Ink & Identity

Because we deserve more than a subplot and a stereotype. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read a book where a trans character is introduced only to either educate the protagonist, disappear after two scenes, or become a walking trauma dump. These portrayals aren’t just disappointing—they’re damaging. Trans readers deserve characters who are real , nuanced , and not written solely for cis readers to learn something . This post is for cis writers who want to do better, and for trans writers who are reclaiming space on the page. Let’s break this down. 1. Don’t Make Them the Lesson Trans characters are too often written like moral props—a checkpoint in the protagonist’s growth. The cis main character learns to “accept them,” and then the trans person fades out. This approach centers cis feelings and completely sidelines the actual personhood of the trans character. 🔸 Instead : Make your trans character's arc their own. Do they want to open a bakery, survive senior year, or re...

  If you’ve ever stared at the three-act structure and thought, this doesn’t fit the story in my head, you’re not alone. Many neurodivergent writers—myself included—find that traditional plot structures can feel restrictive or even discouraging. This post is for the writers who have been told their storytelling is “too weird,” “too scattered,” or “not structured enough.” If that rings a bell, maybe it’s time to explore narrative forms that fit you , not the other way around. 1. Recognizing that Structure is a Tool, Not a Law Much like grammar, plot structure exists to serve your story—not to limit it. The three-act structure, Hero’s Journey, Save the Cat—these are useful tools, but they were designed within a neurotypical framework. If your brain doesn’t move in a straight line, why should your story? The three acts is, inciting incident, midpoint, climax, resolution. While these blueprints can be helpful, they’re just one lens. They’re not a universal truth. Neurodiverge...

Writing about trauma is like walking a tightrope — every step feels like it could either set you free or pull you under. Words carry weight. Sometimes they feel too heavy to hold. But writing has also helped me find myself, reclaim the truth, and create something meaningful from the mess. In this post, I want to talk about how to write about trauma in ways that protect your peace, without ignoring your truth. I’ll share what’s worked for me — including a few stumbles — and some resources that helped me learn to tell hard stories without losing myself in them. Start with Intention The first thing I ask myself before writing something heavy is: Why now? Am I trying to process pain, or am I hoping to connect with others who’ve been there too? Either answer is valid — but being honest with myself about the why helps me set boundaries before I start. Jane Friedman once said, we are not our traumas . That stuck with me. Writing about them doesn’t mean reliving them. We’re allowed to write ...

How to Spot Authentic vs. Token Representation in Fiction (With Book Examples) Because inclusion without depth isn’t justice — it’s decoration.  Introduction: More Than a Diversity Checkbox Representation in fiction has become a buzzword — and a selling point. Readers are told a book is “diverse,” “inclusive,” or “groundbreaking.” But when we open the pages, too often the characters we hoped would feel real end up feeling… flat. That’s the difference between authentic representation and tokenism . One tells a story with depth, context, and humanity. The other inserts a character for optics — usually sidelined, stereotyped, or forgotten as soon as they’ve served a superficial purpose. This post breaks down the difference — and gives you tools (and examples) to spot the real from the performative.  So What Is Token Representation? Tokenism happens when a marginalized character is added: Solely to “check a box” Without cultural depth or narrative agency To make a work ...