Rachel Will:

So what are you reading right now?

Kyle Raymond Fitzpatrick:

I just read Chelsea Girls by Eileen Myles.

RW:

One of the queerest of the queers.

KRF:

One of the super queers of the queers.

RW:

Who said that Blue Is The Warmest Color wasn’t real sex.

KRF:

I mean, if anyone would say that, it’s Eileen Myles.

RW:

I was into it! It was still a 10-minute sex scene — whatever it was. I mean, there wasn’t a lot of penetration…?

KRF:

Well, I think that’s what they were referring to? There’s a part in Chelsea Girls that I loved even though it has been a long time since I have seen a vagina of an adult person: there was this whole chapter about a lover they had who they described having these sexual interactions with, describing this person’s vagina as so, like, brilliant. It was literally, “I could make a home in here.”

RW:

Can we fit another little filthy but brilliant female mention in right now? Maggie Nelson’s The Argonauts. In the first few pages, she talks about getting fucked in the asshole.

KRF:

What’s funny about that book is that it was such a success. I feel like a lot of times queerness in mainstream literature is a dining room table with a tablecloth over it. It looks like a ghost. But there’s a bunch of shit under that table!

RW:

As in they obscure a lot of the experience?

KRF:

Yeah, they present it and perform for straight people, for lack of a better word. It’s set up, like “I shaved my [genitals] so you can come over and eat it.” It’s set up for society’s expectations of it. I feel like a lot of queer literature is like that. What Maggie Nelson did a good job with is that she lifted that tablecloth, she showed a ton of fucking shit under it…

RW:

Pregnancy. Pooping. Penetration. Dildos.

KRF:

I thought that was so amazing. It felt very honest, very real, very true. It felt authentic. I read a lot of queer literature where I go “Is this for us? Because I’ve had more exciting, pleasurable, interesting, unique experiences than what I am reading on this page.” I’ve talked to many queer readers who echo that feeling.

RW:

Can we take a moment to give it up for Graywolf?

KRF:

I didn’t realize it was them!

RW:

I also want to say: Carmen Maria Machado’s Her Body and Other Parties, a book appreciated by baby queers everywhere, is also by Graywolf! If you’re going to publish a queer book, do it with Graywolf!

I do have to say though that in some literary circles, queerness in literary fiction is treated as “unliterary.”

KRF:

That’s interesting. Do you have an example?

RW:

I just think that when a queer book is marketed or presented to the public, it has to very much be: THIS IS QUEER EVERYBODY! GET ON BOARD WITH IT! It can’t just be a protagonist who is queer. 

KRF:

I feel like this is the risk we all run (as someone who is working on a book that is very queer, about being queer in liberal spaces) that it will just be a “queer” book. It’s not necessarily marketed or presented as a book everyone will read. It’s like telling people to go watch Logo over VH1 or “Go watch BET, you’re black!” I’m very curious where that wall comes up. Is it marketing? Is it bookstores?

RW:

There was just an article about Sue Landers that wove in how queers used to steal gay titles from bookstores out of shame. Though I feel like that has changed significantly among marginalized groups, queerness is still very othered in literary fiction.

KRF:

Yes 100%, and that’s why Maggie Nelson’s Argonauts is so good. I gave my dad that book for father’s day…

RW:

Which I love.

KRF:

He’s also maybe homophobic but he had a queer sister who recently passed away. We read that book together and talked about it in our unfortunate, pre-death book club we had between the two of us.

RW:

Regarding fathers consuming queer writing, I wrote a piece about a relationship I had and everyone in my family read it. It came time for my dad to read it and my mom nudged it his way like, “Sweetie, you should read this it’s a big deal for Rachel.” I think I got a text that was like, “Good article EMOJI HAND THUMBS UP,” and I was like, “Thanks Dad!”

KRF:

And let me guess: he’s never mentioned it in person.

RW:

Yes, he’s never ever spoken about it.

KRF:

What are we craving from the queer publishing world?

RW:

What I hate about queer writing and queer art, specifically lesbian art, is that everything has to stem from a place of trauma or disaster. It can never be a simple introduction.

KRF:

It’s queer catastrophe.

