We debated promoting Adjustments as a queer story when it published. In the end, we decided that this story is very many things at once (cue Whitman’s multitudes) and didn’t want to pigeon-hole it as a “certain kind of book.” I’ll always wonder if that was the right decision.

Another reason I hesitated: I wasn’t sure it had earned the right to call itself that. It’s LGBTQ literature in that it is a novel written by an LGBTQ person. But the queer and trans themes can be very nuanced. It’s easy to read it as something else entirely. After all this time, I still don’t know if Will Phillips is a trans guy. Some days, I think he is. Others, I’m not sure. I asked that question whenever I sat down to write. The word is never used. Nobody ever states their pronouns.

Insofar as the plot—100% fiction—is strung together by a collection of smaller stories—some 100% fiction and more than some fictionalized versions of moments I lived as a child and adult—then yes, Will Phillips could be transgender. But insofar as Will Phillips is not me, nor I him, then no, maybe he is not. Maybe he just has a deeply complicated relationship with masculinity, all on his own.

The story is full of those complications, brought to light in Will’s daily experience. It’s full of inside jokes that my publisher and editor kindly indulged me and which I am likely the only one to fully appreciate.

“Sorry, you must have the wrong number. There’s no Johnson here.”

Will disconnected the call and reached absentmindedly to his lap, taking the loose fold of his Levis in his hand.

The jury is still out on whether Will Phillips is trans masc. I’m no JKR and have no need to manufacture backstories after the fact. He is ultimately whomever you, dear reader, want him to be. But the inner dialogue of Will Phillips that makes this story what it is? That’s all my own. He doesn’t need to think like other trans guys. He thinks a lot like this trans guy. Maybe you’ll find that interesting.