Rick Rawes

Quick Highlights

• A little overview of the intent of Rick Rawes stories – including the LGBT+ love stories at the heart of Avalon and Bastet
• Proud Marys – a jukebox dramedy – is now available in eBook and Paperback on Amazon sites
• LGBT+ History Month in the UK – and a call for everyone to sort themselves the hell out

Introduction

I’m gay. No, seriously, put down your cup of tea and at least pretend to be surprised, would you? It’s only polite. An indifferent shrug or a side-eye is hardly appropriate in this circumstance. Or laugh your head off, as a certain friend of mine like to remind me she did when I came out to her. Or scream, shout, disown, act like a moron. Whatever you fancy.

You see, it’s LGBT+ history month here in the UK and so for this post, I’m going to chat a little bit about a very present history and probably get a wee bit preachy. Then I’m going to talk a little about the inspiration behind some of my very LGBT+ characters, to give you a flavour of what you might like. Then I’m going to finish off with a celebration. Not quite the baton-swinging glittery dance party that is Pride, it’s a bit too brisk outside for rainbow hot-pants even with a few leg warmers.

Suffice to say, if you’ve switched off already, that’s okay. You do you. But if you fancy reading on, let’s pop off down that yellow brick and see what we find.

The ‘History’ Bit

Always strikes me a little this – given that our Pride season starts somewhere in early June and only really ends when the last of the pride flag makeup washes off sometime around the early Halloween costume buying – but February is LGBT+ history pride month. I could give you a long winded speech, perhaps about the dawn of the gays in early Ancient Egypt where eyeliner was more than just a lifestyle choice. Or perhaps discuss the Kings and Queens (and Queens) of England throughout the years, who’s bedchambers were an ever revolving door of individuals of all persuasions. Perhaps even mention famous figures like Alexander the Great (wonder where he got that nickname?). Or, perchance, to the old saying about the origin of drag (dressed as a girl of Shakespearean persuasion).

Like, seriously, where in history do you start? Even before we get into the animal kingdom, where homosexual behaviour has been demonstrated in roughly 1500+ species, and sex-changing characteristics are so numerous they haven’t even bothered to give it an estimation. Somewhere, sixty five million years in the making, two male T-Rexes would have bickered over whether Pterodonna’s Like a Prayer album made it to number 1 during quiz night, I’m sure. So, I guess I’m going to have to start somewhere in the middle.

Only, nah, it’s not as simple as that. There is no one history, as there is no one present. We can talk about the days in the UK, like when I was growing up in the 90s, where television representation for gay youth was limited to victims on Law & Order (most often tied to drugs or prostitution) or a predator (often enacting what we would deem sexual harassment these days) played for laughs. Gay was a descriptor, a slur, a word for something being downright shit. Bullying and harassment was routine, with a blind eye turned by the teachers – even regardless of whatever your actual sexual harassment was. And it was okay, because gays were still the fringe. Even the few gay programmes we actually got – Queer as Folk and Will & Grace spring to mind, still only showed one – often again played for laughs – kind of gay life.

But at least it wasn’t the sixties anymore, right? At least it wasn’t the days when people were being spat on during the early Pride marches – or being arrested by the police during raids on so called ‘gay bars’ – prompting situations such as that across the pond where a single errant brick from a drag queen started a whole movement. At least it wasn’t the fifties, where you could be imprisoned simply for being queer – or acting on your feelings. Or thrown into a lunatic asylum, forced to recount your sexual history with the same sex onto a tape and have it played back while injected with drugs to make you vomit repeatedly. This is not hyperbole – this is only a fraction of the kinds of sickness enacted.

Only here’s the catch, it’s yesterday. As of writing, 65 countries still criminalise homosexuality in one form or another. Of these, at least 6 UN members states still have the death penalty for ‘homosexual crimes’, with a further 3 permitting it in some further given contexts. This is the legally recognised establishment. This is their governments. In practice, the number of lynchings that will go unquestioned, the number of beatings given as ‘discipline’ for a queer child. The number of homeless teens, queer, trans, gay it doesn’t matter. The number of people refused medical treatment or care or support because of their identity. The number of people punished around the world for being naturally different, is giant chasm beneath this already staggeringly huge tip of the known iceberg.

And we are no different. ‘History’ is a swinging pendulum that’s coming right back round again. Things are not uniformly better for everyone in the UK. I was lucky, my friends and family were incredibly supportive, my experience of hate has been mainly of the verbal kind. This is not the case for everyone. Take a look at the Stonewall UK statistics sometime. You’ll see how many people, young, old, gay, bi, trans, lesbian, any part of the rainbow are more likely to experience hate crimes. Only one in eight people who experienced a hate crime related to their sexuality felt comfortable to report an incident and less than half felt they satisfied with the response by the police. This is recent.

Then, we see this government’s response (although most of the previous ones haven’t been any better). The powerful so-called ‘gender-critical’ movement is gaining traction in recent anti-trans policies (funded by some very well known and wealthy individuals who’s aggressive sneering is frankly getting on my tits). During the pandemic, the majority of gender-affirming surgeries were suspended indefinitely, because they were seen as ‘elective’ – essentially equating it to Sandra having a nose job. This is now.

I’m going to switch to lighter things in a minute because I’m getting angry, so I’ll get to the point. The point is that “LGBT+ History Month” is not a month of history. It’s a month of present. It’s a time to step back from this world and see it for what it is – a tapestry. There are some of us, the lucky ones, who make it through our days relatively unscathed. Perhaps we might receive a funny look holding hands, perhaps we might overhear someone elbowing their friend and calling them a slur just to look like the ‘hard man’. Or, like myself and my partner received recently, a drunken slob of a gentleman gesturing for us to go before them at a crossing in the street with a delightful ‘ladies first’.

