.
I wrote about three books, Jae’s Just Physical, Cheyenne Blue’s A Heart Full of Hope and Mazey Edding’s
Late Bloomer – all beautiful representations of disability and neurodivergence – and very
queer! For me, Jae’s book had the biggest impact, and I found myself feeling quite emotional
at times, knowing I had experienced a lot of the feelings that the main character, Jill, had
experienced. If I had to pinpoint my favourite book, or one that I could recommend everyone
to read, it would be Just Physical!
Writing this thesis made me realise the joy in being a woman who loves other women, but
representation isn’t as good as it could be. Naturally, this makes me wonder, what’s next?
What is next for my journey, with my own books? Can I be the person to write the thing I’ve
been so desperate to read?
In the last three years, I’ve made lots of discoveries about myself and my writing so its
obvious that I will be asking myself where I should take things next. My first book was a
perfect accident, an exploration of who I am, what I wanted, almost like writing my own
destiny; although I’m yet to find a beautiful, intelligent woman who resembles Lana Parrilla (if
you know you know) to sweep me off my feet!
The next book needs to be about filling the gaps, righting the wrongs that I found throughout
my studies – telling the stories of those that haven’t been celebrated yet. My next book will
have a disabled, queer woman and will be just as steamy as the novels I fell in love with
when I was introduced to the world of sapphic books.
I’m not sure where it’s going yet, but isn’t that the fun of writing?
The Female Form, Z.B. Phillips
The Female Form follows a group of queer women (and the people around them) learning about their identities, finding love and "seeking solace in friendship" through a collection of short stories that depicts how one week can change everything for them.
