CWatson's Theory Rants - On Being a Writer of Color

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CWATSON's THEORY RANTS - On BEING a WRITER of COLOR

This is one of my most pretentious rants (in case you didn't think the Sci-Fi one was ponderous enough). Of course, it is my site. That's the great thing about being a writer: I get to indulge my ego, and you all everybody can't do anything about it!

...Except, of course, not read. So, if you think I'm getting whiny or overwrought, please be aware that you have been warned.

First off, it's time for a confession. You know my screen name? It's a pseudonym. The first initial is accurate, but the last name was picked solely for the heck of it: I appreciate the tradition and place of John Watson in relation to Sherlock Holmes; and the pseudonym itself has a nice ring to it. I could not, after all, very well use my real last name--not because of any fears of compromised anonymity (I hope to publish a book, for heavensake!) but because my last name is reflective of the fact that my father grew up in Hong Kong, and my mother in Indonesia, which is where their families emigrated to after leaving mainland China.

Folks, I am an Asian American.

I can already hear the thoughts reeling out in your heads. "But, but... You write so well! You write like a white person! How can this be?" Or, "How come you never write interracial fiction? Where are the thrilling tales of the strapping blonde/blue American with his fair and raven-haired Chinese companion?" Or even, "But you write so unflatteringly about your Chinese characters. Isn't that immoral? Don't you have a responsibility to present your ethnicity in a flattering light?"

And, folks, let me be honest with you: these thoughts are why I write under a pseudonym.

Now, before we go any further, let me say first that I do not bear anybody ill will in this matter. I am who I am; no offense intended, but your opinion of me is not really important to my self-identity. I am a writer of quality (as well as a "writer of color") and, to those who will listen, that quality will speak for itself. I don't care if you like me or not, because the people who matter will like me, because I am likeable. So it doesn't bug me if you and I disagree about what an Asian-American writer is or should be capable of; you're entitled to your own opinions. I only ask that you give me the chance to prove you wrong.

Furthermore, the publishing & fiction area is fairly conservative in viewpoint, and we all drank these attitudes with our mothers' milk. We are all prejudiced by our environments; our parents and the media have done their best to train us a certain way, and there is no shame in this training having worked on us. (What is shameful is clinging to outmoded views in the face of convincing evidence to the contrary; but that's between you and yourself, and it's not what I'm here to talk about. Let's move on.) This is simply the way the world is; I accept that.

I just also don't plan to let it stop me.

First off: the term "Asian American" is somewhat misleading; it implies that I emigrated. I did not emigrate; in fact, my entire life's experience on the Asian continent are a 19-day tour of China when I was 13, and a week and a half in Hong Kong, plus 5 hours in a Japanese airport, when I was 6. I was born and raised in the Silicon Valley and live there to this day; in fact, aside from vacations, I have never spent a night further than 15 miles from the exact spot where my mother squirted me out (Good Samaritan Hospital in San Jose). I'm a small-town kind of guy! Except that that "small town" is the San Francisco Bay Area, one of the most diverse places on earth. Nonetheless, my point stands. You know those people who come from small towns out in the Midwest? My upbringing has been of similar geographical limitation.

Nowadays, I prefer the unwieldy but far more accurate term "American-born Chinese": it establishes that, yes, I have yellow skin, but also that I was born and raised here. I have assimilated. I'm monolingual, like most Americans; I don't consider myself any less American for having come from a different continent than the rest of you white people; I was just as horrified by 9/11 as any citizen of the country (hell, as any citizen of the world; if someone had smacked an Iraqi skyscraper that way, we'd be just as incensed, because nobody deserves that). Honestly, I don't consider myself to be of an "ethnicity." I am American.

