She meant it literally (and yes), but I guess we could also mean it metaphorically. Either way, this blog is about the work of Pride and the ‘where do I actually fit in’ of Pride (but maybe not in the way you’d think). As well as finally, some gratitude for Pride.

Firstly, yes, I’m tired. This Pride month has been a chaotic juggling of other responsibilities and work (one such project, when it is finished, shall be referred to henceforth as ‘the Chaos Demon Project’ or ‘the thing that killed me’, depending on the outcome). It’s also been a book launch, book edits, book proposals, all the book things, but also yes, Pride-related work things. Which, however you look at it- gratitude or not- takes up time and energy.

It’s energy I’m happy to give, and I think it’s worth noting that while in previous years I’ve spent Pride month doing a lot of corporate talks, this year all my Pride month work is unpaid. This is partly on me because the aforementioned other work chaos, and other reasons, meant I didn’t really go hustling for corporate gigs. However, the quietness of corporate gigs, where I usually get one or two sliding into my inbox, asking me to explain the rainbow…silence this year. Make of that what we will.

But in terms of unpaid labour for Pride, I am firmly in the camp of: we should, if we are able, give it. Maybe the Brownies brainwashed me at a young age (not that well because I lasted all of half a term in Guides), but I’ve always been of the Baden-Powell-esque opinion that lending a hand is good for everyone. While I don’t agree with the ‘everyone works for exposure’ mentality, along with a lot of things, the pushback on that has gone too far to mean that we’ve made giving up our time for ‘free’ some kind of dirty word…when in fact it’s about community. So, while yes, Pride this year has been incredibly busy with no monetary gain for me, I don’t think the latter is a bad thing… it is, in fact, what Pride is really about. Don’t get me wrong, I can and will take money from corporate organisations who can very much afford it, and while tokenism isn’t to be applauded, tokenistic work that also pays me, a Queer, is for me also perfectly acceptable. Queer Labour should be paid when it’s part of someone else’s profit, but we should also expect to put our time into the community and not be compensated for it, because that’s how you get things done.

And look, I’m not even doing that much- I’m doing some talks and workshops, it’s not hard labour here, and it’s something I enjoy. I’m well aware there are folks doing more than I currently am for our community… but it’s about giving what we can, too.

All this to say, this ‘Queer Labour’, for want of another way to put it, has become what Pride month is about for me. And not in any virtue signalling way, it has given it meaning for me too. Not that in an objective sense I lacked knowledge of its meaning and importance, but in being part of making sure the why of Pride month is understood even by a handful of people, I feel part of Pride month in a way I never used to.

Because no, a lot of the usual Pride shenanigans are not my cup of tea…mainly because a cup of tea is more my cup of tea than shots. And this isn’t the point that perhaps you think it is.

In other corners of the internet, I’ve seen a lot of bean-soupery about Pride Month. How it’s inaccessible, not in the sense that individual Prides aren’t accessible- which of course we should be doing our utmost to do (with the caveat that not everything can be made perfectly accessible to everyone, particularly outdoor community-run events), no, the protests, pardon the pun, are ‘Prides aren’t things that I LIKE to do, therefore it’s inaccessible. I’ve seen even complaints that a running group dared to have a Pride run, and that the person complaining online could not run (this run, the internet also confirmed, was accessible to wheelchair users, and hosted so that walkers could take part, the person simply did not…like running). If this Pride run had been the ONLY Pride event, maybe, maybe they’d have a point. But really, what we see more and more are community organisations like that running club putting on a Pride event, and getting torn apart because it isn’t the first choice of a handful of people in how to celebrate Pride.

But guess what? My entire life, the ‘traditional’ way to celebrate Pride, with club nights, sex, and lots of people, has never been my idea of ’a nice day out ’, as Gary Barlow said. That’s not Pride’s fault. That’s not Pride being ‘inaccessible’, that is a personal preference. It’s like Otters versus Bears, Butch versus Femme, it’s a personal preference, and neither is right or wrong. I just…don’t like drinking, clubbing or being of the asexual persuasion, had casual sex at the top of my list (not all asexuals before someone comes for me).

The point is, too, that parties and the drinking that can go with them are an important part of Pride. Celebrating in the face of oppression. But also, yes, club spaces have historically been places where we can be ourselves. Clubs should be part of Pride celebrations and everything that goes with them. Yes, including the sex, casual or otherwise, because queer sex is political and defiant, and again belongs at Pride (in an appropriate setting, don’t scare the neighbours, etc., unless they’re into that).

When I say traditional Prides are not for me, I’m not saying Prides are the problem; I’m also not the problem. It’s just an acknowledgement that the traditional coming together (pardon the pun) of the community was never a set of activities that appealed to me. It’s busy, it’s hot, it’s drunk, non merci.

But the onus isn’t on stopping that traditional Pride, it’s making sure we have alternatives. And in that comes the kind of community work I’m talking about. For me, it’s giving talks, running workshops, etc., for others it’s running Pride runs, or queer book clubs, or cooking events or alternative Pride spaces. And add to that if we want to get away from commercial Prides (spoiler, we do, especially in this political climate) then that takes volunteers, it takes community, and yes, being tired.

And here’s my maybe controversial take on all this. Even if normal Prides, with clubbing and parties and 90s pop stars, are your Christmas…you also owe the community side some support. Because firstly, one day and possibly soon, the commercial Pride bubble will burst, and you’ll need those community-driven events. But also, it might not be right now, you might right now be living your best party Pride life and good for you (I mean that sincerely, Queer joy is Queer joy), but there will probably be a moment in your life you need queer community in some form or other, and you don’t get to have community without giving into that community.

And that, for me, is what Pride is about.

Filling the cup of community, whatever that looks like.

And metaphorically, yes, I’m tired too. I don’t think I need to labour the point about the wider world in this blog; we’re all well aware. And I’m lucky that my Welsh bubble is (relatively) better than some places in the UK and definitely better than many other places. But also, there’s the other exhaustion, the ‘the left eating itself’ exhaustion that comes with trying to do any of this stuff- there will always be someone who says what you’re doing isn’t the right thing, or it’s not including x or y thing. Quite often, that’s saying ‘you’re doing a running club when I wanted a swimming club’, but that person has done nothing to create a swimming club. But for those of us who do stuff for the community (and I don’t do nearly as much as others), we’re the ones told we’re not doing enough. Which, I guess, brings me back around to the point above: give to your community yourself.

These past few years, though, despite that noise, I have felt part of the community in ways I hadn’t for two decades of being under the rainbow….for the longest time, I did think that the only way to find queer spaces was in clubs and pubs and beds…and that was never going to be me. But I’ve found community in so many ways, and found that people like and respect what I do as part of that community also…more to the point, I’ve found people in my community that are like me, and that finally do feel part of something.

On that note, a moment of shameless self-congratulation that I made the Pinc List- a list of, I guess, ‘notable’ LGBTQ+ folks in Wales, for the first time. I’m very grateful to whoever nominated me, and if nothing else, it inspires me to be more obnoxiously queer in the next 12 months.

I took some heat in the Facebook comments this week over an article I wrote for Nation Cymru about my book. Not as you might think, because it was about gays in Wales, or finding Pride in being Welsh and part of the LGBTQ+ community…but because I used the word ‘Queer’ in my book (and by association the publication did in the article title).

Multiple comments telling me that Queer was offensive and a slur, one telling me there was no way they’d even open a book with that on the cover.

So let's get a few things straight and several things very, very queer.

Jokes aside, aside from clear trolling, I tend to engage in good-faith arguments, figuring that even if the commenter doesn’t learn something, someone else might. So here are some thoughts on ‘Queer’…

Yes, ‘Queer’ was used as an insult extensively in the past. But so is ‘gay’. I’d go as far as to say ‘Gay’ is still used as an insult a fair bit, while Queer has fallen out of ‘fashion’ in that respect. In fact, find me a word for LGBTQ+ that hasn’t in some respect been thrown about as an insult.

Queer is a contentious term; nobody is arguing that. Some people love it, some people hate it, and that’s fine. It’s fine because nobody is asking you to use it yourself. What we are asking is that you respect and understand that some people do use it. In the same way we respect when people label themselves Gay, Lesbian or Bisexual, Queer is the label some people choose to use for themselves, and that should, in fact, be that.

The argument often goes ‘I won’t use it because it’s a slur I heard growing up’...fine, and like all homophobia, that sucks. But consider also that people who heard ‘Gay’ or ‘Lesbo’ might feel a certain way about those labels, too.

Another element to consider is that not everyone fits neatly into the LGBTQIA+, because not everyone is just an L or a G (which is usually where the outcry about ‘Queer’ comes from). particularly if you are a combination of several of those labels. Trans folks can be gay or lesbian too, but then that’s a set of labels to explain. Pansexual people don’t technically have their letter in the acronym. Many Asexual or Aromantic folks occupy another label in romantic or sexual attraction- they can be bi-romantic, Gay but aromatic they might also be Trans…the list goes on. So sometimes it’s easier to say ‘Queer’.

For some, it might be an overlapping of several labels, which means an umbrella term like ‘Queer’ is easier to explain. Either because nobody wants to reel off a complicated set of definitions, or because, quite simply, the actual intricacies of your gender or sexuality are nobody’s business. As an Asexual person, who also would occupy some of the Bisexual/Pansexual label (and who never really settled on one of those either). Who also identifies as Agender (gender I don’t know her). This multitude of labels is of no real use to or interest to anyone else but me. They’re labels I use to understand myself, but not really anyone else’s concern. I’ve chosen to explain that here because it’s my blog, and I hold the ‘power’ dynamic, as it were, but I might not also want to explain all that in a five-minute conversation with a stranger, so I would just say ‘Queer’ instead.

However, people do want to know ‘what’ you are if you’re ‘a rainbow’ and I always felt disingenuous claiming one of the letters I’m not so ‘Queer’ is a nicer catch-all way of labelling myself in casual conversation. Because, despite what the Daily Mail comments section says, most of us aren’t that invested in digging into the minutiae of our labels.

Sometimes ‘Queer’ is safer, too, within the community. Transphobia runs rife, we know that, so rather than disclosing the specifics of their gender identity, someone can use ‘Queer’ and hopefully be left a little more in peace. Similarly, biphobia is rampant, and if in casual conversation a person wishes to say ‘Queer’ to avoid being told they don’t exist by a dinosaur, then who are we to take that option from them?

Of course, the elephant in the room is that oftentimes the ‘We hate Queer’ is a smokescreen for transphobia, that the L and G are the only ‘legit’ labels. Not always, and people are, again, very entitled not to wish to use the label themselves. But ‘no Q in LGBTQ’ has a very similar ring to the ‘No T in LGB’ brigade…

But on that note, too, just letting people use the label that feels right seems to be a much more inclusive choice for all of us.

Then there’s the ‘academic’ use of the word Queer. In writing/analysis of the history and culture of the community, ‘Queer Studies’ has been in mainstream academic use since the early 1990s. Going back before that, our old buddy French philosopher Michel Foucault published The History of Sexuality. He argued that modern categories like “the homosexual” were actually invented by 19th-century doctors and scientists as a way to police human behaviour, laying the groundwork for analysing power and language.

The field officially got its name when theorist Teresa de Lauretis coined “Queer Theory” at a 1990 conference. Foundational books were published, most notably Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble (1990) and Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick’s Epistemology of the Closet (1990). And in terms of the (often white, cis) objections to it, crucially, the field expanded through intersectionality, a concept from Black feminist scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw, which integrates with critical race theory, trans studies, and disability studies to examine how multiple forms of oppression intersect.

It’s also not just about the what label fits who, and yes, the who is doing what with whom of it all…Queer studies doesn’t just study LGBTQ+ people as a subculture. Instead, it uses the lens of “queerness” to critique power structures, politics, literature, and history as a whole.

Queer studies rejects essentialism (the idea that being gay or straight, male or female, is a fixed, biological truth across history). Instead, it argues that these categories are social constructs created by specific cultures, medical systems, and historical moments. It also has roots in discussions of performativity: popularised by Judith Butler, the idea that gender isn’t something you are; it’s something you do. It is a continuous, repetitive performance of behaviours, speech, and clothing dictated by society, rather than an internal biological truth. And with all that challenging “Heteronormativity”: Coined by Michael Warner in 1991, this term describes the institutionalised assumption that heterosexuality and strict gender binaries are the default, natural state of humanity. Queer studies works to disrupt this default.

One might say that, rather than taking away labels, the term adds to them.

But what about the activism reclaiming of it?

Faced with widespread social stigma and government neglect during the HIV/AIDS epidemic, activists formed groups like ACT UP and Queer Nation. They reclaimed “queer”, a word historically used as a weapon, and turned it into a badge of aggressive, unified political resistance. Activists felt that the mainstream, polite approach to “Gay and Lesbian rights” was moving too slowly while people were dying. Reclaiming a harsh, shocking word matched the raw anger, grief, and urgency of the time.

Activists realised that if they proudly used the insult themselves, they robbed their oppressors of its power. This strategy was laid bare in June 1990 at New York Pride, where the group Queer Nation distributed a now-famous, fiery anonymous manifesto titled: Queers Read This. It directly answered the question of why they used the word:

“Using ‘queer’ is a way of reminding us how we are perceived by the rest of the world... It’s a way of telling ourselves we don’t have to be witty and charming and things we’re not. We’re standing up.”

To add to this, and to bring us full circle back to the comments about my use of the term, the mainstream movement at the time was heavily segmented into distinct, often fractured identity labels (”gay,” “lesbian,” “bisexual”). Keeping those rigid distinctions serves those who do wish to keep certain groups out of the narrative, but instead those of us then and now who want to include the whole tapestry of our community looked to ‘Queer’ as an umbrella term. It has and does welcome anyone who feels marginalised by rigid sexual and gender norms—including gender-nonconforming individuals, drag queens, and trans folks who felt excluded by more conservative gay organisations.

And of course, we must do so respectfully. I would never label an individual ‘Queer’ if I had heard them expressly give themselves another label. Queer, however, functions well for talking about a collective of people who might not share the same label, or you might not know all their labels.

In my book, the people in it cover a wide range of LGBTQIA+ labels. But some of them, being historic figures, either used labels we no longer use, or didn’t explicitly label themselves. So ‘Queer’ becomes a good shorthand.

Also, for the book ‘LGBTQIA+ but also some of them we don’t know how they identified, and some of them are allies, and some of them aren’t actually Welsh by birth either’ Just wasn’t as catchy.

There are two sides to the ‘Queer or not to Queer’ conversation. On one side are people politely saying they don’t personally use that label, which is, of course, fine, and something to be not just respected but, for younger generations in particular, listened to in terms of the why for those people. That being said, even those saying it in that context should afford the same respect to those who do want to use the name, because whether that’s liking the term or a similar trauma with the other labels, those who do choose queer should be respected as much as those who don’t.

The other side is the side just trying to stir up trouble. Be that for more nefarious reasons, such as causing dissent in the community or trying to exclude other groups. Or sometimes just by some form of superiority complex, the ‘we did it this way’ of it all. To them, I will engage in good faith, but also not entertain bigotry. Is your ‘no queer’ because you find it offensive, or because you’re trying to exclude a group of people? If it’s the latter, as it so often is, it’s not about the word, but personal prejudices that don’t belong under the Queer umbrella or the LGBTQIA+ acronym.

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Going along with the ‘Questions I’ve been asked’ blog from a few weeks back, I wanted to talk about what it feels like behind the scenes of writing a book. From start-ish to finish. Mainly because I find myself somehow currently in all three ‘stages’ of bookish life at once.

