by Adrienne Tooley
I didn’t come out until 24. I didn’t even start questioning until 23. I was a late bloomer in many senses, furthered by my own obliviousness. I didn’t see queer women in the books I read, the media I consumed, or even, really, in the world around me. I knew they existed, but I didn’t know them, or their feelings, or their journeys. And I was worse off for it.
When I met the woman who is now my wife, once I’d done a deep dive and examined myself and my feelings, once we’d kissed and I knew, I found myself desperate to explore all the queer media I had missed or ignored. I watched The L Word (though I only made it through the first season), Imagine Me and You, and I Can’t Think Straight. I dug through my girlfriend’s kindle, and read Melinda Lo’s ASH, emily m. danforth’s THE MISEDUCATION OF CAMERON POST, Nina LaCour’s EVERYTHING LEADS TO YOU.
There, I found beautiful, messy, explorations of queer girls in books, and I never looked back.
In fact, once I knew I could, I started to incorporate queerness into my own work. I’d had a manuscript I’d shelved because I couldn’t find the emotion in it. The driving force it needed didn’t exist. And then, bam. Just like me, I realized my main character was a queer girl coming into her own, grappling with what her identity meant for her and how the new understanding she had of herself would fit into her old life.
I wrote, with a fervor I’d never had before. And as I explored her story, I got to explore my own, too. My coming out was fast—I met a woman and my life was changed. I shared my joy with people and was, mercifully, mostly accepted for it. But there was so much inside me, so many questions I still had.
How had I missed this intrinsic part of me? Does the fact that I love a woman now negate any of my past relationships with men? Does this change the dreams and plans I’d made? How do I fit into the world now?
I got to explore those questions, examine my own life, through my writing. Through this book, where a girl decides to follow her heart and let the world catch up.
This was the first book I ever finished writing, and when my now-wife finished reading it she looked at me and said softly: “This is the book I wish I’d had at sixteen.”
I realized I wished I’d had books like it, too. A way to see a ripple of who I might one day be if I let myself. It was then that I understood I was in a position to ensure that anything I wrote contained that piece of me, both for teenaged-me and for other teenagers who were just as desperate to see their confusion and hope and love portrayed on the page. I had a responsibility, not only to them, but to myself, too.
As publishers began to take more risks with books featuring queer women, I continued to write. With every story, I grew more comfortable splaying my heart on the page, exploring different sides and facets of my new reality. Once I was ready to put my words out there, I created a list of agents to query, all of whom actively and enthusiastically represented queer and diverse authors.
When I received offers of representation, there was one question I didn’t ask, so much as tell every agent: “All of my books will be queer. In every age-category or genre I choose to write. This is important to me and I want to make sure it’s important to you, too.”
I couldn’t have been luckier in the agent I signed with. He has always been an advocate for queer stories, and is doing the work to get them out into the world. It’s because of him and his understanding of my priorities that my debut, SWEET AND BITTER MAGIC, is a book I lovingly refer to as my “queer witch project.”
He took a chance on me, my editor took a chance on me, and now, I get to tell stories for people like me, people who maybe didn’t always know who they were or who they would love. People who wondered if maybe there was something wrong with them, or their hearts.
Books have always been some of my truest friends, and I was always privileged enough to see myself—a white, cis woman—represented in so many characters. But there were pieces missing, too. Pieces I am lucky enough to find in the sapphic, f/f, and wlw books that are now being published.
My bookish joy comes from being able to fill shelves with books offering so many different insights into the queer experience. To connect with these authors and find similarities (and differences) in our personal journeys and loves. To be a part of a community that says “here we are,” in these pages, on these covers, in this world.
We are everywhere.
And to be a part of that, however small, to know that one day my book could be on a shelf next to queer authors I read when I was just beginning to figure myself out, that maybe my words could be a safe place for someone else, a teenager like me who just needed the opportunity to see her heart reflected on a page.
Maybe my “oh” moment would have come sooner.
My joy comes from the fact that my books will always be queer. That I can write my own story. That I found a community where queerness is celebrated. Special.
I am grateful for my books, my writer friends, other queer readers who share their excitement for queer stories.
I am grateful for my heart and the way that it loves.
I am grateful to be a part of this.
I am grateful to be here.
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Photo by Sylvie Rosokoff
Adrienne Tooley was born and raised in the desert suburbs of Southern California. She grew up in the theater, earning her B.A. in Musical Theatre from Point Park University. She and her wife currently live in New York City where she works in hospitality tech. In addition to writing novels she is also a singer/songwriter and has released several EPs which are available on Spotify & other streaming sites. Her debut novel, SWEET & BITTER MAGIC, will publish from S&S/McElderry in Spring 2021. Her second novel, SOFI AND THE BONE SONG, will release from S&S/McElderry in 2022. She can be found on Instagram and Twitter at @adriennetooley.