So, for those of you who are wondering about my command of English, that's why. It's my first language. Hell, it's my only language. Like I said, I'm an American monolinguist (by which I mean, I'm actually a demilinguist, 'cause we sure don't speak no Queen's English here across the Atlantic). And for those of you wondering why I don't use the "interr" tag or write those kinds of stories, it's because I don't see anything exotic about an American from one continent fucking an American from another. (Hell, if anything, it's the white folks who don't belong here. We got here first: Native Americans, before they crossed the Bering Land Bridge, came from Mongolia. But I digress.) If I ever wrote a story about people from two different countries, with different ethnic and social backgrounds, falling in love, then I would label it "interr" (and I've been toying with the idea of a Romeo-&-Juliet-In-Sarajevo, so that's not an idle speculation). But two people from the same culture? Do you label it "interr" when Peter Estebes gets together with Charlene Falconi? Why not? One's Spanish, the other's Italian, aren't they. Well, no: they're both American. The same concept, I think, should apply here. (Though it doesn't.)

As to the last concern: don't I, as a "writer of color," have an obligation to present my culture in the most positive light possible? Heck, don't I, as a "writer of color," have an obligation to write about my culture?—instead of writing about white people like Jon and Caitlyn Stanford, which any old person can do?

To the first question: I, like any writer, have the obligation to tell the truth. And the truth about Asians is not always flattering—just like the truth about white people, about Indians (be they dot or feather), about black people, about anyone, is not always flattering. It's true that the theme I write about most—crazy parents—no, sorry, ka-raaazy parents—crops up most frequently with Asian mothers. (Once, when Caitlyn's mother was trying to get her to break off with me, she hissed, "You know, you do realize we're not Asian." Which Caitlyn and I and her brother and my sister all thought was the most hilariously hypocritical thing ever, 'cause, umm, yes she darn well was, in spirit if not in form.) But it's not exclusive to Asian parents; in fact, it's universal: look at Brandon's dad, and at Mrs. Delaney, both of whom were modeled on real parents of friends of mine—on white parents of white friends of mine.

To the second question: Yes, I do. I do have an obligation to write about my culture. That's why I write about Americans.

The assumption within publishing & fiction is that only white people can understand or be part of American culture, and that "writers of color" are only allowed to write "fiction of color." I find that restricting in the extreme. As we've discussed, I don't feel like a foreigner here, and don't see why I should be made to feel like one. (I've been a foreigner enough already, thank you; the worst time was when I was one of only 9 fifth-graders in my 4th/5th combi class—and when all the other 5th-graders, Asian and white alike, banded together to ostracize me. Not coincidentally, 11 was the worst year of my life.) I'm not an outsider, but the assumption is that, with my last name, I must be, and that my stories must be about culture clashes and being separated by the color of my skin. And my greatest fear is that, if I publish under my own name, all the Americans—my target audience—will pick up my first book and say, "Hmm, use of Christian imagery and American first names, but, enh. Chinese last name on the writer. There's no possible way he and I could have anything in common." And all the Chinese mothers—not my target audience—will squeal in delight and pick up the book and read three pages and go, "...What heck? This wrote by white man! Aiya," and put it down again. And thus my first novel will sell twelve copies: two sold to me, ten to my mother. And thus will end the illustrious publishing career of CWatson.

I wish it didn't have to be this way. But, as Thomas Harris puts it, "Wish in one hand and shit in the other, see which one gets full first." Life is what it is, not what we wish it to be. And the good news is, I have the talent to do it. I've been publishing Internet fiction for... Well, my first story hit Literotica on July 9, 2003, so the five-year mark has already passed. In all that time, only two people have ever written me to say, "You know too much about how my family works, you must be Asian." (To which I of course said, "Guilty; guilty as charged.") This despite some 100,000 collective views to my stories. If I can write so effectively "as an American" that no one has yet caught on, I should be good to go.

...At least, until I have to give a talk in person and everyone wonders who the chink is.

...Or until I blow my cover. Like I just did. Ha-ha, whoops...

I'm CWatson. I'm an American. And I hope that's okay with you guys, 'cause I'm sure gonna write like one.