The Start …

The start of a book can take months or years. Speaking for non-fiction, which is what I have (some) authority on, it goes (roughly) from ‘idea-create a proposal- send it out there’. This can understandably be a real emotional ride. From the idea and being excited about it, to trying to wrangle what is in your brain into something coherent on a page, but more importantly, something sellable to sending it out there.

The idea stage is often where I feel most confident in what I do, the idea that I do have something to say, and that this is worth doing…something that is often swiftly destroyed by sending it out there. There’s no two ways about it that sending submissions out, be it to your agent or publishers, can be soul-destroying. Because even the nicest ‘it’s a good idea but not sellable’ from an agent, or ‘it’s not for us’ from a publisher, can sting.

Weirdly, this is not the point at which I feel the rejection, because I have been coming from the theatre and have had a healthy relationship with rejection for a long time. That is to say, you really do get used to it. You really do not take it personally after a while…mostly. There are times when I’d argue you don’t have to or shouldn’t have a thick skin (I’ll get to that), but in submitting your books…yeah, you need, if not a thick skin, perhaps waterproof feathers.

Genuinely, a publisher doesn’t want my book? Doesn’t bother me. It’s not for them, I shrug and move on. Because, importantly, you don’t want to work with a publisher who doesn’t want you.

Cumulative rejection of a book gets hard, though, that’s the difference. The idea that you had been ‘not right’ for lots of places makes doubt creep in. Even if you know it’s a good idea, and there’s a place for it.

On top of this, the ‘influencer’ effect of it all. I’m not going to pretend that seeing someone with a lot of Instagram followers get book deals out of nowhere doesn’t sting. And I’m not talking people with an actual solid background in the thing- there’s a well-known TV journalist with a book similar to mine out soon, and to him I say good luck and can’t wait to read it. Because he’s got the actual background, the writing skill and the voice that belongs in a book like that. What I’m talking about is 25-year-olds who have gone viral a few times being promoted as the authority on something they haven’t even been alive long enough to learn about properly (I said what I said).

The emotions that creep in there, too, are ‘should I be…’ the ‘should I be being that person?’ should I be doing TikTok and Instagram in that Influencer-y way? Should I be trying to be more…well, famous? And honestly, as much as the answer feels like it should be ‘yes’, the answer is an easy, if frustrating, no. Could I try that? Yes. But I built up a really decent following on Twitter (before it went to shit) by being authentic, putting in the work, and being myself. If I’m ever going to be any degree of ‘niche famous’ for what I do, it’ll be by being authentic to the work. That’s not to say that authors using social media platforms to support their work is a bad thing- I’m actually super inspired by fellow authors who do that authentically- Ace Dad Advice being my GOAT for that, but also people like fellow Inlkings author Jean Menzies whose YouTube channel is informative and allows her to reach audiences, or a favourite author of mine MA Wardall who uses Patreon to build an authentic community around his books. It’s not a case of being anti-using those platforms; it’s about resentment that those who use them vacuously are the ones still getting ahead. But then the emotion comes in of ‘if I’d only done x or y’ or ‘it’s your fault for not being cool enough’ or ‘you didn’t put enough work in or you would be famous enough’

The emotions of getting a book deal are, maybe, not as exciting as you’d think. Mainly because the process is so protracted, that by the time you get the firm yes, you’ve either been waiting so long you’ve talked yourself out of it, or you kinda know it’s a done deal but are in limbo…it’s not the 00s movie signing a book deal moment. Nor is it Tony Kushner making the producers of Angels in America take him to the Rainbow Room to sign the contract for Broadway (true story). Really, there’s little emotion in trying to get a PDF to corporate for a signature, or 15 emails with your agent asking niche questions about a tiny % of royalties. It’s not personal, it’s business, as the line goes, and weirdly, the signing of the contract has always felt perhaps the least dramatic moment. Also, to be momentarily egotistical, if you get that far, I think we’re correct as authors to think ‘I earned this’ rather than do the 00s movie moment.

The writing of it…that can go a whole spectrum of emotions. Throw a mix of ADHD and autism into that mix, and you’ve got a mix of intensive work and procrastination that will mess with anyone’s head. One thing about me, too, is that I’m shockingly Type B when it comes to the process of writing books. The submission process in particular; it doesn’t have to be the best thing ever written, every comma does not have to be in the right place (who am I kidding I’ve never thought about a comma placement a day in my life), as the great man once said in relation to a midlife crisis ‘it doesn’t have to be perfect it just has to be’. And while regrettably, one does have to care about things like footnotes in a final draft (I strongly feel the robots should be doing this for me by now), I’m also shockingly type B about editing. Once again, because I’ve never thought about where a comma should go a day in my life, and if an editor says ‘this is a more grammatically correct’ sentence, then I defer to their wisdom. Also, because I truly do not care about where the comma goes (spoiler alert, neither will a reader). But also in terms of content- if you think it’s redundant editor person, I believe you, I’m an over-writer, and I can’t see the wood for my ADHD trees, chop away my friend. I also love to mix a metaphor, so cleaning that up while you’re there? Amazing.

It’s not that I don’t care because I will fight and fight hard for the bits I believe in. It’s just I don’t think I know best, and I like to defer to those with more knowledge. But in saying that, writing a book is probably the most chill part of the process.

Oh, one thing authors aren’t supposed to say…it can also be HELLA DULL. Because for every passionately written paragraph, there are pages of ‘have I said that? Should I say that? Who the fuck said that?’ as well as formatting, referencing, editing, etc., etc. And while it’s ok to romanticise our lives, it’s also ok to acknowledge that writing is a job, and like any job, has bits that are just…not that exciting. Coming up with the idea is exciting, doing the research is exciting, and crafting the structure can be exciting. But sometimes getting it on the page is just…not that exciting. There’s a difference too between ‘I enjoy this and I’m good at this’ while typing the thing out and the excruciating editing process, or just the simple tedium of pulling together a reference list. There’s also the fact- and anyone who has ever written an essay or similar will understand- that you get to a point where you never want to read the damn thing again.

Something also that I freely admit is that, like Ross in Friends, I tend to remember shockingly little of my own work once it’s written. I believe this is a PhD trauma response: forget that the minute you walk out of a viva and never speak of her again.

Finally, the publication stage. Arguably, the most emotional stage. Much like the contract signing, some of this is… anticlimactic at times. Firstly, because we as authors have so little control over it. Secondly, because, as in most industries… nobody talks to each other. So while you might have romantic notions of there being a countdown to pre-order (something again I blame on Influencers creating false myths about publishing) in reality, what will probably happen is you will Google something else nad realise your own book is now available to pre-order, or indeed Amazon will suggest your own book to you.

The ‘unboxing’, again a trend favoured by influencers, of your book copy is a great moment. But as with much in life, you can’t always predict it. So sometimes it will be an anticipated chase-the-postman-down-the-drive moment of excitement. And sometimes it will be 1 am, and you’ve just got back from a long weekend of hockey and an EasyJet flight home from Belfast and are making the best of things.

This part, too, is the ‘it could all go tits up’ stage of book writing… when it’s all out

of your control and being handed over to publishers to get it to bookshops, bookshops to get it to readers, and readers to, well, read it. And that’s the moment of doubt of ‘what the fuck did I even write’ (especially when you can’t remember it like me…). But that lack of control is so hard; you can be doing everything in your power and still feel like it’s not enough, especially once the book is out there.

And the book being out there is hard. Because truly, ‘the story isn’t mine anymore’ at that point. Sure, I can talk about it, promote it, write blogs about it, but I can’t make anyone read it, can’t make bookshops stock it, and I definitely can’t make readers like it. I also, sadly, can’t become one of those million-selling authors with my little queer books.

Mostly this stage has been positive, it’s wonderful to see people reading the books, to see bookshops stocking them, and to get to talk about them- there is nothing I like more than to yap about books and queer things, so with events I’m in my element. And there truly is nothing like seeing someone say they’ve picked up your book and enjoyed it…which is also why it’s crushing when they don’t.

Because the not-so-happy ending to this blog is…what happens when all the things out of your control as an author don’t go your way?

This book, so far, has felt that way if I’m honest, and I feel crushed by it. I’ve been spoiled, I know, by having previous books that people picked up, got excited about, and shared. This time around…crickets (aside from a few lovely friends who have told me they’ve enjoyed it).

It’s easy to also get swept up in comparison, then. Seeing someone I follow has a book out this week and has so many Instagram stories to share of people picking up the book…all power and success to them, they deserve it, but it makes you think ‘what did I do wrong? What’s wrong with me? While the rejection of not getting a book published doesn’t affect me, I’d be lying if I said the ‘wow, nobody actually wants to read this book’ didn’t. As well as the comparative, particularly in the Queer space ‘why aren’t I good enough?’

I’ve felt this acutely with this book, being told ‘nobody outside Wales will care’. Being told by bookshops ‘we’re full’ when they meant ‘we don’t want a Welsh book.’ Not even being pitched to the national press because it’s Welsh. (I have to shout out the amazing team at DIVA and The Queer Review for supporting multiple books of mine, even the super Welsh ones. It’s the hardest thing to know that you can work as hard as humanly possible on your book’s behalf and not see even a fraction of the success others have. And it’s not jealousy of them- not at all I want to see Queer authors in particular succeed because if they do, we all do- it’s disappointment in myself for not being good enough to be like them.

That too is all abstract; it’s also something that can, in a better headspace, be rationalised- they have bigger publishers, a bigger platform, a book that’s just ‘hot’ right now…yes, they are just better than you, but you can be better too. Like the rejection game that’s feedback, it’s constructive, even motivational: I’ll do better next time.

What stings, too, is realising you don’t have the support you thought you had from people you thought you had (correct sentences without an editor, not my forte). People you thought might show up for you don’t, and that always stings. But it stings more when you see them sharing, celebrating others. It’s a really hard thing, not only realising nobody in the wider world cares about your book (which is the baseline I operate from anyway, just hard when it comes true). But even harder when you realise you don’t have the support you thought you had. As someone who loves to celebrate my friends, who will shout from the rooftops their achievements, that always stings, realising you don’t have that in return.

On the flip side, when support comes from unexpected places, it’s wonderful. I cried when someone messaged me asking for dates of book events, because I just wasn’t expecting them to, and even if they don’t make it to one, that they cared enough to ask was huge. Every person who shares something or tells a friend, anything, means so much, and it really makes me feel like at least someone cares every time. What is also important is the friends who check in, ask how it’s going and celebrate the wins with you- and commiserate the losses. They make it feel worthwhile. it’s not about buying the books (go to the library!), It’s just about showing up- whether that’s in person, online, or via a supportive message.

It’s hard too, knowing you are putting all the work in, and maybe you just didn’t write a good enough book. I think back to Taylor Swift in Miss Americana saying, ‘I’ll just have to write a better album then’ but also with the hurt on her face that all the effort put into that had been the best she could do. That’s kind of where I am now…ok, I’ll have to do better next time, but it hurts because this was the best I had in me right now.

It’s knowing, not to compare my Gay Welsh book to the genius that is Reputation, that you gave it everything you had, and sometimes it’s not enough, and sometimes, weirdly, to continue the Reputation theme, the people you thought were there for you aren’t.

That’s the thing with writing books, even silly little gay books that someone already called ‘lowbrow’ …we sacrifice a lot to create them. The idea that I could be doing something entirely different career-wise, and be considered ‘successful’ if I hadn’t chosen to publish books instead, is something I wrestle with every day. And, as Sondheim said, ‘the choice may have been mistaken, the choosing was not’ How much to carry on with that choice, in the face of rejection, failure, and so much more, is a hard one. Finding a balance between time and emotion is hard. I don’t really have the answers. What I will say is if your friends create something, do something they’re passionate about, put something out into the world. Support them. It doesn’t have to be monetary; a simple message or a share goes a long way. I almost cried when someone messaged me to ask when I had book events, because they wanted to try and go, even if they can’t go, the fact that they cared enough to ask is enough.

Because of that, for me, is what it’s always come down to: I care so much about the work. I cared enough to sacrifice a lot of things, to put the work in, to care where that motherfucking comma went (or at least pretend to). I just want other people to care too.

If you do want to hear me yap abotu books here are places you can do that…

10th June- WMC/Armadillo, 7.30 pm (no tickets needed 10% off in the shop for event attendees!)

20th June- Storyville Pontypridd, 1 pm (part of the Pride weekend events, see more here)

21st June, Griffin Books, Penarth, 2.30 pm (£6 or £23 with book purchase, Book here)

23rd June, Glamorgan Archive, 6 pm (Free but book here)

25th June, Cardiff Central Library (Free but book here)

27th June, Queer Britain (With Lisa Power!) (£15, book here)

30th June, Bishopsgate Institute, 12.30 pm (£8-16 book here)

And of course, Rainbow Wales isn’t just for Pride month! There will be a couple more events in July (maybe beyond). BUT if you, or your workplace, still needs a Pride Month speaker…get in touch (EmilyMGarside@gmail.com)

And if you’d like a copy of the book, I recommend Bookshop.org, where you can opt to support any indie (and maybe queer)bookshop you like!

Rainbow Wales has been out a few weeks, but with Pride month upon us once again I’m lucky enough to have been asked to speak at a few events this month. You can find me at the following:

10th June- WMC/Armadillo, 7.30 pm (no tickets needed 10% off in the shop for event attendees!)

20th June- Storyville Pontypridd, 1 pm (part of the Pride weekend events, see more here)

21st June, Griffin Books, Penarth, 2.30 pm (£6 or £23 with book purchase, Book here)

23rd June, Glamorgan Archive, 6 pm (Free but book here)

25th June, Cardiff Central Library (Free but book here)

27th June, Queer Britain (With Lisa Power!) (£15, book here)

30th June, Bishopsgate Institute, 12.30 pm (£8-16 book here)

And of course, Rainbow Wales isn’t just for Pride month! There will be a couple more events in July (maybe beyond). BUT if you, or your workplace, still needs a Pride Month speaker…get in touch (EmilyMGarside@gmail.com)

And if you’d like a copy of the book, I recommend Bookshop.org, where you can opt to support any indie (and maybe queer)bookshop you like!

A slower reading month because life has been chaotic, but I devoured each of the following:

The Boyfriend Academy - J.S Strange

You might know Jack Strange from his romcoms (which are delightful too), but The Boyfriend Academy is a speculative fiction YA book set in a boarding school against a backdrop of an altered but also all too familiar world. A world where couples are paired up out of school for marriage, where everyone is assigned their own role in life by the schools, and the world is divided into these people and others…in that the book dives into the lives of boys at the school while they grapple with who they are, but also question what is actually going on outside. It’s gripping, think The Hunger Games style dystopia but set against a future version of Wales. Dying for a sequel already.

Oh and you can catch me and Jack speaking about his work at Bookish Abergavenney on Wednesday, 22nd July (details here)

The Build a Boyfriend Project - Mason Deaver

One thing about me: I love a self-referential romcom/romance novel. So the fact that this book spends a chunk of a chapter referencing romance tropes while being a romance, no notes. It feels very classic 90s romcom too, with one character working in a magazine, setting up fake dating for an article. That too, we have a transman main character whose trans identity isn’t the story or ‘issue’, just makes this even more delightful.

