Women authors in the background

I am at the Semana Negra together with a good friend who is an author. We have set out to greet some friends from the literary world who are at the book tents on the other side of the fair, and, along the way, meet new authors who are making their way in this wonderful literary world.

If anyone has been to the Semana Negra in Gijón, they'll know about the massive crowds and how tricky it becomes to navigate through the various stalls, as is often the case in any large gathering of book lovers. On top of that, it seems that Gijón has joined the heatwave these days, and the sun is practically shouting at us to use sunscreen—thankfully, the sea brings a refreshing breeze now and then.

We wander through the various tents of handcrafted goods, clothing, and food stalls until we reach the literary tents. A world of books unfolds before our curious eyes. My friend points out a shop and tells me it belongs to a fantasy and science fiction publisher, so we head there to take a closer look. There's nothing particularly special about the decoration. At the back of the stall, four posters of recently published books hang alongside a drawing depicting a universe filled with aliens.

To our right, slightly out of focus, there’s a young woman sitting. She glances at us briefly and then loses interest. Her gaze drifts into the distance or disappears among the crowd. The vendor is also there, moving behind the counter with the displayed books. He glances at us for a moment and adjusts a couple of volumes to align them with the rest.

We stop to browse through the various titles published by this house, represented by the vendor. I don’t recognise any of the authors, which is precisely why I pay such close attention.

The vendor suddenly decides to focus his attention on us. He leans over the counter and asks what genre we enjoy reading most, but before we can answer, he recommends a specific book. Just one, out of all the ones on the table. He begins to pitch how great it is. From his insistence and the way he talks, it seems he might be the author. In fact, at no point does he say otherwise.

I pick up the book to read the synopsis and am surprised to find only one sentence. The vendor continues, "If you buy it, I’ll sign it for you." He adds, "If you want, I can tell you what it’s about, but I’ll tell you right now—it’s better to read it than for me to explain it." He says this last part with quite an unpleasant tone, by the way. "If you’re interested, I’ll give you a discount."

Let me pause here to make two points. First, never trust someone who offers you a discount on a book, as it gives the impression that they don't value the effort put into creating the work. Second, “I’ll give you a discount”? Who says that if they truly believe their product is the best in the Spanish literary scene? I’ll let you think about that. Let’s continue.

At one point, I suppose due to our indecision, the vendor's desire to sell us the book leads him to make a rather arrogant comparison. As soon as he finishes the sentence, I put the book down, leaving it where it was. I don’t think the best way to sell a story is by comparing it to the level of an international bestseller. I understand it’s the quickest way to set expectations for the reader and give them an idea of what they’ll find, but it does a disservice to the author if, in the end, the reader’s expectations aren’t met. I’ve seen very harsh reviews of authors who faced disappointed readers because they thought the story was going in a different direction.

The issue isn’t that, I’m getting off track. What really matters here is that at no point does the vendor reveal the identity of the person who created the story. The name on the cover is just initials, so it could be anyone. There's no way to know who we’re supposed to direct our questions to, especially when the vendor doesn’t clarify, and seeing that all the books on the counter are written by men, I can guess, but I still ask about the author. The vendor points to the young woman who’s still sitting quietly in the corner.

The young woman gets up with a certain disdain to explain what her book is about. I won’t lie, she seems bothered by the need to talk to us. She gives us a dull summary, opens the book, and shows us the maps and the family crests of the protagonists, seemingly expecting to wow us, but instead, she’s met with a lack of the reaction she was hoping for. Then, avoiding the vendor, she tells us that it’s the best medieval fantasy story in Spain. There’s nothing like it. It’s better than The Lord of the Rings. And she dares to say it’s the Spanish Game of Thrones.

My friend and I exchange a look, one that, in any other circumstances, would be downright comical. We don’t need to speak to know what the other is thinking. We look back at the writer, who’s now clearly uncomfortable. She slams the book shut and steps away from us.

My friend, still staring at the cover, turns to the young woman.

"Why don’t you sign it with your real name?"

"Because I’m discreet."

Discreet...

It’s not about being discreet or shy. Our furrowed brows make the writer hastily start telling us about what happened the previous afternoon, when someone interested in her work had dismissed her upon discovering that she was the author, not a man, as they had expected.

I looked at the vendor and then at the writer. It’s a shame that, for the few women authors in fantasy, those who are here don’t make it clear who they are out of fear of situations like this. Over the years, I’ve realised that it happens to all of us who don’t have a publishing house behind us or aren’t famous, but especially to women. If hiding were the solution, it would have already been solved. It’s as if being a hidden shadow to avoid displeasing others is somehow better than simply being. As if making money were better than feeling proud of having written a book. Disrespecting those who walk through life with their heads held high, just because others think they don’t deserve to do so because they’re women. It’s absurd.

My friend, who—let’s remember—is an author, and I, became more intrigued by the initials on the book cover. We tried to figure out if she was aware of what those initials were hiding. At that moment, the truth came to light.

"My editor recommended that I sign like this so it would sell."

