Well then, one is tempted to ask, where do we come out? Following the tradition of self-help, I guess I should try to write a good homosexual novel myself. I can urge others who are more competent to the task at hand too. So many of my own friends feel this need that "writing the novel" has become a standing joke. But it must not remain a joke; it must become a reality and, in so doing, skirt the miserable pitfalls into which so many works have fallen. There are a very, very few excellent novels on the shelf of homosexual literature-they need company.

This then is a call to arms-to others, to myself. Let's begin to think in terms of writing a warm, beautiful novel, full of depth and passion, seasoned with humor-a book about people who live proudly and happily with their homosexuality, who are strong and capable and find life great fun-and who never even think of suicide.

two poems by

I have been exiled

like a traitor

My love for you

Is the island

Gabrielle Ganelle

Where I've been banished.

2

Your love is like contraband

Smuggled at night.

Unobtrusive as sunlight

Cradled in gossamer;

Expertly hidden in the

Smug indifference

Of a nod

In the muffled sigh

All workers have

Hidden in the reading

Of a menu.

You are at large

Till night reveals your love Seizes it

And makes you an accomplice

In the perfect crime.

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