And then there’s many who don’t make it to the end of the day. Too. Damn. Many.

It is NOT history. It is present. And it is not good enough.

Let’s Go to a Happy Place!

Okay, so the rant is over – I’m going to turn to happier things. In short, if you’ve read the above you can probably already see my inspiration. I don’t write books to be preachy, not directly. I write stories about the kind of world I’d rather see. Yes, there’s dragons smashing stuff up around Manchester, and like magickal wars and stuff – but where it counts, it’s the way it should be.

With Heroes & Demons I decided to do an ensemble, but as soon as I started writing Dr Rick Carter all those years ago, I knew the leader of the team was going to be an out and proud homosexual. His core relationship, and the complexity of his love with a man refusing to accept his bisexuality was essentially a way for me to examine the two sides of myself at a time when I was still ‘in the closet’ – the one that was glad to be gay and the other that was afraid of what it meant for my place in the world. It was tense, close and not exactly heading for a happy ending. But it showed, I humbly like to think, a kind of raw and honest gay relationship that I needed to read about.

By the time I wrote Avalon I was far more confident to talk about the gay world and blend that identity and my experiences of it into the novel. I knew I wanted to tell a story about King Arthur and Dragons – but set in modern day Manchester. And after the darkness of Heroes & Demons, I wanted happy gays. So, there’s a gay pub with a basement bear bar. There’s the hot handsome magick user, Mat Merrick. There’s sweet romance, a beautiful love story, in the middle of the urban fantasy madness. And then, of course, there’s Linda Lake…who even now I’m still not sure how she identifies. She might be the Rawesian universe’s first pansexual character, though I think even that falls short. Omnisexual, maybe?

The point of Avalon was to bring joy into a space where, in all my own reading I’d mainly come across heteronormative stories. The point was not take away from them, but to add an alternative perspective, a different and incredibly normalised voice. A story that was shaped by being gay but was not about being gay.

The journey is not over. As an author I love to try and experience new stories of all kinds, and so when I finally cracked the story for Bastet, I realised I had an opportunity to explore a different relationship, another step of the rainbow. I don’t know whether Bastet or Linda would necessarily define themselves as lesbian, as mentioned Linda may have had more wide-spread relationships than even the crude jokes she makes would imply – and so far, Bastet’s great love was her. I don’t necessarily think it’s important to even answer the question of their identity. Because, once again, the story is of love between two women but is it not about the love between two women.

I will keep pushing my own boundaries and exploring all kinds of characters in my work. I am already working towards introducing my first non-binary character (and an epic multi-book villain to boot), while exploring where may feel right to represent other realms of the big progressive rainbow of which I’m proud to belong. Again, every story I tell – whether a horror, a comedy, a fantasy or science fiction – I will always start with story and character first. Sometimes a character’s sexuality, their gender or their identity will shape how they interact with the world, but it will not shape their world. Because that’s the world I wish we had.

I wish we had a world in which there is no ‘bury your gays’ trope. Where the complexities of heroes and villains are just as nuanced, regardless of who someone chooses to love. Where someone’s first thought is ‘bloody hell, that was a great story’ rather than ‘that was quite good for a gay horror’.

Until the rest of the world catches up with the idea that we are all equal; that were are each of us accidents of stardust that have no more or less right to exist than anyone else, I’ll carry on. Until everyone realises that, and lets go of their ego, their prejudices, their hate or their indifference. Until then, I’ll write that world instead.

How I’m Celebrating

After all that, I will forewarn there is a shameless plug coming. After all, I’m an author, I sell books (well, that’s the theory anyway). If you’re already good, then stop here – nip back up to the top if you like and read the preachy bit again, or the behind the scenes peek from the section before. But if you don’t mind a bit of self-promotion, read on.

To celebrate – or should be commemorate – what should really be called LGBT Present Month, I’ve finally spruced up the odd duck of the Rick Rawes books – Proud Marys. Initially conceived as a jukebox musical to the tunes of Tina Turner, it soon became an idea for a full blown British comedy-drama following the lives of three young(ish) gay men in Manchester across a whole year. It was part Ruthless People, part Rent, part Full Monty. From funerals to brawls and drag bars to high-rise apartments, the intertwining stories of David, Juan and Robin were some of the most fun – and personally most illuminating – stories I’ve ever written.

Now I’ve managed to bring it back to life once more. Fully refreshed, with a brand new paperback edition to accompany the eBook that’s been available for some time now. A new cover, designed by yours truly (be kind) which is as unashamedly queer as the content. While not gratuitous, it’s not for the faint of heart. Take the narrator – a wise-cracking drag queen sipping whiskeys (and likely growing increasingly drunk) in a smoky bar on a quiet evening. Please, she says it’s been a while.

If you fancy giving it a go – even if just to give a break from the spooks and dragons and magick users – then you can read more about it on the Rest of the Rainbow section of the site or pick up the eBook or Paperback from Amazon in multiple marketplaces now.

And as always, if you like it, give us a review on Amazon or Goodreads, or even pop onto the Facebook or the Instagram and give us a follow. I’d love to hear from you. Comment here, there, down below – wherever you fancy.

And Now for My Final Thought

I’m not sorry for the angry tone of the first bit. I’ll be really honest with you, I’m a bit pissed off with the state of the world right now. We’ve clawed and fought and marched our way out of the days where we had to be afraid. Now, for the sake of a few political points, or to preserve our middle-class house prices, or whatever stupid reason we justify to ourselves, we’re sliding right back into the mud – right where others have been drowning for centuries. And where sixty five places in the world are treading water at the moment.

So, grab the people next to you and drag each other back into the light.

There are many who are already lost. Too. Damn. Many.

It is not history. It is present. And it is not good enough.

Rick Rawes
Leeds, West Yorkshire
3rd February 2026