Chuck Tingle is The Queer Writer I Wish I Had When I Was Young

written by Finnialla Wright

Growing up, when I wasn’t lost in true crime books from my mom’s study or repeatedly wearing out the absolute hits on my Barbie Hit Mix 2 CD until it literally snapped, I spent most of my time daydreaming. I devoured books and consumed one story after another, but none felt as good as the ones where I conceived a character like me, placing them front and center in a fantasyland while nestled in my pile of stuffed animals. I hadn’t realized then why I did it. And then it dawned on me, gradually, that the reason I did it was because I never saw myself represented in any of the work I read. I hadn't figured out I was bisexual yet, let alone nonbinary, but I already knew I was different.

In college, I decided to seek out books with queer protagonists. I had gone through a four-year emo phase, a year-long burnout, and had decided to spend money going to art school, so it was only right for me to scour for books by and for queer people. This, coupled with the rise of transphobic anger from a certain writer of a once-beloved children’s book series and multiple book bans, is what led me to the Tingleverse.

Chuck Tingle, a pseudonym for a writer who wears a pink bag over his head with the words Love is Real emblazoned on the front for his anxiety, dark sunglasses, sparkly pink suits, and who writes self-published, tongue-in-cheek erotica. His Harriet Porber series, an erotic thriller parodying the now-tainted series, featured a trans main character, a sentient motorcycle gang, a dinosaur love interest, and more love for trans characters than I had read in a long time.

I laughed at the absurdity of the premise, but what I saw underneath was a deep love and appreciation for queer readers. Slowly, I devoured his other works, and beneath the silly concepts, I found a writer who didn’t treat my sexuality or gender expression as a joke. His "buckaroos," as his fan base is called, seemed to find the same kind of radical acceptance in his work as I did, so I was beyond excited when I learned he had ventured into the horror realm.

I’ve been a fan of queer horror my whole life, and in my last article, I wrote about finding myself in villains and monsters of the past. Just like Tingle’s most recent book, I preordered his first horror novel, Camp Damascus, as soon as I heard he was releasing it. When the book finally arrived, I sat down and read it in a day. I mean, I forgot to eat—I was so excited to tear into the novel that once I started, I just couldn’t stop.

What made Camp Damascus special was the same thing I saw in his erotica and Straight. Love. That’s the best way I can describe his work. Sometimes, when you're reading, you can tell the author hates their characters or is indifferent to their outcomes, playing God with their creations. But with Chuck’s work, I feel the opposite. I believe he truly loves his characters, feeling the same pain they do in the novels.

Rose, a closeted queer autistic protagonist, is treated with care. Chuck could easily throw her to the lions, but he doesn’t. It’s almost as if he guides her through the story, holding her hand. For me, it was reassuring to read a book where I knew a character wasn’t included just to attract a demographic. Instead, the author genuinely cared about her journey.

Even with the themes of conversion camps and religion present, and the many character deaths, nothing feels taken lightly or amped up for shock value. It’s still scary, still a thriller, but nothing is cheap. Every single detail has meaning, and it was cathartic finding a story where I wasn’t a throwaway prop but part of the conversation.

When Bury Your Gays came out last month, I sat down to read it on my next free day. Just like his last book, Chuck Tingle weaves a deeply personal story while crafting a fantastic thriller. He takes queer horror stereotypes and turns them on their head, especially calling out the callous treatment of queer characters by straight authors.

Our protagonist, Misha Byrne, is a screenwriter in Los Angeles, an Oscar nominee, and about to wrap up his television show with a celebration of queer love—a kiss between the two main female leads. However, the studio bosses want something more draconian: make the characters queer and kill them off immediately. Sounds familiar? It’s the trope that's haunted queer characters for a hundred years, still used today for sympathy points.

When Misha decides to defy the executives and their precious algorithms, he and the people he cares about are haunted by horror creations from his past, which won’t stop until Misha writes an ending with the most profitable, soul-crushing outcome.

Bury Your Gays brings something fresh to queer horror: a gay protagonist written by a queer author. Chuck Tingle, a bisexual writer, speaks at length about the need for representation—both for queer authors and protagonists.

Misha isn’t a stereotype with a tragic ending but a character who defies the tropes forced on queer characters throughout the novel. His love with his boyfriend is inspiring and mirrors a lot of real gay relationships. While Misha is free to be himself in California, he still struggles with the trauma of growing up gay in Montana in the '90s—a tension that resonates with every queer person.

His best friend, Tara, deserves special mention. She’s the first explicitly asexual aromantic character I’ve ever seen in a novel, one who says it outright instead of having it subtly hinted at for three hundred pages. She’s a fully formed, badass character whose sexuality adds depth without being her sole narrative purpose.

This book is also packed with references for readers like me. It was refreshing to read a story that understood the frustrations of queerbaiting, the exploitation of queer tragedy for clicks, or the corporate-friendly version of queer pride. It tapped into fears about AI, the erasure of authentic stories, and still delivered a compelling narrative I devoured in three hours.

It was gory, thrilling, and another Chuck Tingle book I preordered as soon as he announced it on Tumblr (yes, I still use that terrible website, and I’ll keep using it until it burns out like a Viking funeral). Some authors have a single great book that the rest of their works can’t live up to, but every story I read from Tingle makes me love his writing even more.