The Outrage- William Hussey

Another speculative fiction piece that hits way to close to home. A future world where traces of LGBTQIA+ culture are erased from public life, where children are policed on everything from haircuts to not reciting the party line…feels dangerously familiar. But as with JS Strange’s book, the idea that young people will question and rebel feels like a bit of hope in these increasingly darker-feeling stories…

Watching

Your Friends and Neighbours (Apple TV)

I’m so happy my favourite mid-life crisis is back. Jon Hamm robbing his rich friends partly for the lols, partly to avoid working in corporate America, is hugely relatable, actually, and I love that we always want him to win and lose at once. Hamm proves his great comedic skills and a bone-dry delivery that make him incredibly endearing. It’s even more brilliant in that it’s based on a true story, because there’s nowt as queer as rich folks. Another great example of Apple TV throwing money at the right things.

The Pitt (Now)

I’m watching in ‘real time’ on UK streaming, so I’m behind the Americans on this. But I remain fully addicted to Doctor Robbie’s, not quite a midlife crisis, more a midlife breakdown. As a certified connoisseur of medical drama, this is both refreshingly new and incredibly familiar as a format and executed brilliantly. Dr King is my new bestie, and Dr Abbott is everyone’s night shift boyfriend. Plus a lad from Barry starring in it, what’s not to love?

As a side note, this did inspire me to start a rewatch of ER for baby Noah Wyle, but life has been busy, so I’ve only got one episode in so far, but that’s going to be Winter 2026’s project. Shout-out to my friend Paul, who has diligently watched one episode of ER a week since 2020.

Rivals (Disney)

Never has the phrase ‘my body is ready’ (Tumblr circa 2012) been more apt for a TV show. Furthermore, there’s not a single misstep in this show. Episode 2 might quite seriously be the best executed episode of TV this year. It’s exquisite TV- it’s glossy, over the top escapism, because none of it is life or death, it’s daft rich people backstabbing and shagging (sometimes at once). It’s female gaze-driven (thank you, Dame Jilly), and everyone is having the best time. The shirtless hot men might be fun, but actually, David Tennant in full-on bitch-mode is giving me life. It’s such a conundrum, on one hand I’m utterly repulsed by him, on the other Tennant is having such a good time with it, and I can’t actually look away. And also a moment for Danny Dyer, his wig, and being the most endearing man in the Cotswolds.

This month also saw the wrapping up of two staples: 911 and Grey’s. I’m pleased to report that neither gets any less ridiculous. I genuinely think the 911 writers are at times on a mix of cough medicine and caffeine, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. As for Greys, the women of Seattle will finally know peace from Owen-Fucking-Hunt.

Listening

Maise Peters- Fluorescence

I’m a Maise girlie through and through, and while ‘The Good Witch’ will always feel like Autumn to me, we now have a fully summer Maise album. It’s a delightfully bouncy, fun summary with lyrics that cut through. Personally, I can’t get ‘Vampire Time’ out of my head, and I’m not mad about it.

Bleachers- everyone for 10 Minutes

Apparently, the new Bleachers have divided people…regretfully for the haters, I’m in the love-it camp. I love that I was about to say “experiment,” but I am going to say “mess about with their sound,” and I’m enjoying whatever this is. ‘We Should Talk’ is a favourite, and feels like the kind of thing nerds of the internet circa 2012 (which is named checked) would write, and I’m here for it.

Also devastated, I missed the on-sale of the tour, and Bristol is sold out.

Doing (Fun)

Relatively speaking, not much, but not in a bad way…this month has been quiet-ish. I went to London to see Aidan Turner in Les Liaisons Dangereuses, which gave a pleasing, filthy Aidan bookend to the month. London is already unbearable in summer, which doesn’t bode well, as I’m rounding off the month back down for a work thing, but also to revisit The Producers. Yes, I could have seen something new, but April, who was having a really rough time, figured seeing something I know I’ll love was a good move.

Otherwise, summer doesn’t mean no ice skating, so there’s been that, and steady quiet progress there. And the gym bootcamp I accidentally joined a few months back, and despite it being the kind of thing I usually hate, actually…kinda love seeing the bunch of random people every Saturday morning.

Doing (work)

My book was launched! It’s a weird on this time around with the book being out in May but most events being Pride-month oriented, so it felt a little like ‘here it is…Bueller…Bueller…’

But at the end of the month, I’m rounding off with two kinds of ‘what the hell’ moments. Firstly speaking at the Hay Literature Festival, which I believe is the second largest literature festival in the UK (behind Edinburgh) and not somewhere I ever saw myself speaking…but speak I did, in fact accidentally ending up chairing the panel we were on because our chair was delayed and only made it for half of it…Hay is such a nice experience, and they treat every speaker the same as the famous people; everyone gets to go in the green room, gets a free (fancy!) meal, gets escorted to your book signing…it’s actually all a bit mad. But getting my Hay flower (they give one to every speaker and have done for years) was a real ‘wow’ moment.

Following that, this Friday (kind of cheating as I haven’t done it yet), I’ll be leading gallery tours with the National Portrait Gallery. Which again is not a sentence I thought I’d write. But also to give myself credit comes from both hard work in the background, and being willing to say yes to a lot of random things. Of which I’m thrilled, this is one.

More on the event here

And next month the book tour continues, with Pride month in full swing and you can

see me at the following places…

One more, I’m thrilled to announce with Siop Armadillo in Wales Millennium Centre

Did you self-publish it?

Short answer: No, my books are traditionally published non-fiction works. This would be a valid question if asked with good intentions… alas, it’s usually asked to dismiss my book(s) and, simultaneously, those who self-publish. I’ve had this when I’ve said I’ve written x number of books ‘oh right are they self-published’ as if the only way to be slightly prolific is to somehow ‘cheat’ the system (Which is how a lot of people see self-publsihing) or when showing off my book-baby ‘so did you publish this yourself’ as if I was a toddler presenting their best artwork.

These actually damage both ‘sides’ of the publishing industry- they imply that self-publishing is an ‘easy’ option (it’s really not) or lesser (again, it’s not). But also the idea that whatever book is being waved in front of them isn’t a ‘proper’ book…hmm, is it because they’re gay books?

How do you get a publisher then?

Ah the eternal question! Personally, as an academic, I initially had my sights set on academic presses, of which I’m published by one (my Angels in America book here), but the short answer to a long process is…submitting proposals. Some (more than you might think, actually) non-fiction publishers will take un-agented submissions. You pull together ideas, write sample chapters (it’s usual not to have the whole thing written in non-fiction as publishers will likely want it tweaked to their specific ideas). You apply to a few of them, and maybe get offered a deal. There’s a lot more nuance to it, but aligning with and researching what else they’ve published, proving your expertise (you don’t have to be an academic, just have a particular expertise in your area), and hoping that you hit on something that they want…but also remember that there’s a niche for everything.

I do have an agent now, but only one of my books is via my agent and while yes, they can access some publishers you can’t, and have some more leverage in things like contracting for non-fiction authors, it’s not a must to have one. Though yes, the occasional ‘cc-ing my agent for reference’ can have a pleasing ‘as per my last email’ impact.

Do you get paid for that?

Depends on the book…

So, for academic publishers, we do get a royalty, but a very small one, and, of course, academic books (particularly the expensive ones!) don’t sell very well… we’re talking a few hundred copies a year/a lifetime, depending on the book (some even less!). So a decent-ish academic book might (might!) bring you in a £100 or so a year in royalties…or you might wait five years to get £50…it really depends.

And yes, that means you did months/years of work for that.

In contrast, a ‘trade’ book (so one aimed at a general audience, the kind you’d see in Waterstones etc) usually comes with an advance, which means it is a sort of ‘retainer’ against future earnings- the publisher is paying you x amount out of your future royalties. So once the book starts selling (which hopefully it does), you don’t get any more money until it ‘earns out’ its advance in your % of royalties. Then you get that 10-12% of them.

So yes, I get paid, no, I don’t earn my living off them, but actually neither do most authors (even the famous ones). Most authors’ main income streams come from other kinds of writing-related work outside books, such as journalism, speaking engagements, teaching, etc. Or if you’re Richard Oseman, hosting tea time quiz shows.

Related to that (book money not Richard Oseman) the question I get most is the very sweet:

Where is the best place to buy the book that gives you the most money?

This is so lovely of everyone who thinks to ask, but the honest answer is: it doesn’t matter. My percentage is the same regardless, so I’d rather you’re just intentional with your book shopping. So while it doesn’t benefit me either way, if you can support an indie bookshop (Which you can do from anywhere via bookshop.org I would LOVE you to do that (bonus points if it’s a Queer bookshop).

How do you book events? (book-book events?)

Short answer: hustle.

Personally, I do enjoy this side of book writing, but with the exception of events via my publishers (who are GREAT at this also, but not every publisher has the capacity to do this side of things). I literally just…ask. I email bookshops and other spaces that host events and say, ‘hey want a gay to talk gay things?’ and sometimes they say yes.

So if you want me to talk gay things at a gay event…ask!

Related….

Why aren’t you coming to x place? Why are you only doing y place?

Short answer: Nobody invited me.

Most places get a bit annoyed if you just rock up on a random Tuesday and start talking about gay history in their space. Also, odds are nobody else will be there. But in all seriousness, I have to ask or be asked, and I’m one person with several other jobs. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn’t.

The other side of this, too, is…I’m having to do this in my spare time, and the book events aren’t paid. I love doing them; they’re beneficial to me and my book, but mostly they aren’t paid (some lovely places do have the funds for it, but not many). So I either have to be able to get there fairly easily around other commitments, or make book-talks and the like part of a bigger holiday/trip. I don’t mind doing the latter sometimes, but I can’t always for example magic up a weekend in North Wales at the same time as a book festival, so sometimes I just can’t make it to these things- we’re all doing this around various day jobs and life and as much as I’d love to be doing a tour of all the bookshops possible, it’s just not…possible.

(I’m aware that this suggests people actually want to hear me speak, and I’m not implying that’s strictly true, but people do ask)

One directly from my hairdresser now….

Is it mostly gays at your events?

This one was my hairdresser. I don’t know, I don’t ask to see their gay card on the way in, but if it’s more gays, girlies and theys, then probably a better time for everyone?

In all seriousness, no, obviously you don’t have to be of a homosexual persuasion to read my books. I’d argue they’re mostly more of the nerdy persuasion, like I’m aware that you have to be particularly invested in either a specific play/musical/TV show to enjoy most of them and while yes, they skew a bit gay, gay is not a prerequisite (just a bonus). And yes, we do allow a token or Straight or two at the events.

Is it all gay stuff? Why does it have to be gay stuff?

Did you need permission to write about them/that?

This comes up a lot when you write about people and short answers…no. In the same way a newspaper doesn’t need permission to write a story, neither does a non-fiction book.

Obviously, we try not to write anything that will get us arrested, and so far as someone trying to celebrate people, not write an expose that hasn’t come up. Similarly, we (and by which I mean the publishers and I) fact-check as much as is reasonably possible.

But no you don’t need permission to write about people, just a hope that they will quite like it if you’re nice about them.

Did you interview them all?

This keeps coming up for Rainbow Wales, no, it’s not based on interviews, which would have been a different kind of book. Also, not to put too fine a point on it, many of them are no longer among the living, and as much fun as a seance with Ivor Novello sounds, I decided that wasn’t a very practical use of my time. Maybe next book.

Did you write it yourself?

All by myself, I’m proud to say that at the age of 42, and six books in I am just about able to string a sentence or two together.

But in all seriousness, yes, but also, there are a lot of other people who help. Books go through several rounds of editing and proofreading, and it does genuinely take a village to get from A to B, and I’m lucky to currently work with a really great village in Calon.

Is it all gay stuff? Why does it have to be gay stuff?

I don’t know, Susan. They say write what you know…

Do you know anything about rugby now?

Having now included not one but two rugby people in a book of mine,

I can categorically say…I still know nothing about rugby.

Will you sign a book for me? Do you mind?

I personally love to deface books. In fact, if you can find an unsigned one, it’s worth a fortune.

What are you working on next?/Will you write another one?

I’m always shocked people seem interested in this. And despite the usual response to finishing a book is a traumatised ‘well I’m never doing THAT again’ I am in fact incapable of chill, so yes, I have the already announced Queer TV book (here) out next year. I’m also working on a book with an academic press about a little show in a little town called Stars Hollow. And because I have precisely zero chill I’m also working on another proposal for a book that is something of a curveball given my above notes on rugby, but that I’m really crossing everything that happens.

Oh and if anyone would like to publish my Queer fiction, give me a call.

Where can I see you talking about gay stuff?

I’m so glad you asked….

Rainbow Wales, Queer Icons, past and present, is finally out in the world.

While the work of getting book contracts, writing books, and promoting books is in fact work, its not one that I take for granted for one second. It’s a privilege to be able to do this, and to have even one or two people think my words are worth reading.

Sometimes publication days can feel a tiny bit anticlimactic…all that work and then…it’s just out there. But books don’t provide instant feedback, so sometimes it feels like throwing the thing into a void and just…waiting.

Luckily, I have been invited to a wonderful array of events over the next couple of months to talk about this book (and I am open to doing more events, drop me a line if you want to collaborate!) Here are a few places you can see me speak:

It really takes a village to make a book and a huge thanks to Calon publishers who all worked to make this the best version that it could be - and for continuing to believe in me as an author.

Thank you as well to every person who has ever bought one of my books, come to an event or shared my books with someone else. I appreciate every one of you.

Reading

I accidentally had a ‘food and drink’ themed month here, and also have read substantially less than usual, but that’s ok, despite what TikTok says, not everyone is reading 100 pages a day.

I lucked out early in the month that someone had clearly dumped an array of Queer books in my local charity shop. And so I obviously also did the only obvious thing and dropped all of my TBR for one of those. Namely, Timothy Janovsky’s ‘You Had Me at Happy Hour’ is a cute romcom, where enemies to lovers is the sommelier and cocktail barman (emphasis on cock…), cute, fluffy…I still know nothing about wine, but I had a good time.

I also picked up ‘Taste’ by Stanley Tucci, which I also found in a different charity shop (in Belfast, in fact). My only criticism is of my own choice to read, not listen to him read the audiobook, because that would have been pure pornography. Possibly more so than the spicy book above, in fact. But aside from that, it is a delightful combination of autobiography and reflections on how food shapes us.

I didn’t intend it this way, but these two led into the main event this month…my friend Mikey Bell’s new book, which I was lucky enough to get a sneak preview of. ‘How an Egg Saved My Life’ is a story of Mikey’s life with food, from cooking at home in a valley’s kitchen, through some culinary ‘adventures’ in Uni, to falling in love with food (and with boys). For anyone in a particular Millennial age bracket, this book will scream to life your experience through its pop culture references and the ‘vibes’ of early 2000s teen and twenty-something life. More than that, though, Mikey captures perfectly lots of what it meant to be Welsh, or Working Class, or LGBTQ, or indeed any and all of those three at that time. All while tracing a line through life with food. And he won’t mind me saying, without being Wanky-American-Blogger about food. It’s out in July, (buy it here) and I can’t wait for the world to read it.

Listening

I cannot lie, my music tastes are incredibly dull this month…I am cycling through my usual Taylor Swift playlists at the gym, throwing in some Bleachers to work to, and gave the new Noah Kahan a listen because I am subject to the algorithm as much as anyone… but that’s about it.

Oh, and I can’t get that Tame Impala song out of my head.

