I’m Angry

As you probably guessed by the title of this blog, I’m angry. I wish I wasn’t. I don’t like being mad. It frustrates me to no end, and I hate that it takes up a lot of my focus when I’d rather be looking elsewhere.

Last week, I tweeted out something about not killing off queer people in media (books/tv/movies), as a subtweet of a show that had recently done exactly that.

Someone tweeted back at me (paraphrasing here): you should write a book about angels.

And I laughed, because I already had! Into This River I Drown (shortened to ITRID for the rest of this post) was a book that came out in 2013, and was an ode to my father and the grief I felt at losing him when I was a kid. It went on to win the Lambda Literary Award, and I was (and still am) so, so proud of this book.

But it came out seven years ago, and many new people have found me this year, so I wasn’t upset that someone had asked me to do something I’d already done. Instead, I was over the moon that I could give readers a book about an angel named Cal who falls to earth and finds himself attached to a man lost in grief called Benji.

Since I was in such a good mood, a little while after I replied to that tweet, I clicked on the person’s profile, wanting to gift them a copy of the book for being the first person who asked.

They didn’t need that free copy. You see, they had already pirated the book, publicly posted they had already pirated the book, and was offering to share it the PDF to anyone who wanted a copy.

I’m not naive. I understand that no matter what I do, there are going to be people who steal my work. It sucks, but that’s how it goes. I’ve posted many times about my frustrations with people who steal from me, and while most people understand how wrong that is, I’m always met with replies of “I CAN’T AFFORD IT SO I STOLE IT” or “IT’S NOT AVAILABLE IN MY COUNTRY SO I STOLE IT” or (and my personal fave) “IF I LIKED IT AFTER I STOLE IT, I WOULD HAVE BOUGHT IT.”

(No, you wouldn’t have. That’s just something you tell yourself to feel self-righteous.)

So I was a bit caught off guard with how much this one act of stealing my book hurt me. Not only was I upset by it, I was furious. Still am, in fact. Though this person had no way of knowing it, this book was one of the hardest—if not the hardest—I’ve ever written. It helped me to process my own grief after my dad died, and up until I wrote Under the Whispering Door, ITRID was the most personal book I’d written. I talked a lot about that seven years ago when the book came out, so I can forgive someone who wouldn’t have known that.

What I can’t forgive is the act itself. Even now, there are those of you reading this and rolling your eyes, either because you pirate books without a second thought, or because you don’t see what the big deal is. Nothing I can say will change your mind. Trust me, I’ve tried, saying things like. you know what you’re doing is wrong, and yet you do it anyway. That’s it. That’s all there is to it. It doesn’t get anymore black and white than that.

That’s on you, not me. I’ve said so many times that you wouldn’t like it if I came into your job and stole, or came into your house and took something of yours. But you just don’t listen. I’ve tried to offer solutions like online libraries or gifting books, but you just keep on going as you do.

Guess what?

I’m sick of talking about this. I’m sick of arguing with people whose skewed morals make them think they’re entitled to months and years of my hard work for free. Every year, I release at least one story for free, but that’s not enough for you, because you want everything I’ve worked my ass off on without paying for it.

And most of all, I’m sick of people like you who think they can steal from creators like me. I put everything I have into my work, to give queer characters a voice they say rightly deserve. But it’s people like you who cause authors to quit writing, to silence voices. Is that what you want? Because if that’s the case, then keep on doing what you’re doing. But don’t blame creators when you can’t find a type of book or piece of art you’re looking for. That will be on you.

I’m angry. I’m so, so angry. And I wish I knew how not to be angry. For one of the first times in my writing career, I had the thought What’s the point? And I hate that I was made to feel that way.

What it boils down to is this:

You don’t deserve to read my books. You’ll do it anyway, and with a scoff from your mouth tinged with derision. You’ll steal from me, telling yourself I’m overreacting, that I’m privileged to make such comments, to live in a place where I have access to books. That may be. But that doesn’t change the fact that you are stealing. That doesn’t change the fact that you are a thief.

My books are not for you.