She points to the man next to her, the vendor who had addressed us from the beginning without mentioning that the author was present. My friend looks at me again, and this time, she doesn’t hold back.

"Did you tell her that she’d sell more if she hides her name because she's a woman?"

"I’m just being realistic. Women don’t sell, or they sell much less. They’re not profitable for a business."

As the only response to this man, our gazes and words turn exclusively to her. I smile before speaking, in a futile attempt to soften what I’m about to say, only to realize afterward that nothing could possibly tone down my words.

"It won’t sell less because you’re a woman. It’ll sell less because the publishing house isn’t investing in you or your work. It’s not a person’s gender that determines profits or makes them successful in the publishing world. I’m not saying it’s not harder, because we live in a misogynistic world, but it’s pure marketing, and everything depends on how much someone is willing to invest in you."

My friend takes over, perhaps emboldened by my lack of tact.

"Besides, hiding who you are won’t make you known or a better writer. Yes, I understand, you just want to sell books. You don’t want to fight or break barriers, or offer the world something different. It’s only about the material, even above yourself and your dignity as a woman. You just want to be discreet so that this man can sell your work, even though he dares to tell you that you’re worth nothing because you're a woman. If what you want is to make money, then how you choose to do it is fine, as long as you choose it yourself. Not because a man thinks your work is worth nothing unless you hide it behind a male name. We need to break with the misogyny that’s ingrained in the literary world, but also in the world in general. Don’t you agree?"

The writer looks at us as though she’s just seen a microwave explode in flames. She turns away without answering, heads for her chair, and sits down. Then, without another word, she turns her back on us. We exchange glances, preparing to leave, not without receiving hostile glares from the vendor/owner of the publishing house.

I understand that every artist wants their work to be appreciated, to succeed, to be talked about, to sell, to support them financially, and all the things that come with recognition. That’s a big part of it. The joy of creating something important that lasts over time, with or without financial involvement. It happens to all of us. I get that selling is necessary, that promotion is crucial, that self-worth matters, and that investments need to be recouped, or at least expenses covered. But I will never agree, nor will I stand for it if I can avoid it, that women, non-binary people, or any authors be hidden away—whether because of their gender, ethnicity, or anything else that discriminates against people. No one should tolerate that. Seeing someone believe they’ll only sell if they hide their identity is an insult, not just to that person, but to those who love their work.

Later, we recalled in detail the scene the young woman had shared with us:

"Yesterday, someone interested in my book dismissed it when they found out I was the author and that it wasn’t written by a man. They said: 'I don’t read books by women.'"

With even more reason to publish under your real name. These situations are fought with more works by women.

Fantasy, like any other literary genre, does not belong to men. If that person, or anyone else, doesn’t want to read literature created by women, that’s their problem. There are thousands of incredible and wonderful worlds that have been created by brilliant individuals throughout history—neither men nor women, but people. Gender does not determine quality.

I’m not here talking to you about this because of how our encounter with that writer ended. She was probably just tired from working so many days there, promoting her own work, hearing all sorts of comments from her editor. She didn’t have any idea of what we were trying to convey to her.

I haven’t written all of this to make her look bad. What I want is to make clear my outrage at this kind of narrow-minded mentality that still surrounds us. How much longer are we going to allow this sexist nonsense to persist? Unfortunately, she isn’t the first writer we’ve encountered who hides behind a pseudonym or initials to remain unnoticed. We are surrounded by female artists who don’t recognize their own worth—whether because they barely have role models showing them all they can achieve, because their surroundings have convinced them they’re not cut out for the arts, or because they don’t have a safe environment that makes them feel valid.

The truth is, I’m not in the same position as that writer, but I like to think that my empathy warns me that, had I been in her shoes when that person told her they didn’t read literature created by women, I would have felt terrible and humiliated. Not just as an artist, but as a person. And that’s what hurts the most—the absurd power someone, a complete stranger with a brain full of sawdust, can have, convinced they can say whatever they want about others as if they have the right to destroy, especially those who have a dream and are fighting for it. If you don’t want to read literature created by women, I warn you, you’ll die bored. Because there are incredibly good works out there that could shake up your absurd existence.

I’m looking forward to the day when merit is recognized for effort, not for a person’s gender. Prejudices get in the way of the richness that exists in other perspectives, preventing them from flooding us and showing us a world that is fuller, more beautiful, and much better than the one we know.

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Trÿa, the Leyend of the God Zanaán

«Sira Ïn is no longer a safe place. Beyond the Crown of Winds, Nara must conceal her identity, exposed to the dangers of Trÿa. While she strives to become the warrior her people need, Tyrhon Zäeh plots to halt her journey, destroy her companions, and prevent her from uncovering the truths hidden behind the legend of the powerful god Zanaán.»

After an initial local release, "Trÿa, the Legend of the God Zanaán" was published for the general public, becoming one of the four finalists for "Best Self-Published Novel" at the Avenida Awards in 2019.

This book is only published in Spanish.*