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Watching

I have never once claimed to be original in my tastes, and for that reason, I make no apology for the fact that ‘The Pitt’ has consumed my TV watching time over the last month. I first watched it on a plane last November, but it was a little bit stressful for a plane journey so I stopped two episodes in. I also need you all to know I am not a binge watcher, never have been- and by that I mean I’m a one episode a week of something girlie. So when I say I went through ‘The Pitt’ series 1 in two weeks, you know I’m addicted. For someone who loved 24 back in the day, and who has been addicted to medical dramas since Casualty as a child, this is very much my crack. Add to that the fact that all the characters are so well developed, interesting, and actually engaging. And unlike ‘Greys’, I don’t currently want to throw anything at any of them (Owen). And grown-up Noah Wyle is well…that.

The only thing I am disappointed in about the Noah-Wyle renaissance is that I named a character after him a few years back, then wrote a joke that the character’s mum named him after Noah Wyle, and now it’s no longer the weirdly niche reference I wanted it to be.

The fact that I watched ‘The Pitt’ for two weeks straight means I’ve basically watched nothing else, but I have dipped back into the new season of ‘Virgin River’, which remains the most ridiculous melodrama, and I hope it runs forever (and I feel Charmaine will still be pregnant if it does). I’ve also been keeping up with the world’s dumbest Firefighters in 911, and in niche-ish nerdy things, was delighted when they soundtracked an episode with ‘Carry on My Wayward Son’ (I will not be elaborating, you either were there or you weren’t).

Finally, against my better judgment, I’m still watching MAFS. Men continue to have the audacity, but also at the risk of the botox-ed orange girlies branding me ‘not a girls’ girl’ this season has demonstrated the viciousness of women as a pack when someone doesn’t fit in (or they decide she doesn’t)

What I’ve been doing (work)

Mostly preparing for book release (as the plethora of other blogs will attest!) while juggling an arts project I’m working on and a (semi-secret? Mainly in case it goes nowhere) series of research interviews for a new project. At some point, too, I hope to have a bit more balance to get back to fiction-writing properly. And time to breathe, that would be nice. There’s a weird lull this week and last before I can do anything/events start happening for the new book,

so it feels like an incredibly busy but also limbo period of work.

What I’ve been doing (fun)

Hockey season is over!!

More importantly, the team that so many dismissed earlier in the season as a waste of time, only went and won the damn playoffs! Second in the league and playoff champions? I’ll take that.

In all seriousness, I was both so proud and so emotional about the win. The team deserved it, and I feel those of us who believed in them, or at least stuck by them all year, felt a certain sense of pride and accomplishment, too. It’s not just about the winning, but it sure is nice to see. But also this year truly cemented what hockey means to me- I might not have been there with the team to see the win, but I really felt part of something.

What now? Well, firstly, a few weekends without somewhere to be is quite nice, a chance to see a little daylight also. But in addition to that, the summer is, ironically, when I traditionally get more time to skate myself, so no time off from the rink.

A little reminder that my book is out next week (!) and here are some places you can hear me talk about it (if you’re so inclined)

As the publication of Rainbow Wales fast approaches, it seemed a good time to share an extract. The book takes a relatively bite-sized look at an array of Queer Welsh Icons, past and present. And one such current Icon is Artist Nathan Wyburn.

I chose this extract partly because Nathan is so far the only person in the book to read their extract, and he assured me he loved it, so that seemed like a good place to start putting it out in the world….

Nathan Wyburn

Another artist who embraced his sexuality in his work, and perhaps is a neat parallel to McBean in the world of celebrity, is Nathan Wyburn (1989– ), a gay man from Ebbw Vale. He is known for his pop-culture portraits made from unusual materials but also, locally, for his ‘Wyburn & Wayne’ duo (with friend Wayne Courtney). Together they create online content, present a radio show and host events across the arts. He is also well known for his advocacy for LGBTQ+ rights, and his love of local drag and music.

Wyburn studied at Cardiff School of Art & Design (Cardiff Metropolitan University) and first came to prominence with his portrait of Simon Cowell, which he made with toast and Marmite. In a September 2015 interview with the BBC, Wyburn said of his work:

It is current to current affairs and current to pop culture. I don’t see why that should not be shown in a gallery, in the Tate Gallery or the National Gallery… I do strive to be taken seriously. It would be nice to get that sort of recognition.

At the time of the interview, he had just learned that he would be taught as part of the GCSE art curriculum in Wales, and he described the possibility of himself being mentioned in the same lesson as his hero Andy Warhol as ‘mind-blowing’.

His focus now continues to be celebrity portraits, and he has also created works of art for the Prince and Princess of Wales, King Charles III, Mariah Carey, Dame Shirley Bassey, Sir Tom Jones, Debbie Harry, Sting, Catherine Zeta-Jones and The Jacksons.

While his art might seem frivolous, he hasn’t shied away from political commentary: in 2012, Wyburn created a portrait of newspaper mogul Rupert Murdoch, made from 5,000 images of the alleged phone-hacking victims. As the scandal broke out, the portrait appeared on the front page of the Guardian. This interest in political and social justice-related pieces continued with a portrait of Margaret Thatcher made out of coal, shortly after her death. The artwork won first prize in a nationwide open art competition, ‘Britain’s Got Artists’.

In his work, he also explores his LGBTQ+ identity. In 2012, Wyburn created a portrait of the then newly re-elected President Barack Obama, painted on a Pride rainbow flag, inspired by Obama’s support for same-sex marriage. He has also made portraits of prominent Queer artists, including Alan Carr, Schitt’s Creek creator Dan Levy and, recently, fellow ‘Queer Welsh icon’ Callum Scott Howells (see Chapter 3). In August 2020, Wyburn unveiled a picture of gay rugby player and friend Gareth Thomas at Cardiff Royal Infirmary’s Department of Sexual Health. The portrait was made using red fingerprints to symbolise blood and identity; the aim was to erase the stigma around HIV. Wyburn also created a picture of Terrence Higgins for the Terrence Higgins Trust, which was unveiled in the Senedd building and now hangs in St Fagan’s museum galleries. He said of the work:

As an artist who comments on and reflects on key social issues, and a proud gay man, being asked to mark the fortieth anniversary of the Terrence Higgins Trust is a huge honour. I’ve stayed with my unusual way of using everyday relatable items to make the art – this time it’s stamps in the shape of the charity’s heart logo. I wanted to make something that showed Terry as a young Welshman, so I thought why not quite bluntly turn him into the Welsh Dragon of our flag? The colour palette of green and red ink instantly showcased this.

In 2014, his work was more ‘traditionally’ exhibited in the Cardiff Story Museum (now the Museum of Cardiff). His work generally tends to be either given to the person depicted if it is a portrait, or displayed in non-traditional environments. For example, in 2024, for Pride Month, a pop-up exhibition in the Red Dragon Centre cinema complex in Cardiff Bay featured some of his LGBTQ+ portraits. He’s also fittingly been included on Ripley’s Believe It or Not website, which suits Wyburn’s non-traditional approach to sharing his work. Generally, his work gets widely seen via social media. He began by sharing his work on his YouTube channel to give an insight into how he creates his unconventional artworks. In 2015, he also published a book, Not That Kind of Art, which featured eighty of his pieces. He continues to work on bespoke projects for site-specific and/or event portraits, such as the 2016 image of Albert Einstein made out of thousands of Smarties, created for Cardiff’s interactive science museum, Techniquest.

As noted, he doesn’t just make portraits, he acts as an advocate for the arts through radio shows, magazine columns and on social media. Known locally more recently as part of the duo Wyburn & Wayne, together with friend Wayne Courtney, he has been a real advocate for local art, particularly grassroots musical theatre and drag. One such initiative was the duo’s part in the Dragged to Church show and fundraiser. In 2018, St Andrew’s Church in Roath, Cardiff, needed funds to repair the building and maintain it as a community space. A group of drag artists and LGBTQ+ creatives got together to save the church by hosting a drag show. This has since become an annual event, and the first fundraiser inspired a film, produced by Welsh actor Eve Myles. The duo’s relationship with the church didn’t stop there; Wyburn and Courtney set up a coffee shop in the courtyard to continue fundraising for the church, which does a great deal to serve the local community. They aimed for the project to be a welcoming community space for, in Wyburn’s words, ‘any religion, race and sexuality’. The space has continued to evolve through fundraising and has hosted a range of events, from drag shows to a musical-theatre café and a Taylor Swift night. Wyburn said of the concerts: ‘So, doing something like this with the coffee court, it just seemed perfect because we like to talk to people. We like to smile, and we like to chat.’

This work is locally focused on the church as a community space, but it is also firmly embedded in the drag LGBTQ+ community, bridging a connection between all the communities that Wyburn belongs to: the Welsh local community, the artistic community and Queer groups. He might have risen to fame using Marmite, but few would argue he’s a ‘Marmite’ artist; there’s much to love about his work. He is also part of the new wave of Welsh artists reinventing, as art always should, what it means to create visual art and drive the art form forward with a mix of Welshness, Queerness and personality.

Rainbow Wales is out on the 7th May 2026; you can order a copy here.

Not quite so dramatic, maybe, but today is the 30th Anniversary of the musical Rent, and for those who perhaps don’t know me as well, it’s important because, well, firstly, I’m a Millennial Musical Theatre dork. But secondly, I wrote my PhD on it. Thirdly, I survived Rent: Remixed, and that quite frankly speaks for itself.

My relationship with Rent is complicated, or at least has been in recent years. I wasn’t a first-wave Renthead, partly because I was 11 when it came out and living in Cardiff, Wales, so the East Village was pretty far from me. Secondly, I didn’t get into musicals until about 5 years later, and even then, Rent was never quite as big a deal in UK circles. My relationship got complicated, as most do, when I wrote a PhD on it. There’s a certain love-hate that comes with the territory there, and for a while, I was very done with it.

Not so done, mind you, that I wouldn’t go ten rounds with either a snobbish theatre queen who doesn’t like anything written post My Fair Lady, or the endless Gen Z trying to understand a Gen X world of musical bad faith takes. But mostly, I was done.

But I think if a musical shaped you, like Rent did me, you’re never really done. You might grow apart for a while, but you always find your way back home, and for me, home somehow is a loft that nobody is paying for in the East Village.

For those Queens and the Gen Z, what is it about Rent then? Why spend so much of my life, and yes, measure in so much love? But also, why did I fall out of love for a while? And what brought me back?

These sound a lot like Mark’s angst-ridden questions, I realise.

I’m a firm believer that if you love Rent, it found you when you needed it. For me, it found me the same time as the other half of my PhD did- Angels in America, about a decade before I wrote that, I found Rent, as most theatre kids do, while deep in my discovering all the musicals I’d missed era. Specifically, I remember listening to it on a portable CD player on a bus going down Sherbrooke in Montreal, trying to stop the damn thing from skipping. When I eventually did listen on a stationary CD player, I was soon rushing to the depths of Broadwayworld and the Dress Circle forums (if you remember that you are my people, and possibly traumatised).

I finally saw Rent on Broadway in December 2004. Once again, my ‘it finds you when you need it’ narrative holds true. I was just turned 20, living in another country, oh, and my Dad had just (massively inconveniently) died as well. Oh, and I was massively queer but not really doing anything about that. I saw it for the first time and fell in love. I saw it a second time that week and… fell apart. That’s the best way I can describe to you what happened in that theatre, a falling apart and coming back together in the best possible way.

Rent gets a lot of flak from both younger audiences who weren’t there at the time, but also those of a ‘too cool for Rent’ mindset who were. And the truth of it is, if it doesn’t mean anything to you then it wasn’t meant for you, and that’s ok. Those of us who it means something to aren’t blind to its flaws, but we’re connected to it. You cannot tell me there is any flawless musical in existence. We don’t love Rent because it’s flawless, we love it flaws and all for what it means to us.

This, too, is where I’m compelled to remind people that Rent is an unfinished work. Larson died before the final dress rehearsal, and as a result, we can never know what he’d have changed even in the off-Broadway run, let alone over the next decades. Lord knows if Hal Prince can take Cliff out of the closet in Cabaret, then Larson could have written Roger a better song. But also, living composers revisit their work, they allow changes to productions- heck, Sondheim let us gender flip Bobbie because he was around to oversee it. Rent is only frozen in time on an evening in 1996 because that’s when Larson died.

But also leaving that aside, there’s nothing wrong with a nostalgia piece. So many pieces are ‘of their time’ and remain frozen in amber that way…and that’s why we love them. We don’t watch My Fair Lady and insist that its politics align with today (I personally watch it and want to shave at least 45 minutes off it, but that’s personal preference). Or even precursors to Rent in Hair are of their time for a reason- they speak to that time. As does Rent. Does it do it imperfectly? Somewhat, is it a blunt tool for what are incredibly nuanced issues of politics? Yes, of course, it’s a 2.5-hour musical. Are there characters who could use a boink of the nose with a rolled-up newspaper? Yes, but so could the entire company of Cats (except Rum Tum Tugger, I hear he likes a different kind of spanking).

The point is that Rent spoke to a moment, a particular generation of musical theatre fans that hadn’t felt seen before. And it fuelled those fans, it created two generations of musical theatre actors who came up through its ranks. It, by his own admission, fuelled Lin-Manuel Miranda’s composing career, and where would that same generation now grown up be without that (and my theory is the Rent generation thinks In the Heights is his superior work, and we would be correct). It created new ways of doing things, not as a carbon copy but in a way of thinking about musical theatre and what could be done.

But you know what else Rent did? It made us feel seen. As young people, as Queer people. Because at that point, yes, the only narrative was AIDS and exclusion, but Rent turned it into something hopeful. It also said, ‘Here is a community, a people who care for you.’ I still have to search really hard to find a bisexual woman in a musical; I still have to search hard to find lesbians in a musical (though odds are that Tracie Thoms will be playing one of them). It’s still rare to hear two men sing a love duet.

And we found community in it. Rent was the first to do Rush tickets, and people met on the steps of the Nederlander Theatre, forming friendships that endure to this day. Those of us far away found friends online, first through our love of the show, perhaps the first queer people we knew, too, but bonded over our love of musicals, of stories that meant something.

In 2021, I sobbed onto the shoulder of a friend at the Hope Mill Theatre’s Rent. It had been, it’s fair to say, a rough year or two at that point for us all. I’d already fallen out of love with theatre a bit, and with this show. The theatre industry and academia will do that to you. But sitting in that room, with theatre fans who felt as I did about it, watching a company create it again out of the ashes, out of adversity, reminded me why I loved it. Why will it always be part of who I am?

Rent raised so many of us that we can see its flaws for what they are. We may leave it for a time, but we’ll always go back home.

And today as always, thank you Jonathan Larson.

And if you are so inclined to be nerdy about all things Rent…I wrote a book about that. You can buy it here.

My new book, Rainbow Wales comes out in two weeks, and alas, no, this won’t be the last you’re hearing about it because I don’t have an army of publicists behind me, so it’s me shouting into the void for the foreseeable.

What I wanted to talk about today is the personal side of writing a book. Because whatever the book, it is personal.

I thought for a while that this book was the least personal of those I’ve written. Everything else has come from a thing I’m deeply nerdy about in some way- the plays of my PhD, TV shows I’m passionate about, things like that. This book came about through conversations with my publisher and a slow-burning ‘oh that seems like an interesting idea where can we take it.’ So, for once, I was learning as I wrote the book, rather than coming at it with ideas somewhat fully formed about what I wanted to say and why.

I’ll be honest, too. I thought I was a good fit for this book because I was slightly removed from it. I’ve never been someone who presents my identity as Welsh-Welsh. I did think that I wasn’t that patriotic. I think what I actually meant was ‘I don’t care for rugby or the Sterophonics’, which, when I was growing up, was equated to Welsh patriotism. What actually also writing this book unlocked was the push-pull between Welsh identity and Queer identity, and actually feeling like perhaps the two were incompatible for so long. How can you really be patriotic if nobody representing your country is like you?

