Today’s blog post comes to us from certified book coach and Author Accelerator Certification Manager Margaret McNellis.

I first began conceptualizing my protagonist for my Heroes of Sherwood books back in 2011 when I volunteered at my local Renaissance faire. I sold tickets, and they had us come up with characters for ourselves. Alys Fletcher was born.

At the time, I didn’t know that she would be asexual. I didn’t even know yet that I was asexual. I didn’t even know yet that I would write a book – let alone more than one book – centered around her. 

Fast forward to May 2019, and I’d just submitted my thesis for my MFA program. I knew I had to turn to another project while I waited to find out if I’d be getting my degree or not (spoiler alert: I did graduate). 

I was exhausted. The idea of coming up with a brand new character after birthing several others onto the page seemed too daunting. And that’s when I remembered Alys.

Writing Alys

I wrote book one fast. In a couple of weeks, I had a rough draft, but the time I’d heard the verdict on my MFA thesis. I kept working with Alys’s story, revising and revisiting sections of The Red Fletch. 

One of my fellow students in my MFA program was kind enough to read along and provide feedback. Part of his feedback included adding more sexuality to Alys’s story.

The only problem? Every time I tried, it fell flat. 

It’s not that I can’t write sexual characters. I have before. But for Alys, it seemed so wrong to me. Not wrong from a craft standpoint – my buddy was right in that something was missing. 

I add it in anyway though, thinking that because it wasn’t a craft issue I had with her sexuality, it must just be that I was tired from my MFA and then blasting through a draft and several revisions in a single summer. 

My manuscript got to a place I felt okay about and my buddy liked. I turned then to querying.

Rejections, Imposter Syndrome, and Coming Out

The rejections from my querying efforts flew in fast. Within about two weeks, I’d gotten form rejections from almost every agent, except for one I was fortunate enough to have a connection to, who asked for my full manuscript as a favor to our mutual friends.

She never wrote me back after I sent her the whole book.

I knew something was broken in Alys’s story. I also knew I was not in a headspace to deal with it. Fresh out of my second master’s program, I now had the experience to teach, so I turned toward focusing on my career.

For about a year and change, Alys’s story sat dormant on my computer. Imposter syndrome rooted so deep within me that to move forward with it would have required hurricane-force winds of inspiration.

I’m sure it’s no surprise to say that 2020 was a year of great change for us all. Many of us, during the start of the pandemic, turned toward creative projects we’d only dared dream of or that we’d left behind in life. I was no different. 

But my return to The Red Fletch and Alys came with a hat trick of shifts in my life. I was learning how to be mindful, how to manifest. I was learning how to become a book coach. And, I was learning to see and understand my identity as an asexual person. 

Alys and I came out of the closet together. Knowing that something was wrong with her story and it wasn’t some major craft problem, and knowing that something felt off kilter in my self-actualization, I unintentionally approached both situations at the same time.

Book coaching training had rekindled my desire to work on Alys’s story, and I was also learning how to work through my imposter syndrome (I later learned how to get rid of it for good). When I sat with the idea of being asexual, it was like Alys’s story unrolled before my feet like a red carpet.

I came out to my friends and family (most of whom were not surprised, really), and I dove back into Alys’s story so that she could come out, too.

There Was No Understanding of Asexuality in England in the 12th Century

I ran into a bit of a problem because there was no word for asexuality in England during Alys’s time period – at least none that we know of (I like to add this caveat because our understanding of history is dependent on what is left behind, and can never entirely encompass all that occurred or did not occur in the past).

The question I faced was: How to write from the point-of-view of an asexual character when she could never claim that identity for herself?

Alys could come out, but not in a way that impacted her understanding of herself like my coming out did. I can tell people I’m asexual and they gain some understanding of me (though there are often questions which I’m happy to field, and there’s still a spectrum within asexuality itself). 

I also wanted to differentiate Alys’s asexuality from my own. I am not aromantic, but I decided Alys would be – the very idea of romance is unappealing to her. 

This was the key I needed in order to unlock writing about Alys’s asexuality. Though the word unromantic is not on the books until 1731 (according to the Online Etymology Dictionary), I do believe that Alys would have sensed her displeasure with romantic activity.

This is why Maid Marian becomes a foil character for her. This is why when Alys herself is presented with prospects of romance, she’s completely turned off – and it comes her way from more than one direction, if often indirectly (as in, another character mentions that she should marry or expects that she would want to, not to suggest I believe most marriages featured romance in twelfth-century England). 

Now I had a concept Alys could understand and work with. Now I could write about her coming out, and the scene in which she does is one of my favorites.

What Happened with Alys’s Story?

I ended up not querying her story again after I used the Blueprint on it, revised it, got the manuscript evaluated by another book coach, and revised more (a lot more – I cut and rewrote over ten thousand words). 

Why? My book was a YA retelling historical fiction with an asexual character and no romance. I couldn’t see it fitting well into the traditional marketplace. 

But I did independently publish it, and this summer, I’ll independently publish book two, Outlawed. 

Alys’s story is definitely a story of my heart (though I believe we can have more than one of these as writers), but more than that, it’s a story of self-actualization for us both. It’s a story of finally being able to live authentically. 

I was in my mid-late thirties when I came out. Alys’s story was nine years in the making. 

The Red Fletch was a breath of fresh air for me, and it was a delight to publish that book. When I did, I came out publicly, as did Alys. 

One of my mentors in my MFA program, Jo Knowles, always asked, “Is it true yet?” It took writing Alys to fully understand all the nuances of this seemingly simple question. Alys’s story is true, but it required me finding the truth in my own story in order to make it so.

Writing something we’re proud of always requires something of the writer on a personal level. It requires us to go deep into ourselves to find that truth. 

I believe that in the Blueprint for a Book, this is what Jennie Nash gets at when she prompts, “Why?” As book coaches, we’re trained to ask this again and again to get that truth out and onto the page.

I coached myself, and was coached, until this truth was uncovered, and I’ve not looked back in regret once. Living authentically, writing Alys authentically, is a gift to myself, and I hope to readers of Alys’s story.

Learn more about Margaret’s books and her book coaching services by visiting her website or by following her on Instagram.