RW:

Thank you. Queer catastrophe. Today, two things that popped up on my radar: Boy Erased — a film about a boy who goes to queer conversion, Nicole Kidman’s the mom, what up — and then the adaptation of The Miseducation of Cameron Post, which is the same story but it’s a woman. I think it says a lot that two big talent — maybe not big budget — films are coming out in the next year centered on gay conversion therapy.

KRF:

I just read How to Survive a Summer, also about gay conversion. It wasn’t the best book but I really, really liked it and really, really respected it because I assume that these are generally going to be sad-sad, cry-cry, Oscar-Oscar type of things.

With How to Survive a Summer, they’re adult gay people living their best lives. Some are more fucked up than others but, ultimately, the character you hear this through…

RW:

Spiritually survived.

KRF:

Yes, the character you hear this through has a happy ending. I’m normally very anti-happy ending, particularly queer happy endings, but…

RW:

What?

KRF:

Yes, I know that’s a hot take.

RW:

That is a hot take.

KRF:

It’s because tragedy has been created by straight people [editor’s note: Call Me By Your Name was written by a cisgender, heterosexual writer] which is why we as queer people can’t then talk about our experiences. When we do, other queer people are like, OH WELL IT’S ALWAYS ABOUT TRAGEDY. Well my experience hasn’t always been positive. And I don’t think that there are always happy endings.

RW:

It’s unfortunate that most of the gatekeepers are not queer and do not have that inside track understanding of what we do or what we are trying to write. I think publishing can be more queer.

KRF:

I think it can be more queer, I think it can be more diverse in general. I think it’s a diversity that can exist across the board in everything and that’s something we all know and all hope for. We all need to make sure that it’s a priority.

RW:

Yes! How about the most unintentionally queer literary item?

KRF:

You first.

RW:

YOU MADE UP THIS QUESTION.

KRF:

THAT DOESN’T MEAN I HAD AN ANSWER.

RW:

Like a very utilitarian canvas bag, with a lot of pockets and grommets and metal.

KRF:

It doesn’t even need to be that complicated.

RW:

No, it does. Because tote bag territory, that’s straight. With grommets and shit? You see.

KRF:

If I see a straight man carrying a New Yorker tote, I’ll think that guy is gay.

RW:

You would be fooled. Do you have bad gaydar?

KRF:

-ish.

RW:

I have terrible gaydar.

KRF:

You know what, this is a(nother) hot take: SNAPPING.

RW:

I do that, is that gay?

KRF:

I think it is a queer culture thing. Even though it is a poetry thing, I think it happens outside of poetry spaces which again I would say is queering the snap.

RW:

Imagine the gayest, queerest publishing workshop or fellowship. How would it be run, where would it be, is it the content or the people that make it gay?

KRF:

I feel like it would be in L.A., really. Or in the desert, somewhat remote.

RW:

Marfa but not. The new Marfa.

KRF:

Joshua Tree, Palm Springs. Something in the middle of nowhere. A lot of it would be non-literary where we all are basically constructing it ourselves. We have this fellowship! But this fellowship is nothing. We have some experts coming in, hopefully we have benchmarks we will reach but the goal is for all of us to work together to make something.

RW:

Before you start there will be a Google Doc…

KRF:

No, that’s already straight.

RW:

…where everyone can write in what they want and what they envision for the fellowship. And then we can pool together projects that are interdisciplinary, fully funded.

KRF:

Yes, pay for it.

RW:

Pay us! Bunk beds.

KRF:

It’s a bunk bed that holds 40 people in one bed and 40 people in the other.

RW:

With a slide and a canopy.

KRF:

Everyone is naked and touching things. Hopefully there is some incense.

RW:

Natural geysers.

KRF:

Clothing optional.

RW:

Smudging ceremony.

KRF:

Talking sticks.

RW:

Whistles. Cause that’s like anti-queer queer. That makes me horny.

KRF:

Booze? Probably weed.

RW:

NO EDIBLES.

KRF:

NO FUCKING EDIBLES.

RW:

The fellows make all the food.

KRF:

We’re actually just talking about a commune where, in the end, we all make a publishing project together. We actually realize it’s 1972, we’re in Berkeley, we’re all women, and somehow we invent Lilith Fair.