Turns out, though, I am fairly Welsh-Welsh, mainly when English people try to tell me something about my country that is not true, or make comments about our accent, language, culture…or reduce us to being just Gavin and Stacey. I mean, truly, only half of them are actually Welsh for a start. And one of them is James Corden.

This book then became about the coexistence of identities, and the ongoing wrestling match I have with the LGBTQ+ community, that not all Queer folks have to look and act the same about their Queerness, overlapped with the ongoing wrestling match I have with my countryfolk, that not all Welshness, and pride in Welshness, has to look the same either. What started out as not personal at all, became a personal wrestling with both…something that still has no clear-cut answers, but that’s ok.

Meanwhile, there’s the personal side of Queer folks writing a Queer book. I’ve been very honest with my publishers about my fear of backlash; writing a Queer book always comes with that. Writing a Queer Welsh book feels like dangerous territory, because whoever I put into this book, whoever I leave out…someone will be upset. I spent too long in the writing of this book hearing very specific potential backlash that I’d given, say, ten more words to this person over that person, or this person wasn’t included at all…because sometimes that’s how needlessly fractious our community is. But as the author, despite some of those decisions being made with the help of my wonderful Publishing team…I know I’m the one whose DM’s will be on fire if someone takes issue.

And it’s hard, because as an author, it is a personal decision to a degree, what you write about, how you present it, who is in and who is out in this case (pardon the pun). But you’re also playing a game/playing by some rules. Mainly, in most cases, the rules of ‘nobody wants to read a 500-page book’ and ‘books are expensive to produce’ mean you have limited space, limited time. And you’re also trying to tell the story of the book as best you can, so yes, it’s filtered through your personal lens. So it is personal, but also worrying about the potential ‘Why is H from Steps there and I’m not’ from potentially anyone ever to be gay in Wales is…something that’s going to end up in my inbox, and that’s something you worry about.

The pressure, too, is greater for Queer writers. If a white straight man wrote a book about a collection of other white straight men he thought were awesome…well, firstly, that would be the dullest book ever published, but likely he wouldn’t have The Fear (not least because White Straight Men seem not to have any, just audacity). But as Queer authors, we are immediately in the firing line both from the homophobes and our own community. I don’t think it’s out of line to say that, as a community, we can sometimes be our own worst enemy. In our attempts to do right, we often turn on each other. We put so much pressure on any Queer work to also be all things to all Queer people, and it’s the Queer writers behind it who get burned.

The final personal element for me always comes with putting the thing out there- not so much readers and reviews, which I largely see as ‘not my business’ (reviews are for readers, and it rarely does an author any good to read them). But in doing events. I said to a friend this week that I currently have The Fear that I’m going to turn up to an empty room to speak in. And you know what, if it happens, it happens, indeed, for us mere mortal authors it does happen sometimes, and that’s ok.

But what hits the personal is the support you both do and don’t get when putting a book out there. It might be one of those litmus tests of who is really on your team…who shows up when you have a silly little book out.

I want to start by saying I don’t expect anyone to part with their money for my books. Times are tough, and while I obviously want to sell books, I also don’t want anyone who doesn’t have the spare £20 to spend it on my silly little book. That’s not what ‘support’ and showing up look like for me as an author. Most book events offer free/low-cost tickets for just attending without a book, and please don’t ever think we see that as ‘not good enough’; someone taking the time to show up is always good enough.

I will also be brutally honest, that sometimes, as a writer, when you put stuff you’ve worked so so hard on out in the world, and you get no support from some corners of your life, that stings. The realisation that either maybe these people were never in your corner, or maybe there’s a sense of not wanting to see you win…or just not caring enough to show up, even in the smallest ways for your wins…that does feel personal. Showing up for your author friends doesn’t have to cost anything or take up too much time to be meaningful.

That’s really what I mean by the personal element of support: showing that support. And there are loads of free ways to do that, sharing on social media, telling friends, getting the book out of the library (please do this! It helps me and libraries). And those people who share about my books…I see you, I value you so much. And you know what, it’s also often people who take me by surprise here, people who I know, but who I didn’t think were invested in my books or what I do, I’m always wonderfully surprised when I see something pop up that someone shares. Whenever I see someone sharing about the book, or that they’ve even read the book…just know that brings me such joy.

Because it is all personal. We’re not doing this for money or fame (alas, I shall never be Richard Oseman), but we are doing it because we believe in what we’ve written and want to share it with the world. But also, we’re human, we want to feel supported, celebrated even in those achievements, and we should allow ourselves to feel both the pride and occasional disappointments of that. So just know that when you support an author’s book, you really do make a huge difference to their day/week/year.

Buy Rainbow Wales here.

Places you can see me talk books….

Look, I’m not proud that that has been stuck in my head since Tuesday, but I am what I am and what I am is a Millennial musical theatre nerd.

And look, if you can’t have a little bit of a dark sense of humour about what your brain does in the face of impending doom…when can you?

For the record, not a fan of Saigon, but a man on the internet once shouted at me for spoiling the end (some 25 years after the premiere), so I have that as my fond memory of it…

But in all seriousness, that’s what I’m here to talk about in this blog: the idea of all the ‘shoulds’ in these… unprecedented times we live in. Let’s face it at this point, the unprecedented is well, precedented. For the aforementioned Millennials among us, we’ve lost track of how many ‘once in a lifetime’ events we’ve now lived through. And at this point yes, we’re surviving them through memes…and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

A couple of weeks ago, relatively recently into the latest world catastrophe befalling us, a well-known, if annoying, journalist posted on his Instagram a variation of ‘WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THIS’; ironically, my rage, a ‘WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THIS’ is what I’m here to talk about.

Does that make you happy, Owen Jones? (Yes, I failed at veiled anonymity there).

Because the gist of that journalist’s posts, and your average armchair activist, is always shouting ‘WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THIS’ at the average person, who…has no power over whatever ‘this’ is.

There’s a crucial difference between sharing posts for news/information and doing so during the ongoing downfall of both reliable news outlets and ever-corrupt social media platforms, which is both needed and a double-edged sword. There’s always a place for sharing the ‘hey you might not have seen this news because mainstream media might not report it’ posts. There’s also always space for posts about ‘what you can do practically’, but also understand they may be relative to where people are based. So, for example, there was zero point in me, a Brit, sharing information about what Americans can do re: complaining about the latest shenanigans from their President. Just like the Americans don’t need to be sharing about the Sennedd elections here in Wales in a few weeks. But here’s where the ‘whataboutarry’ comes into play all too often: yes, the Americans knowing who to email/phone is important, but it’s not really something I can influence directly.

Similarly, the ‘I don’t see you posting about’ guilt trips do nothing…No, I don’t personally choose to post political posts daily, because largely, to be honest, I believe my friendship circle, the ones seeing my socials, are politically engaged and intelligent enough to seek out information without me forcing it on them. Again, an occasional ‘hey I hadn’t heard about this happening/seen this information so you might not have also’ is useful, but my Instagram stories should not be a source of anyone’s news.

Nor are my Instagram stories a measure of what I am reading/caring about.

Yes, social media is for sharing news, activism and all that good stuff. But it’s also a social platform, a place to share cat pictures and memes. People should be allowed to use social media for just that and choose to get their news and do their activism elsewhere. Just because you don’t see it on their Instagram stories doesn’t mean it’s not happening. But also simply talking about it is not necessarily doing anything. I’d personally rather folks were out taking action where they can- attending protests if they can, voting tactically, writing to MPs, supporting charities…all are far more effective than the kind of performative activism the ‘nobody’s talking about this’ calls promote.

But on top of that, there’s also a crucial other element, the ‘People are just going about their day like wars aren’t happening’ mentality, or ‘you’re not talking about x’is true. There’s no denying it, some people, yes, through ignorance. Most people simply… have lives to lead.

If we are lucky enough not to be directly affected (in an ‘our lives are at risk’ way) by war, to stick with this example, then yes, our lives are carrying on. Because while we may have empathy- and indeed fear, anger and all the rest- for that situation, our own lives must continue- will continue- whether we let that situation consume us or not. We still have jobs to go to, children to look after, local politics, issues, problems… our own individual activities, particularly any of us who are marginalised in any way. It’s not that we don’t care, or we are unaffected, or apolitical; it’s just that life is relentless, and we still have to get up in the morning and go to work.

Similarly, life cannot stop, and neither can joy, art or just yes memes. Look at any conflict, any dark time in history, people still had joy, made art, life carried on. Life finds a way as a dinosaur once said. Just because a person is enjoying joy, a meme, or just their everyday life, doesn’t mean they don’t care… it just means life goes on.

Or as the quote about AIDS era Queer communities put it: ‘During the darkest days of the AIDS crisis, we buried our friends in the morning, we protested in the afternoon, and we danced all night’ (most often attributed to Dan Savage).

Joy, distraction isn’t a luxury at times of great distress, they are necessities. A means of survival in themselves. And if you’re berating people for having moments of joy, your activism isn’t real activism, it’s performative.

But that also means you simply can’t go about every minute of every day caring so deeply about every single terrible thing that is happening in the world. We just wouldn’t function. We have to compartmentalise, we have to step away.

That doesn’t mean that too, the things happening in the world don’t get to us. I, for one, was scared this week. Being both a child of the 1980s and a historian whose previous work focused extensively on the Cold War, well, actually, it did not feel like a good day to be informed (what day does lately). Do you know what all the people ‘talking about it’ did for me then? Made me even more scared than rationally was useful. Because here’s the other thing, I can be as informed as I like, I can be one of the ‘talking about it’ people, but there’s also very little that I can do about certain things. Reading about and posting about the possibility of impending doom does not, in fact, stop that doom from happening. I unfortunately cannot social media post my way out of world leaders making terrible choices.

So to quote a playwright who also wrote through times of great distress, ‘I save my hate for where it counts,’ and I also save my ‘talking about it’ energy for where it counts. Will I share election information, as my country goes to the polls next month? Yes, because that might positively impact something, and is something I can control. That really is the line for staying sane in the face of *gestures wildly*

That and yes memes. Because we need humour to survive this, or at least try to survive this. Your activism, when it’s sincere, isn’t any less impactful because you also laughed at the meme first.

And truly are you a Millenial if you didn’t read this and think ‘hoke so…’

My new book Rainbow Wales Queer Icons Past and Present is out in one month! As Taylor Swift once said ‘it’s been a long time coming’ because I appreciate whenever an author is banging on about their book, it feels like they’ve been talking about it for a long time before it’s actually out there…

But in a month not only will people get to read it, but I’ll get to talk to people about it, which is my favourite thing. Because whenever I’ve written something it has (thankfully) turned out to be something people are super interested in to….and often have their own thoughts, memories etc associated with the thing I’ve written about.

Well that and the handful of Doctor Who nerds who had Opinions on my Russell T Davies book…

For this one I’m really excited to hear from people about their own ‘Queer Welsh Icons’ the people they knew about who were Welsh and Queer who shaped them…but also the ones maybe this book opened up.

That really was the motivation behind this. Not really ever to write a history of Queer Wales…others have done that far better than I will, and I tip my hat to Noreena Shopland and Darryl Leeworthy in particular for that. This work is more a continuation of their foundational work, where they charted our Queer history in Wales I wanted to shine a light on the more contemporary Queerness that has perhaps shaped us in the recent past and present.

Really, it’s a celebration of the diverse Queer folks from Wales, and where their Queerness and Welshness meet. I also think it’s worth noting, including some folks who would consider themselves to be adopted or better, yes, ‘chosen’ Welsh, because in Queerness we believe in chosen family, so also why not chosen nationality if a country has become your home? It’s worth noting too that, of course, all the wonderful Queer folks who contribute to Wales aren’t in here…there was never going to be space, but I hope too that this inspires everyone to embrace and celebrate all kinds of Queer Welsh Icons.

I’m aware of that too; the Icons in question will not be to everyone’s personal taste. But perhaps in reading about them- in reading about a rugby player when you prefer drag queens or vice versa might open all of our eyes to the experiences of Queer folks in different spaces, at different ages, and how that has shaped our community as a whole. I certainly learned a lot about queer experiences from people geographically close to me, close in age to me, but who had hugely different experiences from me.

Similarly, this book is, yes, pop culture heavy. And I will die on the rainbow hill, that is how this book should be. It is not ‘lowbrow’ to include a 90s pop star, or a set of Drag Queens, or a footballer. It is our country, our culture… and they are just as important as the writers, artists, and activists alongside them. Yes, actually, H from Steps belongs as much as Lisa Power. I know they both had an impact on me in different ways, and I’m sure others will say the same.

The brilliant thing about writing this book was being spoiled for choice, the difficult thing was editing it down. I really hope when I get to talk about the book, the main thing I talk about isn’t me, but the readers/audiences and the Queer Welsh Icons that have influenced- and continue to influence- them.

Rainbow Wales is out on 7th May; you can pre-order it here.

You can catch me at the following events (more to come).

Bookspace Cardiff book here

Queer Britain Book here

Bookish here

Hay Festival here.

Swansea here

Spoilers abound for Paradise (seasons 1 and 2), so proceed with caution. Also, I guess for Gilmore Girls, but if you haven’t seen that yet, that’s on you…

The town in Paradise is Stars Hollow.

This in itself is nothing new; the Stars Hollow set, which is still up in the Warner Brothers lot, has been used for many series since Gilmore Girls wrapped, either in its entirety or in bits. So that included while the show was in production, and Friends, which filmed on the studio set next door, used the outdoor lot for scenes in flashbacks mainly (the One with The Prom Video most obviously). Other contemporaries included Ghost Whisperer. Various houses pop up on Pretty Little Liars, Dexter and The Mentalist. And the town went from Connecticut to Alabama for Heart of Dixie.

The set and ‘Stars Hollow’ with its distinctive gazebo and Luke’s Diner and main street behind it were, after all, designed to be ‘anywhere small town America’ which is why it’s so interesting (to this nerdy brain) that it pops up in Paradise.

For anyone reading who hasn’t seen Paradise, the idea (spoiler spoiler) is that following an apocalyptic event, a chosen town full of people is living in a bunker under a mountain in Colorado (yes conspiracy fans, much like the Cheyenne Mountain Complex theory…) and the idea is that the town was designed…to perfection. Down to the people (characters) selected to be in it, along with the exact design of the ‘perfect American small town’ so people would forget about the outside world while they were in there.

Two things, if we take a darker look at Gilmore Girls…that’s kind of the same thing. It’s the perfect vision of a perfect town, but never quite… by the end, everyone is at least the worst version of themselves (except maybe Kirk). They are selfish, self-involved, flawed… human, yes, but not the perfect town of perfect people Stars Hollow looks like on the outside. The parallels of you can create a perfect world, but the ‘American Dream’ that Gilmore Girls sells, and Paradise was re-creating, is only as perfect as the flawed humans you put in that perfect American town. So far so every horror film ever made granted. So far, in every undergrad TV essay, I enjoy that parallel, but it’s not the reason I wrote this short piece.

The thing that scratched the part of my brain was the question: But does Gilmore Girls exist in the Paradise universe?

And the answer is probably yes.

