For the most part, MM romance (male to male, aka, gay romance) is written by women. Some authors skirt their identity by writing under pseudonyms with ambiguously gendered first names (e.g., Chris, Jordan, Pat) or by settling for initials (e.g., H.R. Puffnstuff). For me, the predominance of these pseudonyms speaks to the fact that maybe straight women aren’t the most logical people to be writing about gay romances.
In our present world where who writes about certain identities is rabidly policed, it’s somewhat surprising that little fuss is raised over women writing MM romances. To be honest, I don’t think this issue is on gay men’s radar. Yes, there is a call for gay actors to play gay roles, but there is less focus on who is writing those roles. I still think we’re in the Thirst Era where gay men crave seeing any depiction of gays on the big or small screen. (It’s why I recently sat through the entire series, Boots, on Netflix.)
I’m not going to say women can’t write gay characters. Frankly, the policing has edged toward censorship or self-censorship at the very least. I want diversity in my manuscripts because the actual diversity of our world matters more than ever. Yes, that means I want to write about some characters who do not match my gender and identity. (I will likely have to pay for sensitivity readers to ensure I’m properly portraying Black and trans characters and, even then, I will be putting myself out there for sharp criticism should my manuscripts ever be published. (Fingers crossed!))
I will say that, when it comes to MM romance, it is refreshing to read a novel when the writer does, in fact, identify as a gay man. I like knowing the writer has gone through a coming out process, pined for the wrong gay men and navigated the gay dating world, apps and all. The hope is that lived experiences make the writing and the characters more relatable.
M.A. Wardell’s Teacher of the Year is the second MM romance I’ve read this year by a gay male writer, the other being I’ll Have What He’s Having by Adib Khorram. Both books stand out from other MM romances I’ve read in that they are “spicy” reads. In the romance genre, authors decide how they want to portray sex between the core couple with the range going from “sweet” (hand holding; kissing; any other sexual interplay happening “off the page”) to “spicy” wherein sex happens on the page, private parts and orgasms in full play. (Erotica is a separate genre in which sex is bigger than story.)
I’ll have to read more MM romance by gay men—again, it’s not so common—to see if gay writers have a higher propensity to put the sex on the page. My hypothesis is that they do. Men, in general terms, have been raised (even encouraged?) to go into the details more publicly. (I still cringe over Trump’s “locker room” conversation with Billy Bush.) Sure, women do talk openly about sex but it’s still more of a guy thing, for better or for worse.
And here is where I come off as prudish. I could have done with less spice in both Teacher of the Year and I’ll Have What He’s Having. As noted in a prior post, Khorram, takes up twelve pages to describe one sex scene. In Teacher, Wardell is less detailed but he still goes on—the first sex scene is seven pages. Wardell’s spicy scenes are even carefully plotted in terms of playing the bases. First, the main character (MC) gives oral. In the next sex scene, the MC receives oral. This is followed by separate scenes of the MC bottoming and then topping. (I seem to recall the same outline for Khorram’s sex scenes.) In real life, I don’t think acts are always so rigidly separated. It makes the scenes predictable based on an escalating see-saw pattern.
My real problem is that I don’t find sex scenes all that interesting. Two or three pages is enough for me to get the gist of what happened. It’s true that sex often takes a relationship to a new level. Any sex in a book (or a movie) is not supposed to be gratuitous—the characters grow separately and as a couple. In my mind, much of the growth comes in the characters talking and/or thinking about the sex after the fact. What just happened? Romance writers tend to mix the thinking in with the sex. This slows down the telling which can make even a spicy scene drag—one that’s, say, seven or twelve pages. I find myself skimming and skipping much of the choreography. It’s supposed to titillate but instead I’m not gaining anything from reading about positioning of hands, tongues and bodies. Call me weird, but I just want to know that sex happened—Yay! They’re more connected!—and get on with the story.
Surely there’s more to gay men writing gay romance than adding details about the sex. Let there be more gay men writing MM romance but let the gay perspective be more evident in terms of how the characters relate and get to know one another out of bed (and, in Teacher of the Year, out of a classroom closet).
