What does it mean to be part of the LGBTQ+ community in Wisconsin as an author today? Does participation in this community influence a writer’s feeling of belonging? Their sense of identity? And does that belonging impact the words that they put down on the page?

As an LGBTQ+ writer myself, these are the questions I hold close as I read and write, and the ones I was most eager to explore as I set out to interview a few Wisconsin authors with upcoming and recently released novels across the state.

Common Threads

Interestingly, when I picked up books from all the authors I was planning to meet, a few trends emerged right away: Many of their characters were on paths of self-discovery, and many were also trying to break free from the molds in which they grew up. This was especially true for middle grade and young adult stories. But more than that, the stories coming out of Wisconsin’s queer community featured characters that were reflecting on where they belong and what it means to be queer through their connections with others and with the natural environment.

In other words, community—often full of imperfect and messy characters—is at the heart of all these stories.

Pebble Stone Chronicles

For most of the authors I interviewed, finding a community took some trial and error, and a willingness to put themselves “out there.” Madison author Huckleberry Rahr says that it took a while to find a supportive feedback group, possibly because of her dyslexia, and because of folks not understanding the fantasy elements of her work. Eventually they found a group of people who, in their words, “all worked to teach me about the world of writing, critiquing, editing, and publishing. My background is in teaching, so I’ve always loved helping others, but the help I was given so freely gave me the confidence to share my knowledge.” Huckleberry is the author of the Pebble Stone Chronicles. And the latest book in their series, Zephyr, was just released in August.

The Ink Witch

Giving ourselves grace in the process of figuring out our identity and finding community is important. Milwaukee-based author, Steph Cherrywell, wants their readers and aspiring LGBTQ+ writers to know that, “Being able to define yourself is good and powerful and important. But also, it’s okay if you’re not great at it right away.” In their latest middle grade novel, Steph blends magic and the power of names in The Ink Witch (released September 16).

In the novel, Becca Slugg discovers she’s the descendent of a witch coven, and has to find her place in this lineage as a witch who happens to be a trans girl. But as Cherrywell explains, “Becca being trans wasn’t the original idea. I wanted a trans kid at the heart of a story that was about something other than having to fight for their identity. As important as those stories are, we should get to have other kinds of stories, too.”

But as they continued to write, they realized something deeper about magical tropes. “There’s another really old idea about magic, and that’s the power of names. It’s the idea that if you know someone’s name, you have a form of control over them, and because of that, some powerful creatures keep their true name secret. I wanted to turn that idea on its head, too. In The Ink Witch, having your true name known makes you stronger, rather than weaker.”

For both Rahr and Cherrywell, fantasy fit as a genre for discovering the magic of where you belong and what it means to be queer. Fantasy is playful: Characters—and even entire worlds—that are fluid and malleable, much like the fluidity of gender and sexuality. For LGBTQ+ authors in Wisconsin, building magical worlds full of characters and stories that reflect our lives is an essential way to reaffirm our humanity.

Lucy, Uncensored

But writing and sharing queer stories is necessary work for building community among LGBTQ+ people in the state as well. For Mel and Teghan Hammond, sisters and co-authors of the queer coming-of-age YA novel Lucy, Uncensored, writing helped the siblings re-connect. Mel lives in Madison, and her sister Teghan lives in Indiana. But while they were co-writing their novel together, Teghan was serving time in an Indiana state prison. As Mel recalls, “Teghan would handwrite chapters and mail them to me in state-issued envelopes, and the prison system would deliver our messages hours, days, or weeks later, always out of order.”

At the end of her chapters, Teghan would write about the personal stories that inspired what she’d written, like when she painted her nails in high school and was called gay slurs because of it. That vulnerability allowed Mel to open up about times she wished she’d been a better ally. “The process brought us closer together than ever,” Teghan said.

The Aurorian Trilogy

In this current political climate in our country, sharing queer stories of identity (and building community around them) is in itself a form of political and cultural resistance. Madison author Lacie M. Lou is working on building a community of LGBTQ+ writers in the area, meeting up at a local library on a monthly basis and sharing information together. She says, “If I didn’t have my online and in-person writing community, I probably would have been done writing after my first book.” Lucie’s dark fantasy (for ages 16+) is “full of vengeance, monsters, grief, and diverse queer representation.” The latest book in her series The Aurorian Trilogy was just released on August 28.

In late July, Lacie and I sat down at Lakeside Street Cafe in Madison. Even though we’d just met at her booth at the Big Gay Market, we quickly bonded over our love of fiction and our memories of growing up reading The Animorphs, a 90s kid classic that has profoundly radicalized so many of us with its shape-shifting characters. But there was something deeper there as well: Our shared love of reading and editing stories that our friends have written. There’s something special about reading something that was written by someone you know personally, someone with whom you share time with outside the pages of a book.

Representation Matters—And Heals

For younger readers, stories with queer characters let them know there are other people out there who share their experiences and who are rooting for them. This is especially true for readers who live in places where access to diverse representation is limited. And for mature readers, we are able to heal parts of ourselves when we read these stories, young parts of us who yearned to know we weren’t alone. The LGBTQ+ community is re-shaping the landscape of literature in Wisconsin, but not on our own. We are working together, sharing resources and ideas and all of our beautiful, shape-shifting characters, because we know that while writing is a solitary act, it is best cultivated in community.