Dan Fogelman goes out of his way to litter Paradise with pop culture references, from Xavier’s kids being called Presley (as in Elvis) and James (as in Giant Peach). Season two in particular ramps up the pop culture, making a point of it. First, when Annie sits out the apocalypse in Graceland (I feel the Elvis connections are going to come back around somehow), but while Link and co visit her, they make several pop culture references and ask Did you get that’. Later, when Sinatra (again with the naming after pop culture icons) is giving President Bradford a tour of the bunker, they use several pop culture analogies- Star Wars, The Lord of the Rings- to explain the situation to Bradford. That also Xavier or ‘X’ was originally assigned to a character played by the actor who was in X-Men alongside Professor X is, I’m sure, just a coincidence too. But I digress.

Paradise is at pains to point out its cultural literacy; it exists in our world. That, in part, is to ensure its worldbuilding, and the thriller/apocalypse element hits home. This is our world, one that we could be existing in right now, and as the show swings more towards Sci-Fi in the next season…what does that mean? A parallel world, maybe…but still a recognisable one. But it does stand to reason that if Star Wars, Elvis, Lord of the Rings, Roald Dahl exist in the Paradise Universe…then so does Gilmore Girls.

So, in fact, did Sinatra and co actually deliberately design the town to look like Stars Hollow? The familiar TV reference point as to what a safe small town in America looks like? It’s plausible. The entire premise of them curating the right kind of people (casting a TV show…) to fit in their perfect microcosm of the town. But also the entire premise of choosing the people was to make the town as harmonious as possible (you know before people started murdering presidents and such)...and so wouldn’t it have been the ultimate control move by Sinatra and co to design the town around a beloved TV show, a space where people felt safe, because they’d seen it so many times on TV as a safe world to exist in…the perfect fantasy of American life they now got to finally live.

Maybe.

The second question is: were we also supposed to make that connection?

Maybe also.

Because for a creator who is so media literate, who went out of his way to point out so many other pop culture references throughout the season…who in the finale not only shot the iconic Gazeboo at the centre of many shots (when lots of other less recognisable areas of the town are available) as well as shots along the main street clearly looking almost identical to its Stars Hollow days…people who know will know. Equally, the final shot in the town, before it blows to bits, was of Sinatra with her child, looking into ‘Luke’s Diner’. For those who know Gilmore Girls, you know the last shots of the first episode, and last are…looking through the window of Luke’s Diner (at Loereli and Rory, mother and child).

It might all be nothing, it might be Dan Fogleman being as much a TV nerd as the rest of us and playing with some visual Easter Eggs, given they film on that lot…or it might be some form of meta commentary. Maybe Miss Patti will cameo in season 3 to teach everyone the maypole dance…anything is possible.

While we’re talking season 3, a moment please for the Denver Airport conspiracy entering the chat…and if you’re not versed on this, you have until next year to deep dive into some very weird rabbit holes.

All this very niche deep dive aside, if you haven’t watched Paradise it was my top show of 2025, and already a contender for 2026. It’s one of the best written thrillers I’ve ever seen and has some of the most fascinating characters in it…also one of the most terrifying hours of TV I’ve seen (Season 1 episode 7, if you know…you barely breathed to). Watch it.

Returning to my much neglected stack of hockey non-fiction reading this month, I’ve been delving into Doug Gilmour’s autobiography. Which means I keep repeating ‘You should start with Dougie Gilmour’ out loud every time I see it (iykyk, etc.). But it is a really lively, personable look at the world of hockey as it was in the golden years of the Toronto Maple Leafs in particular (anyone remember that? No, not really…)

I also read Leading Man by Justin Myers, which was a great, witty look at life in the mid-30s. Following a teacher who has always been a wallflower, I personally love a story that leaves certain threads unresolved, while also leaving you cheering on your protagonists. And this did both.

In addition, I continue to make my way through the Game Changers series, and while yes, as I keep saying, that needs its own post, my love for book series I’ve had since I was a kid- where different stories overlap, and you can stay in that world- is what I love most about these books. I love the overlapping timelines and the way you can see a moment from one couple’s story alongside another. What I also love in reading the whole series is seeing everyone’s favourite chaos bisexual Ilya become the Pied Piper of queer NHLers, if there’s a queer boy in a locker room, he’s there…and adorably helping them out. Also, the immortal exchange ‘how was your first time in a gay bar’ ‘it had more NHL players than I thought’. Never was my love of a book series more cemented than the inclusion of a puppy, and a stropy Russian’s love for said puppy. Am I ready to leave this horny-hockey universe? Probably not, but we’ll always have the cottage.

Watching

Unfortunately for me, I do still worship at the altar of MAFS and the return of the very best of the genre: MAFS Australia has me in a chokehold once again. I like to think of it as a nature documentary for observing straight people. The wild notion that if they don’t immediately want to rip off the clothes of the other person at first sight, it means the relationship is doomed is a wild, fascinating take, and the audacity of men remains unmatched. Same old MAFS then.

In the midst of that, the loss of the wonderful Mel Shilling, midway through this season airing, is a true loss- in an obviously batshit show, a kind, caring human who was no age to be gone.

Elsewhere, the return of Paradise, which was my top show last year, did not disappoint (I say optimistically with one episode to go). One of the best thrillers on TV in recent years, though not perhaps the best choice to watch while certain world leaders decided to push us ever closer to similar world events. However, Sterling K Brown is compelling and, as ever, playing the biggest nerd who is needlessly jacked.

Like almost everyone else (or at least a certain brand of Millennial TV nerd), I am also jumping into The Pitt now that we finally have it in the UK. I watched the first two episodes on a plane last year, which got a bit too stressful for in-flight viewing, so I’m looking forward to diving back in.

I cannot let a couple of milestones pass without mentioning Grey’s Anatomy. The show has been on for 21 years now, and I have watched this show in real time since the first episode. I have given exactly half of my life to this show. With largely no regrets. These stupid Doctors have kept me company through a whole lifetime of my own chaos while delivering chaos squared themselves. When I started it, James Pickins jnr was the ‘bad guy’ Agent Kersh from The X-Files, and I was never going to like this guy…now he’s my longest serving TV dad. He’s also been trying to escape that hospital for two decades. For me, Grey's Anatomy is everything that I want in long-running TV, predictability and unpredictability combined. It has a rhythm, a predictable structure, every episode adheres to the formula of proceedureal drama soaps…and yet it still makes me gasp/yell out loud. It still makes me cry regularly; it makes me cheer for the characters I adore and have sat with for years. They are, at this point, real to many of us. No show has emotionally damaged us like Greys. None of us will forget 007, McSteamy, or Eric, who we also lost this month.

But you know what, Grey’s fans won’t do? Forgive Owen Fucking Hunt. Who is FINALLY leaving. The man is a life-ruiner; he ruins lives (mainly those of women in his vicinity). And he’s finally leaving. With all love to Kevin McKidd, who is an exceptional actor, not least for making me hate this man with every fibre of my being….but Greys, I need to see a body. Otherwise, I won’t believe the women of Seattle are free of having their lives ruined, please and thank you.

Listening

I finally listened to Harry Styles' new album, and while it has provided some background noise for the gym, Harry, this time it’s not the one (for me, anyway). So there’s something positive in now having the willpower to go into battle on Ticketmaster- I’m probably not going to be that sad about missing his concerts (and let’s be honest, schlepping to Wembley is never something I want to do willingly).

Meanwhile, I’ve had Dean Lewis’s ‘Empire’ on repeat all month, in one of those ‘this is what I listen to while I work now’. And a bit of anger at the world led me back to Self Esteem’s album for some angry stomping walks. I’d love to see her on stage, but my aversion to David Hare plays prevents that particular adventure.

Finally, I was putting together some teaching on Sondheim, which led me down a series of YouTube rabbit holes, and all I can say is that early 2000’s Sondheim productions did a number on me. I present to the jury my holy trinity.

Sweeney Todd, 2005 John Doyle Production. Starring Michael Cerverais and Patti LuPone.

Company, 2005, John Doyle Production, Raul Esparza and Patti LuPone (one of the only men I will accept as Bobby now).

And the GOAT: 2006 Chocolate Factory Production, Starring Daniel Evans and Anna Jane Casey/Jenna Russell.

The latter may just be my villain origin story.

Revisiting them, and frankly, all the Raul Esparza that YouTube had to offer, was a joyous trip down memory lane. And while I still struggle with my relationship with theatre- I’m not as in it as I used to be, and that has me doubting my love of it, these productions remind me that the things I do love are imprinted on me forever.

Bonus, I’ve been listening to this on repeat since I found it…

Doing (Fun)

It’s still hockey season (the last full month, I can say that). But this month saw a hockey-bucket-list moment ticked off: going to Belfast for the Double Header (sounds filthy). Every year, the team goes to Belfast to play back-to-back games over a weekend. Originally a logistical choice, it’s become a big fan weekend, with yes, a lot of drinking (for other people, I didn’t drink at all the whole weekend). We went for Mum’s 80th Birthday, which had been the month before, her choice- she was offered alternatives and chose Belfast and hockey. Big fan of the Big Fish situation though.

What I learned is I am not and never will be a Titanic girlie (or was the ‘experience’ museum just not great?), but that Ulster museum was great, the city is a great one to explore, and if you go in with hockey expectations on the floor, you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

Other than that, I feel like while I am slowly coming back to life, March was spent very much recovering from the December-Febuary book sprint and generally the depths of winter, so not much else other than hockey was done.

Doing (Work)

In a weird lull for March, where the big chunk of writing work was done, and the promo for Rainbow Wales hasn’t kicked in yet. That said, to link back to two weeks ago and my post about what it takes to put a book out there, the work starts kicking in again with a book coming out. While I’m lucky to have really supportive publishers who help with promotion, to really give you and the book the best chance, there’s so much pitching, searching for potential events, and figuring out how to balance it all.

It’s also been a time of job hunting again, now there’s space to pause between book chaos, and figure out (maybe) what the next phase looks like…which is frankly depressing right now. Being ghosted after an interview, I feel, is the lowest point of job hunting, and that happened last week. Not just the lowest, but the rudest: if I (or any candidate) take time out from their existing work, spend time driving to, preparing for, and just meeting you in person, the least we can expect in return is an email letting us know the outcome. Sadly, the bar is so low that places don’t even see fit to do that anymore.

That rant over for now, here’s (So far) some of the book-related events I’ll be doing…

Queer Britain book here.

Bookspace Cardiff Book here.

Hay Festival (wtf) book here.

Depending on your nerdy predilictions, that’s either Joseph Welch at the Army-McCarthy hearings, or Louis Ironson, in Angels in America, or if you’re me, both.

It’s also what I hear in my head when I think about the way both job hunting and the world of employment treat us. Especially if you have any kind of disability, or frankly anything at all that makes you less than a robot. That Welch was actually asking for McCarthy to desist in his relentless attack on a young lawyer, actually, it is an apt line to repeat.

As I write this, I’m still waiting to be rejected from an interview I went to five days ago. Obviously, I know I haven’t got it, but the simple courtesy of rejecting people who wrote an application, created a presentation, got in a car, and attended an interview… well, an email doesn’t seem too much to ask.

‘Have you no decency?’

No, apparently not.

Anyone who has been out there knows at this point there is no decency to be had. Even in, dare I say, especially in sectors that we feel should know better. Insert Tyra Banks ‘I was rooting for you’ gif here. Don’t tell me my pop culture references aren’t multifaceted.

Let’s start with some lowlights of the past few months in job applications.

The job that rang me up and said, ‘You’ve ticked disabled on the form…can you walk up stairs?’

….

Now obviously, yes, it is good to check that your building is accessible, but a little more tact and nuance certainly wouldn’t go amiss, would it?

There was also the job that, for a ‘screening call’ required a task that would take over an hour to complete, and resulted in them being given labour/intellectual property for free. Don’t get me wrong, I think a presentation in an interview can actually give you a real chance to show off your experience on your terms, in a prepared way that can be really helpful in selling yourself. But what I will not do at this point is engage in free labour or give ideas away for free. I will also not do anything that is excessive work for an early-stage interview. Another utter gem in a presentation was the feedback, which was ‘too detailed’ (even though I’d kept exactly to time, apologies for being…too efficient?!)

Other gems in the interview trenches have included a question being asked in Welsh for a role that wasn’t a Welsh-speaking role. There was also an interviewer who told me I couldn’t use the same job for an example more than once (a bit tricky if you’d had the same job for a decade before doing that interview, I’d imagine). Oh, and the man, after 45 minutes of speaking to me, with my CV in front of me…called me the wrong name.

Those are just the low-lights of interviewing.

Adding to that, the requirements and, well, the audacity of jobs themselves if you’re offered them has risen…shall we say. Or at least I’ve had a run of bad luck. There was the job that when I said I could start in a month (standard notice period here in the UK) insisted I’d said in the application I could start on the 1st of the next month, when I pointed out I wouldn’t have said that because I was going to be on a plane home from Canada at taht point I was apparently the one in the wrong.

I’ve had numerous examples of part-time jobs saying they would authorise me to have another job (again, I stress these are part-time jobs that don’t pay enough to live off…). My personal favourite when asked about social media rules being told ‘we’ve decided we aren’t political on our personal social media’...Given I was running a workshop on LGBTQ+ activism that very weekend, that wouldn’t have lasted long (and just for clarity, this wasn’t a politically adjacent job, there’s a reason I don’t apply for such things, mainly I do enjoy saying ‘Fuck the Tories’ far too much to give that up for a paycheck…).

Then there was the job that didn’t indicate travel in the job description, told me there would be a lot of travel in the interview, but when offered the job and asked for an indication of said travel…couldn’t tell me how much it was, and also weren’t offering overtime or time off in lieu for it…

Mostly, I can laugh it off.

‘It’s not personal, it’s business’ after all, to quote another favourite of mine (You’ve Got Mail, obviously not The Godfather). Most of the fuckery out there isn’t personal, has nothing to do with me and often is an indicator that this was not the place for me…. Indeed, one of the places referenced above has had 3 senior members of staff leave in the 2 months after my interview, indicating it was not the place for anyone.

But underneath all this is something that I feel very judged for…firstly, the idea that I’ve been ‘unemployed’ for two years. Firstly, if I had, I wouldn’t judge anyone in this economy. Secondly, I haven’t; my job hunt has been sporadic, interspersed with other fuckery (funding applications and waiting games), freelance work, and book writing obligations.

Secondly, yes, I am being particular about where I end up working. A privilege I have because of the freelance work I’ve been able to cobble together to keep me going. But also a necessity for my health. I’ve gone through a decade and a half of suffering to the point of breaking, rebuilding myself and breaking again in every job. When in 2024 I finally got my autism diagnosis, I had an explanation for that, and since then, I’ve been trying to figure out if not a solution, then an approach to manage that. For me, a huge part of being able to live better as an autistic person is my work situation.

It didn’t help that the last job I had broke me down so much because of my autism that it’s taken me longer to rebuild. I got to the point of breaking down in panic attacks before interviews because I was so scared of what another job like that looked like. So again I stopped, rebuilt, did some therapy, and am back trying again…but trying again to find something that is sustainable for me.

‘But you’ve managed before’

It looked like I managed, until I didn’t because it’s always ‘you managed’ until it’s ‘oh my god you can’t keep a job’. It’s always ‘you’re not that autistic’ until my autism actually disables me, or does something that is inconvenient and needs accommodating. It’s always ‘you’re capable’ until you reach your breaking point and repeat the cycle again.

So I’m trying not to repeat the cycle again.

So yes, I’ve been careful about my decisions, because the negative impact on my health and wellbeing has been so great. Does that also mean I feel worthless? Incapable of finding meaningful work? Disillusioned that I’ve spent so long working so hard, and also can’t seem to get a role that is both sustainable for me and sustains me financially. Yes.

In truth, I do feel worthless and hopeless, yes, I do blame myself for being useless. But I’m also caught between that and knowing I am capable of things, I have achieved things and knowing there are things I am good at…just not being able to find the right place to do them, or someone to give me a chance to.

I don’t have the answers. But I wanted to write this to draw attention to yes, the abject fuckery of the job market right now. But also to say in that, we are not being unreasonable in saying ‘I won’t do x or y’ that knowing your worth, not just in monetary terms but in how you’re willing to be treated, is important, no matter how much audacity the job market has.

Of course, if anyone does know of any part-time roles for someone like me- I work in charity project management, community projects, volunteer management, and comms/marketing. I also teach, run talks and workshops and much more- all outlined on my website here.

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This is both news and not. In principle, I feel most people know book writing is hard, but also in practice, unless you’ve actually written one, including going through the frankly at times batshit publication process, you wouldn’t really know all that goes into it.

Anyway, in January/February, I found myself in the privileged position of having two books to edit at once. While that is, I am under no illusions, an amazing problem to have…it is also a frankly ridiculous workload/way to work/place to find yourself.

I always have more than one project on the go- I say to my playwriting students, be writing one and re-writing another. Something about that works for my brain. Usually, too, when I’m up to my eyes in non-fiction edits, I’m writing some kind of fiction towards the start of the process, because it keeps my writing brain engaged, but a different kind of writing brain. Or I’m developing a new proposal idea, which keeps my ADHD brain happy when it’s bored with the one I’ve worked on for so long.

But doing the development edit on one, and the final copy/proofs on another? 11/10 do not recommend.

What that meant in practice was I was doing deep thinking/revisions/reseearch pulling apart and putting back together what is frankly a monster of a book, while also trying to refine and polish another, which at this point I’d last edited so long ago I only had a vague memory of what I wrote (like Ross in Friends I remember shockingly little of my own work).

The way it works, again, for those who don’t know. You write the book and send it off. Then at some indeterminable point in the future (because publishing timescales work in a timezone of their own), you get the development edit back, which is basically the ‘big picture’ critiques. Things you’ve missed, things they think could be expanded, things to be cut, queries about the sense-making, as well as some high-level proofing/editing of your writing. This is the biggest edit, and the one that takes the longest, because you’re quite often doing extra research (I was, for example, finding a lot more press reviews/material for mine as well as adding in TV shows that had the audacity to be successful in the interim). Depending on the book, it can be a fairly substantial rewrite, not because it’s bad (I don’t think mine was bad) but because with time, space and another set of eyes, you can make it better. But also because it’s far easier to put a book on the page start to finish in the first instance, than it is to do surgery on it, sometimes at a high level, chopping up chapters, sometimes at a sentence level, moving words. It’s fiddly, it’s like when you move one thing in Word, and the whole thing shifts, and you start formatting again…quite literally sometimes. It’s also ‘big’ thinking, is this saying what I want? Have I covered it all? Has this person been cancelled and needs cutting out?’ etc et

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This was the Queer TV book, and it’s just a big book; there’s a lot going on, a lot of questions over what goes in how it goes in and in how much detail. So it felt like a lot to hold in my head. While also for most of it, having the Glee soundtrack in there, too, somewhat against my will.

What happens after that is copy edits (closer, smaller edits to refine the flow of the thing and fact-check), then come proofs and final edits. The further down the line you get, the more microscopic you’re getting, the more fiddly, finicky. That’s where my other book was: final proofs. That’s a very different headspace. That’s triple-checking facts and sources, and debating a word at the sentence level of checking. That, for me, is the worst kind of checking for my dyslexic/ADHD brain as well. It also does not mesh well with being in the ‘big edits’ stage of the other book, because proofing, too, is reading the whole thing over, and over.

Basically, it’s a lot, in terms of volume of work, but also a lot in terms of mental overload, especially when you’re switching between the two.

This round broke my mind and, to a degree, my body in ways none of the previous books has. I think a combination of the sheer volume of work- double essentially- and the mental load of two very different points in the editing process that are equally intense, really finished me off. The month of February (not helped, well, by being February) was tough mentally. Not just because editing a book is draining, it is, but also the self-doubt, the fears, and the worries about ‘what am I doing’ seep in. I don’t mind admitting I felt really alone in it too, because ‘I’m drowning in book edits’ doesn’t sound like it’s a bad thing, or a damaging thing, but actually the stress, the mental load of it all, the neurodivergent additional strain, along with going worries about ‘what now’ for work, income…did make it feel draining and isolating. Because at the end of the day, there’s only one way through it, and only you can do it.

But also, all that starts to create the ‘why do I do it?’ as well. Asking ‘is it worth it?’ because this isn’t going to ‘change my life’ pragmatically. Some days when I feel like I am sacrificing a real income, a steady job, something sustainable…I wonder why I bother. I’ve lived the last six years saying ‘do the next book and then see’...it’s less sunk cost fallacy more ‘I didn’t come this far to come this far’... because slowly, steadily I have managed to build up momentum, a platform, call it what you want…progress, I guess. But it doesn’t look like traditional progress, not like ‘getting promoted’ in a 9-5 would look. Because it does involve a lot of sacrifice. Sometimes that’s cancelling a holiday, often it’s turning down other plans. But it’s also realising you can’t do certain jobs if you want to keep writing, if you want to keep building on what you’ve done so far.

And it’s a Catch-22, to throw in all the book cliches. Being burnt out and stressed because you’re trying to finish two books and not earning a proper living could be resolved by throwing it all in and getting a steady, full-time job. But then that feels like throwing away the chance to be… well, stressed and overwhelmed again while trying to write a book and earn a living. But also the idea that in doing this, in making the sacrifices to write the books to the outside world, it just looks like a ‘fun hobby’ and not ‘real work’...and there’s the difficulty because it’s knowing it won’t ever alone pay the bills, but knowing too that you’ve worked really hard to build up so you can’t give it up just yet.

There is a love for it, or I wouldn’t do it. Personally, I love the next phase just as much - as we move into publication, I love pitching to places for events and organising them (yes we do that ourselves too, with help from the publishers but they’re only able to do so much), pitching to magazines etc (again same thing) and of course getting to talk about the book. Not everyone loves that, but I love to teach, and some might say the sound of my own voice (why else write?), so I do. There isn’t really, aside from say referencing, which I feel, if anything, can be given to our robot overlords, that which I hate about writing, or the process of creating books. If there was, I wouldn’t do it. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t work. That also means doing one thing: having this part of your life, you don’t sacrifice another, whether temporarily or long-term. Be that your sanity, social life and sleep for February, or earning potential and traditional jobs long term.

Much like book edits, the opportunity to write books won’t be there forever, which is why I’ve kept up such a pace with writing while the opportunities are there. It might not be conventional, it might not be Richard Oseman-level book sales, but it’s something I’ve worked for and put the work into. Which also means it’s something to be proud of.

So now we move into that phase with the Rainbow Wales book: the proofs are done at last, I have a physical copy, events are being booked, and the thing is almost out there.

And if you have a group/workplace that would like a queer speaker for Pride month, get in touch…

Places you can hear me chat books so far…

Book here for Cardiff

Book here

Book here for Hay

There are many reasons for that- the bigger picture of women, especially being mocked for any fangirl tendencies, but also on a more personal level, you know, when people around you judge any passion you have for something. But this blog really is about my taking back that passion once again, not in some huge declaration, but slowly realising no, I’m not going to apologise any more for it.

Let’s start with the negative side, shall we? There’s always been ‘acceptable’ fangirling and ‘not acceptable’. In the 90s, if you cried when Take That split up, that made you ‘normal’, because boyband fandom for teenage girls is normal. If you obsessively talked about how you were going to marry Robbie/Jason/Gary (did anyone really want to marry Gary?), you were normal, because teenage girls are supposed to want to marry a boyband member, and actually being obsessed over that is totally fine. If you wore a Giggs T-shirt to non-uniform day, you were ‘normal’ because that’s what lads liked, and if you were a girl, you fancied him, and that was also normal (there’s going to be a pattern here).

But if you were a teenage girl obsessed with, say, a Sci Fi show (or several) or a book series (before there was an online niche for that). Then you were ‘weird’. If you liked fantasy world-building games, sci-fi stories, or big books with maps. You were weird. That’s not how you fangirl; that’s weird and geeky. If you loved musicals and knew every actor, writer, and director, that was weird. But not weird if you know all the boyband lyrics.

Straight men go to sports all the time and obsessively talk about sports. Their ability to recite stats for whatever football, rugby or cricket team they love is not judged as a marker of them not being a functional heterosexual male. And there are many reasons to judge straight men, but, in my opinion, the ability to reel off rugby stats is not one of them. Go off, fanboy, if you’re reeling off stats, you’re probably actually a proper fan, not someone in the pub to start a fight.

But for women, especially any love of anything fannish- yes, even sport- is considered a mark of silliness, immaturity. It personally baffles me that both in my youth and now, the idea of getting shitfaced in a pub or club and shagging someone is seen as ‘mature’ and acceptable ‘normal’ behaviour, but loving something really deeply and wanting to talk about it, do activities connected to it (mind out of the gutter) and learn about it is seen as…less mature, less acceptable, ‘silly’.

Now that’s not to say you’re not welcome to get shit faced and shag whoever you like. Absolutely, if that brings you joy, crack on, be safe, drink water. But equally, if reading nerdy books and talking to fellow nerds brings me joy, why is that lesser?

Speaking of lesser, my nerding has also brought me, I’m really lucky to say, so many professional opportunities. From my PhD to my books, everything is borne out of a nerdy passion that started as a fangirl hobby. While there are downsides to this- professionalising your hobbies has its pitfalls obviously, I also know that the skills I learned as an amateur fangirl in research, reading, analysis and yes passion, all serve me hugely in this thing I’m lucky enough to call my professional passions too. But I’m also aware that people see my work as ‘silly’.

I have a new book out this year, and already I’ve had comments about the fact that yes, H from Steps and Drag Queens are included in it alongside people who are viewed as ‘serious people’. I’m very aware that people think that writing about TV is ‘easier’ than the work in other sectors of non-fiction and academia. Mind you, academics are so snobby; I’ve had some try and tell me that History was also not as important a subject as theirs, so you know, take a grain of salt with what some of that lot think. I’m aware, though, that what I do is dismissed as ‘silly fangirl nonsense’ by many.

And you know what? Fine.

Because I know the silly fangirl nonsense matters. I know that being a fan of something matters because it’s always mattered to me.

But because of all the above, there have been times when I’ve tempered it, moved away from it. Think ‘oh well I shouldn’t’. Sometimes that’s a natural fading of one fannish interest into another. But every time I think I’m done being a fangirl, something else comes along and reminds me why I love it. Because it’s like a light being switched on.

Being the basic bitch I am (and yes, I like basic fangirl things like Taylor Swift and gay hockey shows), this hit me over the head this year when, yes, like everyone else, I got super fannish about the gay hockey show. I know people who still haven’t watched it basically because…people spoke passionately about how much they loved it, and they are obviously too cool to like something that people (read women) are passionate about. What a sad little life, Jane…

But when that show got me (midway through episode three if we’re curious) it was like the fangirl light came on, the ‘yes this one, this is now the thing I need, hook it to my eyes and my veins’. I don’t know how to explain the fangirl light if you’ve never experienced it. I feel sad if you haven’t…the ‘this this is the thing i love right now’ feeling, but also it’s the feeling of ‘this will be my safety for a while.’ Because fangirling is also an escape, a safe place. Whether from the world (lord knows we need it right now) or even from ourselves. That’s why so many women, queer folks and neurodivergent folks are fangirls- because we need solace from a world that treats us harshly, but also a place to escape in our minds that feels safe from the day-to-day torrent that is in there.

‘I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind’

As Taylor Swift once said (and yes I was in the room when she sang that on the Eras tour thank you very much)

Because yes, Fandom provides the secret gardens in my mind, in our minds. That’s why we need it. Years and years ago, at a Doctor Who event, someone said to me, ‘I wonder what other people think about’, and that stuck with me, because alongside yes, the general hum of life, work and probable impending doom from the world we live in, I’m always thinking about something I’m fangirly about. Whether it’s Taylor’s next Easter Egg, hockey chaos, or gay TV shows, there’s always something running in my mind about it. When I’m in fanfic writing mode (something that is very sporadically activated but powerful) it’s writing narratives in the background, or it’s analysing and episode to write a blog about or talk to a friend about, or it’s whatever hockey drama the EIHL has cooked up this week (that to be fair activates the part of my brain that just loves the drama I do Mick). To daydream about something you love is such a gift; to have space in your brain taken up by something you love is such a gift, and to me, for those reasons, being a fangirl is such a gift.

It’s so hard to explain to someone who doesn’t get it what it does to you. The way your brain lights up when something you love is involved. The way a love for something- whether it’s Taylor or a gay TV show- can get you through the day just by thinking about it. Love is really the word for it. Community too. There are a lot of negatives about fandom community, but finding other people who literally speak your language, especially for those of us, women, queer folks, and neurodivergent folks, who so often aren’t heard, who don’t feel like we are equally part of so many conversations, fandom allows us to feel heard, and to connect.

That connection, too, is so powerful in the sense of belonging. This weekend I went away to Belfast to watch my Silly Little Hockey Team play Silly Hockey. While the hockey was better than expected, what hit me really hard was being part of something. I’ve had it happen once before, when I flew to Edinburgh for Taylor Swift, but being at the airport spotting people in team colours and merch and realising you were on a plane full of people going to do the same thing you were was joyous. Wandering around the city, playing spot-the-Devils’ hoodie/hat was joyous. Wandering around the city and running into people you knew, that was joyous. Feeling part of something.

To get to travel, to see different places, but also to experience something collectively, be that in this case a hockey game, but also to share it with people who care like you, is incredible. That was also a reminder that I have friends in this community. I was with my mum this time, but had I gone alone, I wouldn’t have been alone if I didn’t want to be. For someone who has always been on the outside of things, that’s hugely powerful. That, in person too (not on ahem certain internet spaces where I’m not sure they allow you without a 30-year proof of fandom) I was treated equally, as much a fan as anyone else, with an opinion, again to feel part of something is powerful.

It’s funny too, that despite sport being a ‘legitimate’ fandom (for men), it’s also still somewhat met with bemusement by some people in my real life. Some of the facts they simply don’t care about sport/are dismissive of any sport, which is fine. But others, who again, much like the other fangirling, think it’s silly, immature, a marker of me not having a grown-up life to live, so I’m invested in this silly sport. Funny, then there are so many ‘mature’ adults with partners, families, etc., who go.

But also, this sport, like my fangirling of all kinds, has got me through the hard times, of which in the last few years there have been many. There have been weeks where the thought of going to a hockey game that weekend is all that’s kept me going. I admit I’ve not actually read it, but Matt Haig is onto something with the whole ‘Reasons to Stay Alive’ thing. Sometimes, the only reason to keep going is, well, the prospect of missing us beating Sheffield. Flippant a little, but also not. The structure of the season, having somewhere to be each week even when everything else feels hopeless…that’s important. Having something to think about that isn’t just how awful everything is is important. Having people, that’s important.

Because with yes, caring about the silly little men with their puck comes people. I have people I see every week now, and from the small hellos and waves, relationships have become friendships; they are people who care at least a little that I exist and that I see them, speak to them. Those casual and not-so-casual relationships (again, mind out of the gutter) have made my life infinitely better. Especially as someone who was always so on the outside of other hobbies and interests. Not everyone might get it as a sport or a passion, but within it, I found something to deeply love, people who accept me, and, importantly, people I genuinely like and think (hope) like me.

So yes, it’s about a love of the game, the nerdy nature of it. But it’s also the sense of belonging that fangirling brings us, me. I have friends all over the world, I’ve met through fangirling. Some have been in my life for over 20 years now, some are newer, some have come and gone, and excitingly, I know I’ll meet more, because I don’t intend to stop being a fangirl any time soon. When that light comes on in my brain for something new, whether it’s something I love for a few months or 20 years, it’s a joy, not for the thing itself but for everything it brings with it.

Fangirling has taken me to places around the world I might not have spent time in without it. It’s given me the skills I’ve taken into my professional life and opportunities within it that I would never have dreamed of. It’s given me community, people I care about and places I feel accepted. It’s kept me going through dark times and given me things to simply… find joy in.

And if joy, community and opportunity are just ‘silly’ fangirl things, then I’m ok with that.

I’ve also been notably absent from blogging after a strong start in January, because book edits and a general being overwhelmed with everything have taken every last brain cell and ounce of energy.

Back to that later.

Reading

I have read nothing but ‘Game Changers’ books this month. Not even sorry. I got a deal on the paperbacks, and I’m just about at the end of Common Goal.

Proper reviews coming separately, but I’m not even going to style out that basic bitch life choice.

Watching

Like everyone else, the last two weeks of my life were consumed by the Olympics. There are three categories of Olympic sport in my mind: Throwing oneself down a mountain (Snow), Throwing oneself down a mountain (on a tea tray), and pissing about on ice (flat).

I have zero expertise on the first two, obviously. For throwing yourself on snow, my most common observation is ‘well I could do that’ (fall flat on my face). For throwing yourselves down an icy track on a tea tray, all I’ve got is ‘how do you discover you’d like to do that?’

Obviously, the pissing about on ice portion of the Olympics is my niche. For Curling my favourite fun fact is that curling rinks in Canada had licenses for the bar on a Sunday where nobody else did, so you could drink and curl; in fact, most people were drunk to curl…

For the Ice Dance/Figure skating, my favourite Olympics post was something along the lines of ‘Why am I suddenly upset about something called a twizzle?’ to which I say, take this sport up as an adult, and you can be upset about a twizzle every week. While obviously I was cheering for my Spice Boy and Girl, Lilah and Lewis, my heart belongs to Piper Gilles and Paul Pourier for that Van Gogh number.

Outside the Olympics, Shrinking is back, and that first episode was a punch to the stomach (cake, iykyk, etc.). But that show continues to be simultaneously the funniest, heartwrenching and human of shows. Jason Segel is also a highly underrated actor, in my opinion. That said, I’m not sure I can cope with ‘Marshall’ and ‘Robin’ getting it together. Oh, and the best use of Apple TV is having all the money and spending it on music rights for Harrison Ford to hum the Indiana Jones theme tune.

I’ve been rewatching Kim’s Convenience at lunchtimes after recommending it to a friend, so I’m also recommending it to all of you. Delightful Canadian comedy (based on a play), and Mr Kim is the ‘Appa’ we all need in our lives. If you like heartfelt family comedy with an occasional dash of silliness, it’s for you.

Just sneaking in this week is the return of Paradisde. My best show by a mile of last year, and I am going to NEED people to talk to about this.

Listening

My music listening when in edit mode is a very niche ‘what YouTube decides to play next’ for me… a mix of Noah Reid concert videos, musical theatre, and Taylor Swift acoustic sets. So that has been my day-to-day listening while working. Speaking of Noah, I actually put a dedication in one of my books (the Angels in America one) to him, because his music was all I edited that too. I really should give the man a copy…

Other than that, I performed a one-woman Reputation concert on a drive to Aberystwyth and proved to a bus of hockey fans that I don’t actually need the backing music to perform a rendition of ‘What is this feeling?’ from Wicked. Both of which are impressive in their own right.

Doing (Work)

Editing, editing and editing the Queer TV book. With a dash of proofreading, the Rainbow Wales book. I’m at the stage of ‘never doing this again’ feeling with both, but trying to remind myself that there's usually only ONE book to edit, and that the book gods decided overlapping timelines would be a funny test of character.

I’ve also been teaching a range of Bishopsgate courses as usual, and have some great Musical Theatre AND a Heated Rivalry one coming up, all of which I’m excited for.

Speaking of that gay hockey show, I was on BBC News speaking about all things Heated Rivalry and hockey. A really lovely experience and a great chance to bring my work and my other main passion together.

Read the article here.

And there’s a video here

I also got to speak at Queer Lit Quarterly in Aberystwyth, hosted by the lovely team behind Gayaberystwyth books. I honestly didn’t know what to expect from the event, but it was really busy and full of people with great questions and great conversations about books. I often feel like I don’t have a place in the queer community locally, but the space they created made me feel instantly part of something. A shout-out too to Aberration, whose work I was introduced to for the first time, and who are doing really exciting things.

Doing (Fun)

It’s still hockey season…

I also got to go on my first away trip on the ‘fun bus’ with fans. I’d been nervous about doing this because you never know what you’ll get in social situations like this, but I was made to feel so welcome and looked after, and I had a lovely time. Did the team deserve the point they managed to squeak out on the ice that day? Probably not, but we’ll take it. Bonus element of going to a Nottingham game, getting to see my lovely friend for a coffee too.

I did actually make it to the theatre this month too, seeing ‘Here and Now’, the Steps musical. This was the perfect example of ‘it’s not for me, but I’m glad it is for the people who enjoyed it’...There was nothing actually bad or wrong with the musical; it was a fun, fluffy old-time. It just didn’t particularly do it for me. But one of those where you look around and everyone was having a lovely (and well behaved!) time, and go ‘I’m glad this exists for people to have joy’.

Oh and Marley was here, he says hi…

Coming up…

I’ve got an array of workshops coming up with Bishopsgate Institute. We’re launching our LGBTQIA+ Theatre season with the following workshops:

10 March 2026, 19:00-21:00: Rent and Jonathan Larson

19 March 2026, 19:00-21:00: Stephen Sondheim

21 March 2026, 15:00-17:00: Angels in America: Queer Prophecy and the Politics of Survival

22 March 2026, 13:00-15:00: Tennessee Williams: Desire, Decay, and Queer Longing

26th March 1 March 2026, 15:00-17:00: Cabaret

Book here for them!

AND I’m very excited to be hosting a workshop on Heated Rivalry, hockey romance and activism… (book here)

Finally, before I head back into the depths of editing, I have my first book event for Rainbow Wales coming up (which you can preorder here) I’m going to be at Bookspace Cardiff on 7th May (publication day!) to talk about the book. Tickets here.

Unfortunately, the Fife Flyers put the brakes on that. And with them, the true colours of a club and certain contingents of fans mean that I no longer want to play on the side of diplomacy. There’s a time for that- and that time for gentle education and collaboration will come again- but also a time for calling out blatant homophobic behaviour.

Unfortunately, that time is now.

A recap for those not embedded in EIHL drama. Fife Flyers had their annual Pride night scheduled for Saturday, and they’d even tweeted their excitement the day before:

However, hours before puck drop, they did a 180 and announced that Pride jerseys would now be worn only during warm-ups. There’s a lot of words to get through (below), but the key wording was this;

This approach allows us to support Pride Night while also respecting the diversity of backgrounds and personal beliefs within our playing group.

Key additional context, the charity that Pride night was set to support, The Hive, also weren’t informed of this decision. They respectfully declined the money, and thankfully, a fan fundraiser has more than made up for it. (you can still donate here)

Player David Booth did not come onto the ice for warm-ups, sending something of a clear signal that he was at least one person involved in the decision.

Obviously, none of us knows exactly what went on behind the scenes at Fife, but we do know the public decisions, and what is fair to say is that it is a very poor show in supporting the community and in executing those decisions.

Why does it matter?

Because that statement declared that some people’s beliefs are more important than others’ existence. I’ve seen arguments that the player was to have his ‘religious beliefs’ protected. Firstly, nowhere did anything specify that his religious belief prohibited him from *checks notes* wearing a specific colour jersey. But also that his religious beliefs should not dictate the actions of a whole team. A whole team, who did not, I am sure, share that conviction. Also, it is the general practice that if your religious beliefs dictate that you should not do something, let’s take a very basic action like eating bacon, then you choose not eat bacon. It’s not an allergy where you have to ask everyone around you not to eat bacon. If your religion somehow ‘prohibits’ you from doing something, then you don’t do it; your entire workplace doesn’t have to do the same. And my guy, you are not allergic to a rainbow jersey, and if you are, maybe you choose to remove yourself from it, not enforce your beliefs on everyone else in the workplace.

I say this too, as someone who goes into workplaces talking about LGBTQ+ inclusion. Nobody is ever forced to come to one of my talks. They aren’t compulsory, and that player had a choice. One might argue, too, that one person’s beliefs should not reflect an entire organisation; yet if the organisation chooses to foreground its beliefs, then maybe they reflect the beliefs of its management.

What I say to that player, and any player who has similar opinions, stand by them then. If you’re so opinionated, at least have the courage to truly stand up for your beliefs. Next year, when your team is wearing Pride jerseys, you come out in your regular one. Or bench yourself. I would actually respect a person more for standing by their beliefs. Say it with your whole chest, rather than being a coward. Rather than making a whole team of players- who I don’t believe for one second all share your beliefs- hide your own bigotry.

I say to the Fife Flyers team, as well as their organisation, we know it’s not all of you. I don’t know enough of you personally, but I imagine there are LGBTQ+ members of that organisation who are disgusted, hurt, possibly even scared for their futures in what has happened. To you, I am sorry you have to deal with that. And to the allies in the team and organisation, we appreciatethat this isn’t your fault. I feel for all the players and staff who have LGBTQ+ friends, family…who know the actions of their team have hurt many people and also are not in a position to necessarily speak out (we also see the partners of players who have done so on their behalf when they aren’t able to, thank you).

To Fife’s LGBTQ+ fans, too, I’m sorry that you had Pride night taken from you. I’m sorry that players and the organisation showed they don’t stand by you as they should. Know that the LGBTQ+ fans of the league see you and support you, and that you’re welcome at all of our rinks as people, even if we currently cannot make peace with the actions of your team.

Why does it matter?

Two elements: the league and the fans.

Let’s take the league/sport in the UK first. I’d like to take the moment to remind people that, statistically speaking, there are more LGBTQ+ players we know about across our UK leagues, and to be reminded once again not only that fellow players think this way, but also that clubs and the league enabled them to express that opinion. We talk of moving forward with inclusion, we talk of progress. Fife Flyers have managed to set that progress back considerably.

That said, there is also an opportunity here not just for learning, but to use this as a real springboard to say ‘actually we do want change’. And to that I look to the people who run the sport in the UK- from the General Managers and owners of individual clubs, to those who sit on the board. What we, as a community, say is: now is your opportunity for action. Prove to us, prove to the LGBTQ+ players past, present and future that you do want change. That the rainbow jerseys aren’t just tokenistic, that they mean something. Prove to us you don’t stand with Fife on this, and that you want change. I ask the straight men in power (because it is, lets face it straight mostly white men who hold the ablilty to push for change…to make that change.

I have to believe that there are people with power within hockey who are as disgusted as the fans are by this outward display of homophobia. But I also believe that there are true allies in positions of power, people who believe in inclusion who want a better future- maybe for when their own kids grow up and play hockey, who might not know their sexuality yet and who they’d like to be able to feel safe and included no matter what. But for that to happen, you, the people with power, have to start standing up with more than a once-a-year Pride night. You have to listen to the community because we are not in those rooms; we do not have the power to make changes on that side. I know we, the LGBTQ+ community, are more than ready to come into those rooms, to sit down and work with those who have the power to change, to tell them from lived experience in the sport what needs to change. The challenge is, who is ready to listen?

What happened in Fife isn’t just the result of some people with questionable opinions for the year 2026. Because if the league, the sport didn’t stand for that sort of approach, they would not have done it. If there were consequences for homophobic behaviour, because make no mistake that’s what it was, they wouldn’t have done it. If the standard was inclusion, if the standard was we are all equal and welcome, they would not have done it. More importantly, there would be no place for the kind of players who inspired such action. There would be no place for the management that enabled it.

We, as fans, can only do so much. And what happened in Fife shows us two things about the fans: why Pride is still needed in Hockey, and what a beautiful, supportive community it is.

Let’s start with the negative, and work our way to the only win of this weekend (quite literally for some teams, but hey, Karma’s a bitch…)

What happened in Fife legitimised the homophobia that bubbles beneath the surface for some fans. It allowed those who share those beliefs to say them, and say them loudly. To quote queer Icon David Rose, “I have never heard someone say so many wrong things, one after the other, consecutively, in a row.”

By cancelling Pride, people could say they ‘don’t believe in’ Pride, that we shouldn’t have Pride, and all manner of things I won’t repeat here because they don’t deserve airtime. What it showed is how deep the problem still runs, and for every beautiful allyship-filled Pride night, there is a pool of homophobia and transphobia that is exactly why Pride is still needed.

There are always two reasons for this: to educate, and to take up space. And really, if the former isn’t working, then we revert to the latter. In an optimistic world, holding Pride events, showing the community is just that…a community of, in this case, ordinary hockey fans, slowly educates people that the LGBTQ+ community is nothing negative, nothing to be feared and should be embraced. By holding Pride events too, we open up a dialogue with people whose prejudices might be informed by ignorance, and we might one day turn that into education and acceptance. On the other hand, if people do not want to be educated, we use Pride events to take up space. To say, politely but clearly, ‘we won’t be scared off we won’t be erased’. In hockey, I see Pride events as, on one hand, opening up that dialogue: hey, we’re people, we belong, we’re no different, really. And also saying, no matter what hatred you bring, we won’t be moved, we belong.

On the positive side, this weekend showed the strength of our communities and our allies. A huge shout out to every Nottingham and Cardiff fan, in particular, who posted something like ‘We might have lost but at least our team’s not scared of rainbows’ To every ally who turned out in even more force to celebrate Pride with us in the face of that homophobia, too, we see you, we’re grateful for you. And to everyone who turned up in the comments on social media to speak up for one another, we see you, we’re thankful for you. Because of the derogatory names, the dismissal of our identities, our place in hockey…and yes, even threats of violence, they all showed why Pride is needed. But the people who came and stood up for us, that showed the power of community.

And thank yo,u too, for the allies in our rinks who showed up in rainbows, making us feel safe. And thank you to our teams who did the same. It could have been so easy to see a domino effect with Fife this weekend. But I have faith, as so many said, that not all our teams are scared of rainbows.

It’s hard not to feel defeated right now. Only the other week I overheard some homophobic comments while doing my skates up, I chose not to challenge them, because it’s not always safe, you don’t always wnat the drama, and sometimes we’re just tired. But I did choose to speak up now, because it’s what’s right. Because we deserve to work towards the day we can actually say hockey is for everyone.

So what now? We keep showing up as LGBTQ+ fans, taking up space. I will march with the hockey fans at Pride this summer again, not because I believe our sport is a fully safe one for LGBTQ+ fans, but because I believe showing up, taking up space and pushing for better is the way to make it that safe space. I don’t have the answers, I don’t have the power to change it. But I can show up in solidarity for my community, I can speak up when I see something, and I can keep advocating for change.

And I can keep hoping Fife loses.